#Alarm Mon

[constantlyquestioningg]

the great thing about having my exams on thursday and friday is i have the rest of that week to revise

the problem is that thursday and friday are the afternoon of the week, and as such the exams don't feel real or important until monday or tuesday (the morning of the week)

[evieville]

No matter how much our head hurts I will always have the memory of our dad thinking doge was the french word for dog

[anak1n]

my black balahe got here today we are so back

[therealestbestest]

everyday I wake up happy to know that my life might be shit but I least my favorite character that I'm totally obsessed with isn't a dude named Kevin day.

[harpygon]

I spend the last 2 days genuinely. wondering why I woke up at 7 am exactly these last few days and also always looked at my phone at point 7 am...

You have three guesses as to what my alarm is set to

[chronicowboy]

i love andor's refusal to be subtle in the face of rising fascism. it's not complex metaphors for the audience to unpick. it's a kick in the fucking teeth. a banner and blaring alarms. THIS IS WHERE WE ARE. THIS IS WHERE WE'RE HEADING. it's knowing there's a time and place to be gentle and knowing the here and now needs us shouting from the rooftops. it's using energy independence, that thing tr*mp harps on about, as a cover for building the death star. it's a bunch of powerful empire officials brainstorming ways to colonise a planet for capitalist gains. it's the pomp and circumstance of the upper classes used to distract from the grit and ruin of the everyday. it's the visa inspection of harvest workers. it's the brutal abuse of power over "illegals" to the point of dehumanisation. but more than that. more than that. it's people working together against these forces of tyranny. it's kellen running around trying to keep them from the troopers. it's mon mothma trying to save her daughter. it's talia putting her legal status on the line to help them. it's brasso trying to save wilmon. it's wilmon running all the way home to help bix. it's cassian choosing home over orders. it's bix fighting for her fucking life rather than giving in. it's the fight. it's the people.

[charlotteking27]

midnight meltdowns & silver strands

Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: Charles finds a gray hair and can't go to sleep without having you pull it out.

Warning: none

"Baby... amor... mon Dieu, wake up."

You open your eyes, peering up at Charles as he shakes you urgently. Groggy, you look out the window, seeing the dark blue night of Monaco.

"What?" you question, turning over as the phone light flashes, momentarily blinding you. Seeing it's only 4:00 A.M., you say, "Charles, please go back to bed." Your yawn interrupts your sentence before you cuddle further into the covers of your white silk sheets.

"Mi amor, please, it is important," Charles whispers in your ear before shaking you again in an attempt to disturb your sleep. You tried to block out Charles' constant actions, resorting to picking up the second pillow you keep behind your main one and pulling it over your ears in an attempt to block him out. But did it work? No!

"NO, 112!" Charles screams like an alarm that won't turn off.

"What the hell, Charles?!" You jump from the covers, immediately annoyed by this rude awakening. "What is going on?" You roll over to the side of the bed and turn on the lamp.

Peering at Charles' disheveled state, you ask, "What was so important that you couldn't wait until morning?" You sat up, scooting closer to your lover to help comfort him.

"You have to check me for grey hair," Charles complained, pulling out tweezers from who knows where.

"Are you serious?" you screamed angrily, bunching up the sheets in frustration. But all you got was a blank stare and tweezers shoved in your face.

"Please," Charles sang with the cutest pout ever. How could you refuse?

Charles happily turned around, showing off his luscious hair. You rolled your eyes at his antics. Taking the tweezers from his hand, you began to look for any grey hairs. "Oww, that hurt," Charles hissed, putting his hand in his hair and massaging the spot where you pulled his gray hair.

"I told you, I'm 27... I'm getting there," Charles hissed again as you yanked out more of his precious hair.

"Oh my gosh," you exclaimed, astonished to see the longest grey hair you had ever seen. "Nooooooo... I lost it," you pouted in dismay before rummaging back into Charles' hair to find that stubborn grey hair.

"What do you mean you lost it?" Charles panicked, trying to help find the hair strand. "Owww, that hurt again," Charles cursed, rubbing his hand where you slapped.

"Stop moving!" you scolded, trying not to laugh at his dramatics. "I'll never be able to find anything if you keep wriggling about like a kid."

Charles stilled at once, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. "But what if I'm going grey? What if I look old? What if-"

"Charles Leclerc," you interrupt abruptly, running your fingers through his silky brown locks. "You are the most handsome man I've ever known. A few grey hairs won't matter."

"But-"

"No buts." You planted a kiss on the nape of his neck. "Besides, you'd be distinguished with some silver highlights. Like George Clooney."

Charles made a strangled noise. "I do not want to look like George Clooney! I want to look like me!"

"Well right now you look like a pouty five-year-old," you teased, finally spotting that elusive grey hair. With a quick yank, you held it up triumphantly. "Got it!"

"Ow!" Charles yelped, spinning around to face you. His eyes went wide at the sight of the hair. "Mon Dieu, it's so long! How long has that been there? Have people noticed? Has the media noticed?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his horrified expression. "Charles, it's four in the morning. Can we please have this crisis at a reasonable hour?"

"This is a time to have a crisis," he protested, but his lips were already beginning to curve into a smile, blinking once, twice, then snatched up his phone and started frantically texting. "I must tell Carlos immediately that I am still young and beautiful."

"It's 4 AM!"

"Crisis knows no time zone, mi amor." He paused his typing to give you a quick kiss. "Now help me take a selfie to prove I have no grey hairs."

You flopped back onto the pillows with a groan. "I'm dating a five-year-old. A very handsome, very dramatic five-year-old."

"Carlos says congratulations on still being young," Charles announced proudly, showing you his phone. "Also he says to tell you he's sorry you have to put up with me."

"I'm going back to sleep," you declared, pulling the covers over your head. "Wake me up for another hair emergency and I'm dyeing your entire head grey while you sleep."

The last thing you heard before drifting off was Charles whispering frantically into his phone: "Siri, remind me to hide all the hair dye in Monaco..."

[lcvecove]

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐓 ꒱꒱

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 what I think attending a race weekend with your f1 boyfriend would be like . . .

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fem!reader. just fluff. maybe some suggestive dialogue. flirting. 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. charles leclerc , lando norris , carlos sainz , lewis hamilton , oscar piastri , pierre gasly . . .

ೀ ⋆ 𝒄harles 𝒍eclerc

he insists you wear some of his ferrari merch or the stuff he knows the team sent you. if you show up in a non-ferrari outfit, he’ll pout until you cave. he loves all your outfits and thinks you’re the most beautiful girl no matter what you wear but he needs his girl in red on race weekend.

you’d be standing with the team, chatting with someone from hospitality in a black skirt and cute top, and as soon as he spots you, it’s all, “where’s the red baby? no jacket today? not even the cap?”

and he’s half-joking but also not.

so you’d roll your eyes, dig through your tote bag, and throw his hoodie on and immediately he’s satisfied.

he’ll secretly take pictures of you when you’re not looking. wearing his oversized windbreaker with sunglasses on, sitting in the back of the garage like a damn queen, and saves them in a hidden album titled “mon ange.” most of your insta pics from race weekend if from this folder (if he feels generous enough to share them with the rest of the world and not gatekeep them)

and when a fan posts a blurry picture of you two holding hands post-quali and captions it “power couple in red,” he sends it to you with a heart and a “we look good, non? i love when we match outfits”

he totally gets all soft and boyish whenever you’re in team gear. like you’re his little good luck charm in red.

charles isn’t really big on pda at the paddock, but his hand always finds yours when you’re walking together. pinkies linked, fingers brushing. he makes sure you’re close to him and can keep up while walking into the chaos of the weekend.

when you attend he has to kiss you before every practice/quali/race. right cheek, left cheek, forehead. it’s a thing. can so see this being filmed by someone and it blows up cause everyone just thinks it’s the cutest thing. pierre commenting “he never kisses me like this before a race😒” and charles responding with “it’s wifey privileges😇”

he writes your initials on the inside of his gloves in marker. it’s not a big thing, no one knows but you and him. but before every race, he looks down at them and kisses them.

if a commentator ever tries to stir drama about your presence being a “distraction” charles shuts that shit down instantly. “she’s my calm. not a distraction. if anything, I drive better when she’s here.”

late night after race day, when it’s all over and he’s showered and in a hoodie with damp hair, he pulls you into his lap and murmurs, “I like this part the best. just us. no cameras. no noise.”

ೀ ⋆ 𝒍ando 𝒏orris

lando would try to be lowkey about you coming to the race but he would fail miserably because he just looks so much more happy and excited and everyone wants to know what’s going on that has him in this good of a mood until eventually they see you walk into the paddock on saturday and everything makes sense all of a sudden.

if you wear his number on your outfit (especially in a subtle, fashion-y way), he will always post it on his story. a close up pic of your shoulder with the little ‘4’peeking out and the caption: “best looking fan in the paddock”

lando loves loves loves a pre-race nap with you. he’s so clingy about it. burrito’d in the duvet, face smushed into your neck, hair all messy, mumbles like, “don’t leave. you have to stay until my alarm. it’s science”

hates all the attention he’s getting from everyone but with you there it’s a little more bearable.

if the race doesn’t go as planned, he goes straight to his driver room and you’d be unsure what to do at first, choosing to give him some space but he texts you and tells you to come to him.

and the two of you just stay in there for a bit. cuddled up together. you’re not saying anything, not trying to make him feel better, just letting him be whatever he needs to be for a bit.

“you still proud of me?” he’d mumble after a while and when you answer with a reassuring “always” he already feels ten times better

loves that you get on with the rest of the grid’s girlfriends so much but is such a little baby about not having all your attention on him

“we have to do something about all our girls sneaking around to see each other man. we’re losing them. they’ve unionized. she said ‘I’ll meet you after quali’ and then disappeared into wag dimension” he’d complain to the guys at the drivers parade

“what? you upset that she’d rather hang out with the girls than give you back rubs?” carlos teases and lando shrugs “yes actually”

he’s a slut for forehead kisses before he gets in the car. will literally lean down and go, “give me the magic touch,” and tilt his head like a puppy until you do it.

ೀ ⋆ 𝒄arlos 𝒔ainz

carlos constantly thinks you’re hungry. doesn’t matter if you just ate. if he walks into hospitality and sees you without a snack or drink in hand, he’s immediately like, “did you eat? what did you have? that’s not enough. I’ll get you something”

he keeps an extra water bottle on hand just for you. even on race day when he has a million things going on, he’ll pause and be like, “drink some water, mi amor. It’s hot today”

so protective in the paddock. always walks a little in front of you to shield you from cameras, media, random people rushing around.

one time a cameraman brushed your shoulder trying to squeeze past and you stumbled just slightly. carlos caught your waist immediately, steady and quiet, eyes flicking up with that calm but don’t test me look and muttering a soft “careful” to the man. not rude. not loud. just firm enough to say this is my girl. watch where you’re going.

carlos is a post session cuddler. he showers, throws on a hoodie, and climbs right into bed with his head on your stomach. ‘just for five minutes’ is what he always says but will wake up 40 minutes later and be like, “okay, now I’m ready to go to dinner”

uses you as his personal belongings holder while he races. will put his sunglasses on your head and his watch around your wrist. tell you to, "keep 'em safe for me 'til I come back okay?" with a kiss to your head before he jumps in the car.

will make you have little ‘taste tests’ with him rating the paddock/hospitality food. you guys have little favourite dishes from countries all over the world.

ೀ ⋆ 𝒍ewis 𝒉amilton

when lewis knows you’re attending a race with him, he makes sure the team knows so you get VIP treatment the whole weekend.

right there next to his crew, there’s a sleek black seat with your name stitched into the back and next to it is a smaller seat for roscoe. you and roscoe chill next to each other and cheer him on together.

someone will come up to you every thirty minutes or so and ask if they can get you anything. will bring you water and your favourite snack unrequested and when you try to protest they’ll just say the boss insisted on it and they’re not about to get on his bad side.

lewis is of course known for his high fashion in the paddock, but he also loves matching outfits with you. not the whole thing maybe, you both have your seperate tastes and styles but maybe you’ll always colour code. or wear the same sneakers! and roscoe will have the same colour bow tie or jacket or something.

when lewis has braids done, he’ll sometimes ask you to tie them back for him before he heads to the car or during race weekends. it’s such a sweet moment because, while he’s incredibly independent and most of his race rituals are isolated, he enjoys having that little moment with you before things get hectic. it’s something personal and intimate.

similar to carlos he’ll have you hold his accessories. put his chain around your neck and his rings on your fingers until he’s done racing.

there are so many pics/vids of the two of you on lewis’ scooter just zooming around in the paddock. nearly running over people or one of you falling off and laughing. you guys will do the ‘track walk’ on the scooter and maybe he’ll let you control it. make jokes about you’re racing skills. “aw you went outside track limits there baby, gonna get us a penalty” he’d tease with a kiss against your head.

likes it when you drive to the track cause he’s gonna be driving all weekend and it’s nice to just shut his brain off a little before the hectic day starts.

has you name tattooed on his chest right over his heart and your name on his helmet.

ೀ ⋆ 𝒐scar 𝒑iastri

this boy loses you constantly over the weekend😭 let’s blame it on you a tiny bit for just being so interested in everything that you walk a bit slowly sometimes or your attention gets caught and you’ll stop for a split second and when oscar turns to look at you, you’re gone.

half of his netflix clips are just ‘man I lost my girlfriend again. I never know where this girl is’

it’s become a bit of a running joke in the mclaren garage cause oscar will poke his head in every room and be like ‘have you seen my gf?’ the crew starts putting up reward flyers for when you’re found

but this is how his little handholding habit started. he constantly reaches for your hand or loops his finger in your belt loop to ensure the two of you don’t wander away from one another.

can see you losing your lipgloss once in the paddock and ever since then oscar has gone full airport dad mode every time you leave the paddock. ‘you have your phone? lipgloss? glasses? jacket?’ and will run through the little checklist until he’s sure you have all your possessions.

will make sure the two of you actually spend time together when you’re there. don’t get me wrong he’s 100% focused on racing still, but every free moment he has you guys are watching your show together or playing board games or something. just makes such an effort to actively spend time with you.

the two of you take a photo before every race (if you’re there) it started as a little habit for his mom because she’d always ask for a picture of the two of you over the weekend and since then you just always take a picture and it’s pretty sweet to think you’ll have your memories captured at most races he competes in during his career.

ೀ ⋆ 𝒑ierre 𝒈asly

the #1 reason pierre brings you is so that he has someone to blame when he’s late to events. he’s chronically late as charles exposed and whenever someone calls him he’ll just say he’s waiting on you 😭

like charles calling him before dinner and asking why he’s late and he just goes “my girl takes forever to get ready you know by now” with a wink towards you and a kiss against your palm when you slap him for his antics.

this man is not afraid of pda. arm around your waist, thumb stroking your hip. holding your hand while walking through the paddock. hand on your thigh in the hospitality tent. always touching you in some way. and if anyone chirps him? “what, i’m french. we’re affectionate”

he gives you an important job. pierre claims you’re vital to his race prep, even if it’s just handing him his water bottle or double-checking his suit zipper. “don’t forget to give me my good luck tap, baby. left shoulder, always. if I crash, it’s on you and my mechanics will blame you” he’d tease and even tho he’s just joking he loves how serious and focused you are when you do that left side tap.

he’ll jokingly narrate your every move. walking up to the garage? “and here she comes, the love of my life, looking like a goddess on this sunny grand prix morning” you’re just holding his coffee and shaking your head, but it’s gets filmed and the fans are obsessed with how cute you two are.

©lcvecove — please refrain from copying/taking inspiration/posting any of my content to your blog or any other platform.

[lucy-literates]

Helloooooo, I went to a wedding yesterday so I have a wedding related request for Arthur please 🥹 it’s probably going to be on the shorter side but hopefully you can add your flair of creativity to it 🥰

Arthur takes his girlfriend to Lorenzo’s wedding as his guest and she catches the bouquet. Charles and Lorenzo convince him that that means he has to marry her within 6 months/ a year or your relationship will be doomed to fail and he believes them. He panics for ages until she comes home to see him drowning in wedding magazines, with Pinterest boards and ring sites open on his laptop and he breaks down and tells her. She calls him a dumbass, kisses him and then calls Charles and Lorenzo to rip them a new one and make them apologise to their brother.

“In our defence, it was my wedding so I was drunk and I forgot we told him that”

“Yes and also it’s not our fault he got all the stupid genes”

A/N: Lmaoooooo not the “stupid genes”, that had me laughing my ass off. I hope the wedding was good, sounds like it was fun. This took a little longer to write as it was 4th in my current queue. Hopefully you enjoy my flair of creativity 🫶🏻 My inbox is open :)

The Bouquet

(A/N: I feel like this gif of him stressing out is perfect)

It started with a wedding.

Lorenzo’s wedding, specifically — all golden light, soft music, and Monaco elegance. Arthur had invited you as his date and, as expected, he was the perfect gentleman. Suited up like something out of a magazine, always holding your hand, sneaking kisses during speeches, his arm around your waist on the dance floor.

You hadn’t expected to have that much fun. Or to catch the bouquet. But there you were, standing in the middle of the venue garden with flowers in your hands and every pair of Leclerc eyes on you.

And that’s when Charles and Lorenzo struck.

“If she caught the bouquet,” Charles said solemnly, a little too solemnly, “you have to marry her in the next year. Or it curses the relationship.”

Lorenzo, absolutely drunk on champagne and marital joy, nodded vigorously. “Six months, tops. If not, you’re doomed. Statistically.”

Arthur blinked at them, stunned. “What? That’s not a real thing.”

Charles shrugged, deadpan. “It’s Monaco law. Look it up.”

Lorenzo: “Swear on the Prince.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly. “Monaco law?!”

“Yep,” Charles said, sipping wine like this was all completely normal.

“It’s real,” Lorenzo added with a serious expression. “There’s graphs.”

There were, in fact, no graphs.

But Arthur didn’t know that.

For the next week, Arthur was weird.

He kept spacing out during conversations. Googling things when he thought you weren’t looking. Gripping your hand too tightly during a simple grocery trip. And then there were the Pinterest notifications — popping up on your shared iPad with vague but alarming titles like “soft wedding vibes 💍🤍” and “Monaco venues on a budget??”

You didn’t think much of it until you came home early one evening and found chaos.

The apartment was covered in wedding magazines.

There were bridal catalogues on the kitchen counter. A YouTube video titled “Top 10 Things Grooms Regret Not Doing” was playing on the TV. His laptop was open to a diamond ring comparison chart. And Arthur — sweet, panicked, idiot Arthur — was sitting on the floor in the middle of it all, clutching a notebook that said “Proposal Ideas???” on the front.

He looked up at you like a deer caught doing tax fraud.

“Oh, mon dieu,” he breathed. “You’re home early.”

You stared. “Arthur… why are you sitting in the middle of a wedding tornado?”

He stood up, fast. “Okay—okay, I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“You caught the bouquet,” he said, eyes wide, gesturing wildly. “At Lorenzo’s wedding.”

“Yes?”

“And Charles and Lorenzo said if I don’t marry you within six months, our relationship is doomed! Doomed, amour!”

You blinked. “They what?”

“I didn’t believe them at first,” he rushed on, “but then Lorenzo said it was Monaco law and Charles backed him up and—look, I didn’t want to risk it! I love you, I don’t want to ruin us—so I started planning and—god, I can’t even pick a colour scheme—!”

“Arthur.”

“I mean, would you even want to get married at the ocean? Or, like, a vineyard? What if you hate tulle? I don’t even know what tulle is!”

“Arthur.”

“Do you even like diamonds? Or are you a sapphire kind of girl? I’ve been researching ring cuts for three hours and I’m losing vision—”

You crossed the room and cupped his face gently. “Arthur.”

He finally stopped talking, still clutching a wedding magazine like a lifeline.

“You’re a dumbass,” you whispered, smiling fondly.

He blinked. “I am?”

“The biggest,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“…But like, in a hot, very lovable way, right?”

You laughed. “Yes, baby. So hot. So lovable. So incredibly, unbelievably dumb.”

He melted in your arms with a breathy, relieved laugh. “So… you’re not mad?”

“No,” you said, stroking his hair. “But I am calling your brothers.”

Arthur looked alarmed. “Please don’t—”

You were already dialling.

You FaceTimed Charles first.

He answered on the third ring, lounging on a couch somewhere, sipping a drink.

“Ah, bonsoir, what do I owe this pleasure—”

“You emotionally sabotaged your brother.”

Charles blinked. “Which one?”

“Arthur.”

“Oh.”

You flipped the camera to show Arthur sitting in the middle of his wedding magazine graveyard.

Charles choked on his drink.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said sweetly. “With a fondue fork.”

“I didn’t think he’d believe us!” Charles laughed, covering his mouth. “We were joking!”

“I panicked,” Arthur muttered behind you.

Charles called for someone off-screen. “Lorenzo! She found out!”

Lorenzo appeared seconds later, wine glass in hand. “Oh no.”

“You told him it was Monaco law,” you reminded.

“In our defence,” Lorenzo said smoothly, “it was my wedding, I was drunk, and I forgot we told him that.”

Charles nodded. “And also, it’s not our fault he got all the stupid genes.”

“Hey!” Arthur shouted from the floor.

“Love you, baby,” you called back.

In the end, Arthur forgave them. You forgave them (kind of). And when he proposed nine months later — under a soft canopy of lights with no pressure and no bouquet superstition — you said yes.

Not because you caught the flowers.

But because Arthur Leclerc, dumb genes and all, was everything you'd ever wanted.

And now you had the Pinterest boards to prove it.

[bluewxrld07]

Stained Glass (Pt. 2)

Lando Norris X Artist!Reader

Summary: It's the night of Y/N's gala, and she still hasn't acknowledged Lando who has been trying to get ahold of her nonstop. After a surprise guest makes an appearance to the gala, she is stuck between whether or not to hear Lando out.

Warning(s): angst, cliffhanger ending

"Stop messing with it, or you're going to mess it up," Alexandra's voice freaks, Y/N looking alarmed as she took her hands away from her hair. Instead of messing with the half updo Alexandra did, she then decides to straighten out her dress.

She wore a beautiful floor length satin gown, with and open drooped back. The dress was a pretty pale yellow that made everything about her features pop.

"I'm so nervous," Y/N groans. "What if nobody likes them? What if I mess up when someone asks about the work? What if-"

"Y/N."

"I'm serious Alex! I spent months on these, I can't not have it be for nothing," she sighs while slipping into her heels.

Alexandra squeezes her arm reassuringly. "Which is exactly why you deserve to have this night! You worked hard, and I just know they will have people doing double-takes."

Y/N nods slowly, a huff leaving her mouth as they begin to walk towards the door. "Besides," her friend starts. "You have me there, and if anyone knows how to make sure they become the center of attention, it's me." she jokes, making Y/N jokes.

She locks the door behind her before catching up to Alexandra down the hallway.

Her phone began to buzz in her hand, making her flip it to see who it was. She feels her eyes rolling before double clicking the power button to decline it. Alexandra looks at her with a knowing look.

"Is it him again?"

Y/N nods.

"Have you talked to him?"

Y/N shakes her head this time.

"Are you going to?"

She shrugs.

"I'm not saying you should hear him out, but-"

"Alex. No."

"Just at least hear what I'm going to say before you decide to delete him from your life, yeah?" She pleads softly, Y/N sighing and nodding to let the girl go on.

"I'll never say what he said is okay, because it isn't, especially since he's been to my events with you. He should know how hard we work. How hard you work. Maybe let him sit there, and you do the talking. Seek that closure if you feel like it's the end of it." she explains, making Y/N just sit back and take in her words.

Ever since that night, Y/N didn't know if she should feel betrayed or embarrassed.

Or both.

All she knew was that she was heartbroken. Lando has always been there to support her and has seen her sleepless nights in the studio when she's in such a painter's fog.

Or when she had been given offers by big-time buyers and companies, and how she would get into such a funk by creating lists to see which option would be better for her name. He had seen and dealt with it all alongside her.

"I'll think about it. But it won't be anytime soon if I do. I'm more focused on how this night is going to go."

Alexandra nods with an understanding glimmer in her eyes, a small smile adorning her lips. The pair come out to a well-known car waiting at the entrance, Charles emerging from the driver's side with a warm smile.

"Looking lovely tonight, ladies." he happily says, pulling Y/N into a tight hug and kissing both of her cheeks. Then happily sliding over and giving a sweet kiss to his girlfriend. "Mon cœur" he says to her lowly, his gaze then going back to Y/N.

He gives her a reassuring nod. "You doing alright?"

She just shrugs with a fake smile forming on her lips. "Just nervous."

Charles tilts his head. "I wasn't talking about the event-"

Before he could finish his sentence he gets a light elbow to the stomach and a tutting noise from the girl on his arm. He nods slowly, before smiling softly at Y/N.

"Well let's get to it, yeah? Big night."

Y/N nods as he helps both girls into the car, Y/N trying to shake her nerves as they drove.

The car was filled with both a comfortable silence and small talk between the couple in the front of her. She didn't miss the way Charles' thumbs would caress over Alexandra's hand, or how he'd bring it up to his lips to kiss every so often.

It made her chest tighten, and her insides swirl. It made her miss that feeling. Made her miss the way Lando would do things like that with her.

It also made her question if he had really cared about her. If he really loved her. If he really wanted to be with her at all.

Y/N quietly clears her throat, not wanting to disturb their conversation up front as she kept her gaze out the window the rest of the drive. She began to pick at her nail beds, knee bouncing as she tried to busy herself thinking about anything else.

Her mind couldn't help it, thinking back to every happy memory with Lando. The way he treated her never had her second guessing. Until now at least.

The car came to a stop shortly after, Y/N snapping out of her daze as she looked around.

The large building in front of her was bright and busy packing people in at the main entrance. Everyone was dressed incredibly nicely, and classy. She smoothed her dress out on her lap, hands feeling sweaty already.

Charles helped his lover out first and then happily held the door open, grabbing Y/N's hand to help her step out. She gave him a grateful smile.

Alexandra happily held her hand out to Y/N, which she happily took while they both made their way towards the building as Charles' handed his keys to the valet behind them.

"Remember," Alexandra starts. "It's not about the judgement. It's about the passion and hardworking job you did. This is about showing off your pieces. Not hoping someone will buy. You worked hard to get this far. Take it all in, I've got the other things handled." she smiles lightly as they greeted the security while walking in. Y/N nods while taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to get started on everything else. You go look stand around your section yeah? Get a drink or two in you. Loosen up those nerves." she playfully jokes, earning a genuine smile from the girl beside her.

The night went on, Y/N happily indulging in a champagne glass or three. Her nerves finally disappearing for the time being as people came to talk with her.

She felt light and happy as she talked about her pieces, and why she created it the way she did. The way she carried each sentence with confident and such passion. Anyone could tell she was proud and genuine as she spoke about each piece she was questioned about.

Y/N was finishing up with an older couple, thanking them and guiding them the rest of the way, when she felt someone softly grab her arm to get her attention. She whipped her head around with a smile, the smile lightly falling but not fully disappearing.

"You really did quite an amazing job," Max's voice says, nodding at her. She smiles softly while squeezing his hand.

"Thank you," she sighs. "I didn't think you'd still be coming."

He frowns. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends too, and I wouldn't miss this big of an opportunity one of my friends has."

She chuckles lightly. He then turns a little more serious.

"Have you heard from him?' he asks lightly as if he was walking on a cracked glass floor and there was a large drop under him.

Y/N nods before looking at her feet. "He's been calling and texting. Showed up to my place a time or two."

Max lets out a huff, looking around to see if anyone was coming to approach her yet. Then faces back to her.

"Have you answered?"

"No. I can't bring myself to. Not after what he said."

"Yeah I don't blame you," he starts. "Can I be honest?"

She nods while playing with her nails.

"I wouldn't give him the time of day."

That makes her gaze snap up at him in shock.

"If your gut is telling you to not give him the time of day, then don't. What he said about you was out of pocket. He's an ass for that. A lot more actually," he scoffs, making her chuckle and agree with him. "But on another note, if there's anything in you saying to see what he has to say then take that and go for it."

This makes her look at him as if he had two heads. He gives her a knowing look. "I know you two have had a lot of shit you've been through together, so you can tell me if I'm wrong. But a part of you wants to see him. To talk with him."

Y/N's eyes soften. "I just don't know if I can get through a conversation without wanting to smack him silly."

"So do it."

"Max!"

He holds his hands up in surrender. "If that's what you have to do to smack some sense into him, pun intended, then smack him. Or I'll do it so you don't feel as bad."

She laughs at that, rolling her eyes. "I don't want to actually smack him. I want to yell and scream and cry at him till I can't." she says, her ton becoming more serious as she talked.

"Then do it, Y/N," he assures her. "If anyone knows him the best, it's me. He will let you do whatever it takes to get it out. As long as it means he gets to have you again."

"He told you that, didn't he?"

Max nods. "He's been really out of it. Sure he looks fine, but he's beating himself up."

"He should be, I don't feel bad for him."

Max nods with a laugh. "Trust me I agree."

It was quiet for a few moments.

"What do you think I should do, Max? I'm fighting with myself about it."

"If you're fighting yourself about it, then that gives you your answer."

Before she can ask him what he means, Alexandra pops up between them. A shocked and somewhat hidden look of excitement in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to bug, but this is important," she starts, smiling warmly at Max first and then looking back at Y/N. Her eyes furrow as she looks at Alexandra.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"Y/N," she says. "One of your pieces sold to a big time client."

Y/N's eyes widen. "Really?"

"That's not all of it," Alexandra chuckles. "It was sold for 3.2 million."

Y/N could've passed out in that moment right then and there. Her eyes widened, gasping as she put a hand over her mouth. Alexandra lets out a small excited laugh, pulling Y/N in for a big hug.

"Shit, dude that's insane." Max exasperates, running a hand through his hair as his own expression stays lit up.

Y/N feels her eyes starting to water. She pulls away from Alex to then be pulled into a big hug from Max. She starts laughing nervously, not knowing how to react.

"I can't- I don't even-"

She sniffles while wiping her tears.

Alexandra puts both hands on her shoulders once she is pulled away from Max. "Okay," she nods. "Okay deep breath. Keep doing whatever you're doing. We will celebrate later, yeah? Still have another two hours to go." Alexandra assures, and Y/N nods while wiping her tears away carefully. Not wanting to smudge her makeup.

Alexandra scurries away towards more clients, Y/N looking at Max with a look of awe.

"Shit," she laughs, Max nodding as he joins her. He gives her one last hug.

"I'll be around. You keep doing your thing. We will definitely all be celebrating." he says before walking off, Y/N nodding before pulling herself together and finishing the night.

Y/N's boss by the end of the night had been sobbing from complete happiness and excitement for her, as Y/N ended up selling each and every one of her pieces.

Not only did that make her the most successful artist in the gala, but it also put her name out all over the world due to each buyer and their connections close to them. Her friends had stayed back with her and her boss, clinking champagne glasses to celebrate the moment on her side of the gallery.

She was pulled into the biggest hug from Charles as he told her how proud he was of the work put in, then Alexandra tackled her into a big bear hug shortly after.

"Okay," Charles says. "Max and I are going to pull our cars around, and we are going to go out and celebrate properly! I will call some other friends to join in, if you're up for that?"

Y/N nods while taking the last sip of her drink, watching the driver and Max scurry off to get their vehicles.

"I'm going to go help your boss get everything packed up quickly. You going to be alright?" Alexandra asks, and Y/N nods while shooing them off.

"Go for it, I'll be here." she chuckles. Before she knew it, it was just her standing in the now empty and quiet gallery.

Y/N smiled ear to ear to herself as she threw her head back, eyes closed, taking in the moment. She couldn't believe she had made it. All the work she put in was finally paying off.

As she brought herself back to the moment, she turned around to start walking to the entrance only to stop in her tracks.

There Lando stood.

Just before her, only a few feet away.

He had a soft look on his face, as if he was nervous to approach her any further. He had his hands in his pockets, dressed up in a suit. He wore black slacks and a black suit jacket, the white button-up had the first few buttons undone and his gold chain could be seen hanging around his neck.

She didn't know what to say, or to do in that moment. She almost dropped the glass in her hands, but chose to grip it tighter to try and keep her nerves at bay.

Lando was speechless himself, finally seeing her in front of him looking as gorgeous as ever. He remembered the day she chose this dress, as he was there to help her pick it. Seeing her in this light made him fall in love with her all over again.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," she answers back with the same tone.

He gestures to her. "You look beautiful. Knew that dress was perfect for you."

She frowns. "Why are you here?"

Lando gulps. "I came because I know how much this night means to you."

She shook her head before looking down at her glass. "Well you're way past late. It's already done."

"I've been here all night."

Y/N's head snaps up as she furrows her brows.

He sighs, his eyes never leaving the girl in front of him. "I didn't want to take it away from you. Thought if you saw me lurking you'd get nervous, and not be able to focus," he shook his head to himself. "Sorry that sounds egotistical. Not how I meant it."

She nods, knowing he didn't mean any harm by what he was trying to say. "It went well, actually. Thank you," her voice staying as calm as it could be. Every single part in her wanting to pull and push every emotion around. "I sold them all."

He nods. "I heard."

"How-"

"Max and Alex told me." he admits, making her roll her eyes and shake her head.

"I should not be shocked." she says more to herself, laughing a little afterwards.

"I am proud of you though," he assures, stepping a little bit closer to her. "I know you may think otherwise. But I am. Truly." his tone sounded nothing but honest at that moment. She looks at him as if she is trying to break down every little thing about him at that moment.

"Thanks." she says sharply with a nod. It was quiet for a few moments after that, Y/N taking that moment to nod in finalization.

"Goodnight Lando," she finishes before walking past his figure, towards the doors.

"I'm sorry," he announces, making her freeze but not turning to face him. "I really fucked up. I know. I love you, and I'm sorry. I truly wish I could've taken it back. Take it all back."

"Then why did you say it?" she says softly, still having her back to him. It was so quiet in the gallery, you could hear a pin drop.

Lando rubs his forehead. "I don't know. I think it was because I felt left out. Like I wasn't seeing you as much anymore because you were at the studio." he scoffs to himself, shaking his head. "That's not the slightest bit fair, I know. I travel more for my job than you have to, so if anything I shouldn't feel that way. Wow that sounds terrible, I cannot catch a break on how to word things." he begins to ramble.

Lando sighed while placing his hands back into his pockets, and looking at her back that was facing him. "The fact of the matter is, I said it out of jealousy and envy. I shouldn't have said it, no excuses."

Y/N shook her head.

"I'll do everything in me to prove how sorry I am, and how much I love you. I hate not having you in my life. I hate it more than I hate fish." he tries to joke, not seeing that a small smile of amusement came onto her face. In the blink of an eye, it was gone shortly after.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, Y/N taking in a deep breath as she looked up at the ceiling then back down. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry Lando," she starts. "But it's going to take a lot more than that."

Lando feels his entire insides fall, his heart shattering at her words.

"Goodluck at the race tomorrow," she says. He watches as her head turns to look back at him. "Goodnight Lando."

With that she walked away and out to the front where the boys stood with their cars. Lando is left inside, his heartstrings being torn slowly.

She points at Max, glaring at him as he helps her into his car. "You are a little shit," she jokes, watching his mouth bob like a fish before she slams the door closed.

As they drove to their destination to celebrate the night, Y/N had tried to not let her heart get the best of her after her encounter with Lando.

She indulged in the drinks and delicious food everyone was ordering for the table, as the live music played out into the night. She tried her best to forget about it for the night, deciding that it would be better for her to deal with what to do in the morning. This was a big night for her.

Alexandra came and sat next to her, a small smirk adorning her lips. "One of the buyers left this by the way. Found it as we were sorting out paperwork." she says, making Y/N frowns in confusion.

"I can't take any extra tips. They all already paid such high amounts, I don't take tips." she laughs, Alexandra shook her head.

"I don't think that's what it is. It didn't seem to have anything in it. I think it's just a thank you from what your boss told me," she explains. "Says it's the normal thing from big-time clients."

Y/N nods before grabbing the folded piece of paper and opening it slowly. Her eyes squinting as she read it, then her whole body froze as her blood went cold.

Proud of you. You worked hard, and I wanted something to remember that. I love you and I'm sorry for all of it. This was not a way to win you back, only to appreciate the absolute exertion you put yourself through for beautiful outcomes like these. Congratulations on your big night, sweet girl.

LN

taglist:

@nickie-amore , @tylerstacobell , @piceous21 , @ariesandwolves , @lifeonawhim , @formulawhore , @asterooidsblog , @staple-your-mouth , @sinfully-yoursss , @smileyshaven , @midnightsaugust , @astrlape

[amirasainz]

Hey could you do maybe leclerc sister has appendix all of the sudden and they take her to emergency and maybe is just the recuperation and it scares them family and everything

Of course, I can. Sorry for the long wait but I had a lot to do with school. Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

Hospital night's

The house was quiet, the soft hum of the late-night breeze barely audible through the open windows. It was one of those rare moments when everything felt peaceful. Everyone was sound asleep — Lorenzo in his room, Charles in his, Arthur tucked under his blanket, and their mother softly snoring in her bed. But not everyone was at ease.

In the room at the end of the hall, their little sister, YN, tossed and turned. Her stomach hurt. Not the kind of ache that would go away after a few minutes, but a deep, sharp pain that kept getting worse. She winced, her face scrunching up in discomfort as she pressed her hand to her lower abdomen. The young girl tried to take deep breaths, hoping the pain would pass, but it only intensified, stabbing at her like a knife.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain became unbearable. YN whimpered, then groaned aloud, clutching her stomach tightly. She was terrified, and the only thought in her mind was that she needed help — right now.

Without thinking, she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled down the hall. She paused outside Arthur’s door, panting heavily, her hand still pressed against her side. She didn’t want to wake anyone, but the pain was too much. She knocked softly at first, but when no response came, she knocked harder, then called out.

“Arthur… Arthur, please…” Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper, but filled with desperation.

Arthur stirred, groaning as he turned over in bed, blinking groggily. “YN? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

But then he saw her. The dim light from the hallway showed her tear-streaked face, her body hunched over in pain, and his heart jumped into his throat. Panic set in instantly.

“YN?!” Arthur bolted upright, scrambling out of bed. “Bebe, what happened? Are you okay?” His voice trembled as he rushed to her side.

“I-I don’t know,” YN sobbed, clutching her side tighter. “It hurts so much… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in fear. He’d never seen his sister like this before. Sweat poured down her face, and her breathing was labored. Without another word, Arthur grabbed her hand and started shouting.

“Mama! Lorenzo! Charles!” he screamed, his voice echoing down the halls. “Help! Something’s wrong with YN!”

In an instant, the entire house was awake. Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and the first to appear was their mother, still groggy and in her nightgown, but wide-eyed with concern.

“Arthur, what—” Pascale froze when she saw her daughter, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. She rushed to her daughter’s side, crouching down to her level, brushing the hair away from her damp forehead. “Mon dieu, what’s wrong, ma chérie? Where does it hurt?”

YNcould only whimper, clutching her stomach harder. “My stomache… It hurts so much, Mama…”

By then, Lorenzo and Charles had appeared, both looking alarmed and confused.

“What’s going on?” Lorenzo asked, his face pale as he looked from his sister to his mother and back to Arthur.

“It’s her stomach,” Arthur explained, his voice shaking. “She’s in so much pain, she woke me up.”

Charles knelt beside YN, his heart racing. “It’s okay, ma puce. We’re here,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with worry. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Just breathe.”

But YN couldn’t. The pain was unbearable, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped for air.

“We need to take her to the hospital,” Pascale said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t normal.”

“Hospital? Now?” Arthur’s voice cracked. He was terrified.

“Yes, Arthur, now,” Lorenzo replied, already grabbing his phone and car keys. “We can’t wait.”

Within minutes, they had bundled YN into the car, her head resting on her mother’s lap as she groaned softly, her hand still clutching her side. Charles sat beside her, holding her hand tightly, while Arthur sat in the passanger seat, his wide eyes filled with panic.

The drive felt like an eternity. Each minute seemed to drag on as YN’s soft cries filled the car. Every time she whimpered in pain, Arthur’s stomach flipped. He kept looking at Charles and Lorenzo, hoping one of them would say something to make it better, but no one spoke.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, the nurses quickly took YN into a room, and a doctor came to examine her.

"Ma'am, we're going to have to take her in for some tests," the doctor said calmly, though the look in his eyes was serious. "It could be her appendix. We need to confirm, but we may have to perform surgery right away."

"Surgery?" Arthur nearly choked on the word, his eyes widening. He turned to Charles. "Surgery? But she was fine earlier today…"

Charles clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “They’ll fix her. We have to trust them.”

Their mother nodded, though her face was pale. “They’ll do everything they can, Arthur,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from YN’s face as the nurses wheeled her away toward the emergency room.

The waiting was agonizing. Arthur couldn’t sit still, pacing back and forth, biting his nails. Lorenzo kept his arms crossed, staring blankly at the hospital floor. Charles sat quietly, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, his eyes glued to the door they had taken their little sister through.

“What if something goes wrong?” Arthur whispered after what felt like hours. “What if… What if she—”

“She won’t,” Charles interrupted, his voice tight. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

But the truth was, Charles wasn’t sure. None of them were.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out, pulling off his gloves. “The surgery went well,” he said, offering a small smile. “Her appendix had ruptured, but we were able to remove it in time. She’ll need to rest, but she’s going to be okay.”

A wave of relief crashed over them, and Arthur felt his legs go weak as he sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands. Charles let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging, while Lorenzo placed a hand over his heart, as if steadying his rapid pulse.

“Thank you,” Pascale said, tears of gratitude in her eyes. “Can we see her?”

“She’s just waking up from the anesthesia. She might be a bit groggy, but yes, you can see her now,” the doctor replied.

The brothers practically ran to her room, their mother following behind. When they stepped inside, YN was lying in bed, her face pale but peaceful, her eyes fluttering open as she blinked at them.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Bebe!” Arthur rushed to her side, his eyes wide with concern. “You scared the hell out of us!”

Lorenzo chuckled weakly. “You have no idea how panicked we were.”

Charles sat on the edge of her bed, his hand gently brushing her hair back. “You okay now?”

She nodded slowly, a small, tired smile forming on her lips. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I feel… better.”

The boys immediately went into full protective mode. Lorenzo disappeared for a moment and returned with a bowl of soup from the hospital cafeteria. “Here, you need to eat something,” he said softly, holding the spoon up to her lips as she took small sips.

Charles shifted behind her, gently easing her back against his chest. “Just rest,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair, his usual confident demeanor replaced with quiet tenderness. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Arthur, still shaken but wanting to do something to make her feel better, grabbed a small bottle of nail polish from her bag. “I’m gonna paint your nails, okay? You’ll look fabulous when you get out of here,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, though his hands were trembling.

YN giggled weakly. “You’re all ridiculous,” she muttered, but her heart swelled with love for her older brothers.

Their mother sat beside the bed, her voice soft as she opened YN’s favorite book, Le Petit Prince. “Let’s read a little, hmm? Just like we used to.”

As her mother began reading, the soft, familiar words filling the room, YN let her eyes close, her brothers and mother surrounding her with love. She felt safe. She felt cared for. And despite the pain, despite the fear, she knew she would be okay.

With her head resting on Charles’ chest, her nails being painted by Arthur, soup being spoon-fed by Lorenzo, and her mother’s gentle voice reading her favorite story, YN smiled.

Her family would always be there for her, no matter what.

[adrienneleclerc]

Día de Muertos

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Mexican! Reader

Summary: Per Mexican tradition, Y/N makes an altar for her family members that passed away. She added Charles’s family members as well

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors, death, inaccuracies

A/N: This was the first time I put up an ofrenda and since today is Day of the Dead, it’s fitting

The best thing about dating a Formula 1 driver is the traveling. Y/N joined Charles in all his races, mainly because she is able to work from home as an event planner. So when they were in Mexico City for the Grand Prix, she bought papel picado, sugar skulls, and little dog alebrijes. Now that they are in Brazil, Y/N bought candles, a table cloth, marigolds, and printed out photos to set up the altar.

Y/N made it back to the hotel while Charles was in the track for free practice. She placed the table cloth over the hotel room desk, added the papel picado and marigold before placing the photos in the place card holder. There was one of her aunt that died from cancer, her grandpa that died of old age, Jules, and Hervé. Onces the little altar was set up exactly how she wanted it, she placed the candles near their photos and added the sugar skulls and alebrijes wherever there was an empty space.

Though Y/N wasn’t in Mexico anymore, there are Mexican restaurants in Brazil and she ordered her aunt’s and grandpa’s favorite food plus pan de muerto to have it delivered to the hotel. There was a knock on the door and when Y/N opened it, expecting to see a hotel employee with Mexican food, she saw her boyfriend.

“Muñeco, i thought you would still be in the track.” Y/N said, charles leaned in and kissed Y/N on the cheek before walking into their hotel room.

“We finished, what’s all this?” Charles asked, pointing to the table.

“Right. Well, today is day of the dead and usually I’m in my apartment to make this ofrenda but now I’m dating you so I brought the ofrenda with me.” Y/N explained but Charles looked confused. “Um, it’s an altar, it’s a way to honor my dead relatives and welcome their spirits to our home. I usually go all out but this is a hotel room and I don’t want the fire alarm to go off.” Y/N explained and Charles looked closer at the ofrenda and saw a picture of Jules and another one of his father.

“You put them up?” Charles asked in a whisper, he felt his eyes getting teary, picking up the photo of him and his dad.

“I know you miss them a lot, everything you are doing in formula 1 in for them, I thought it would be nice to add them to the ofrenda. I know this isn’t really your tradition but it’s mine and I want to share it with you.” Y/N said softly, Charles looked at her and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, Mon ange, that is very sweet of you, really.” Charles said.

“Um, it’s tradition to add their favorite food on the altar. I ordered some Mexican for my aunt and grandpa, what did Jules and your dad like to eat?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t think we could get it here but they liked…” Charles told Y/N their favorite foods.

“I’m sure we could order it from somewhere.” Y/N said. There was a knock and Y/N opened the door, it was the food she ordered. She got the food and gave the man a tip before walking back to Charles. “We also have this bread that’s called pan de muerto, we place it on the ofrenda too.”

“I’m sure they would enjoy the bread.” Charles said smiling. He opened the bag to help Y/N place the bread on the table. “So when we were is Mexico and you told me you were shopping, you were preparing for this?”

“Of course! I’m still Mexican, Muñeco, my tradition won’t change because I’m in another country.” Y/N said and Charles chuckled. Y/N placed the food in front of her aunt’s and grandpa’s picture.

“Maybe next year you can put up the ofrenda in my place.” Charles said.

“You mean that?” Y/N asked.

“I do, we haven’t been dating long but I feel very happy with you, happier than I have been in a long time.” Charles said before he kissed Y/N softly.

“I feel happy with you too. Oh, do you want some bread? It’s really good.” Y/N said, grabbing a loaf (?) and offering it to charles.

“Sure.” Charles said, tearing off of a piece of bread to taste. He hummed in content. “This is really good, do they sell this a lot on Mexico for day of the dead?”

“Yes they do, Mexican bread is the best.” Y/N said,

“I Can tell. I’m going to send a picture of the altar to my mom, is that okay?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Y/N said and Charles took a picture of the altar, making sure Pascale could clearly see his dad and Jules. He sent it to his mom and got a response in 2 minutes.

“My mom said it’s very sweet and considerate of you to add my dad and Jules.” Charles said.

“I May not have met them but I know how much they mean to you, I couldn’t leave them out.” Y/N said, looking down all shy. Charles brought his his finger under her chin to make her look at him,

“I love you so much, thank you for this.” Charles said before kissing her deeply.

“Don’t mention it.” Y/N said as soon as they separated from the kiss. They hugged each other. “I think we should watch Coco.” Charles laughed at her suggestion. “Well how else are you supposed to get the day of the dead?”

“Fine, let’s see if you can connect you phone to the hotel TV.” Charles said.

And that’s how they spent Día de Muertos, watching Coco on Disney plus and eating pan de muerto.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[leclerc-hs]

it's cool, we're just friends? - cl16

pairing: college!charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends with benefits!) summary: in which you and a guy in your class are friends with benefits OR you and your friends with benefits might be more? warnings: smut under the cut! thigh-riding, throat-fucking, p in v sex!, no condoms (bad!), badly translated french (pls correct me), angst, pining, NOT PROOFREAD!!!! word count: 4.8k! author's note: so i ALMOST scrapped this entire thing because i wasn't sure how i felt about it so if it sucks, i understand LOL. i had a lot of fun writing this and can see myself writing a lot of scenarios for them like before there was this many feelings involved? like maybe a spring break one shot for them, when they hooked up for first time ;) PLEASE let me hear your thoughts and any comments you have. I love hearing from you guys xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE WEIGHT OF his eyes bore into the back of your skull, a palpable presence as you immerse yourself in the lecture before you. It’s almost become a ritual at this point: a magnetic pull compels you to glance his way, and there he is, a smirk stretching wide across his face, as if he holds the upper hand.

In that fleeting moment where your eyes meet his verdant gaze, a fierce intensity ignites within you. It’s as if a wildfire unleashes, consuming you with an unbridled mix of desire and exasperation. Your stomach tightens with a fervent ache, betraying the absolute irritation you feel at his ability to rile you up with one look.

Internally, Charles wrestles with the urge to gaze at you as though you’ve strung the stars and moon just for him. Yet, outwardly, he remains steadfast, unwilling to reveal his vulnerability when it comes to you. Instead, he masks his emotions behind a practiced smirk: a façade. And the blushing reaction you give him almost every time, only enthuses him more.

“Arrête!” You half-shout, though it emerges more as a whispered urgency amidst the large lecture hall.

Charles leans in over his desk, his lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear, a proximity that sets your heart racing with a rapid intensity.

“Est-ce que je te verra ice soir?” Will I see you tonight?

You kept your head straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the warmth of him being so close, resisting the allure of his voice. 

“Peut-être.” Maybe.

At the front of the lecture hall, Professor Bernard stands tall, his expression grave as he prepares his common ‘you guys are smarter than this’ speech about the recent exam grades. He highlights the alarming fact that more than half of the class received a 70% or lower. And true to his reputation as the kindest professor, he extends an olive branch by offering retakes to those who seek improvement before dismissing the lecture.

You gather your belongings, ready to make your exit, when suddenly, a heavy arm wraps around your shoulder just as you cross the threshold of the door.

You? Aced it. Charles? Not so aced it.

Which you knew meant you were helping him study as usual.

-

You watch as Charles runs his fingers through his disheveled locks, each movement betraying a hint of frustration and determination. His lips form a subtle pout as he fixates on the study material you laid out before him, his furrowed brows highlighting the depth of his concentration.

“Mon chou, je ne pensais pas que tu m’avais invite pour ça.” I didn’t think you invited me over for this.

With a gleam in his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully as he collapses on the many pillows of your bed behind him. The papers scattered across the bed threaten to take flight, but your swift reflexes saved them from soaring away into chaos.

You narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, but the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your amusement at the situation.

“Tu dois étudier.” You need to study.

Charles stares at the corners of your lips, his eyes not straying once from them even as you spoke. 

“Embrasse-moi d’abord.” Kiss me first. He nearly begs; his face almost completely covered by the hood of his sweatshirt as he laid on his back beside your cross-legged figure.

“Étudie.” Study. Your words were firm, yet you could feel your resolve slipping under the intensity of his gaze, as it traces a path from your lips to your eyes, igniting a warmth that stirred whenever he was near.

His arm reaches up behind your neck in a swift motion, too quick for you to even see it coming. His fingers grabbing the nape of your neck in a tight grip as he brings your face down to his, your body toppling over his in an unnatural position from his force. His lips collide with yours instantly, and the squeal you elicit gives him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

He groans softly against your mouth, something about how sweet your mouth tastes. The moan that escapes your lips and melded into his mouth drove him absolutely crazy. The grip on the back of your neck didn’t loosen as he held you to him, giving you no opportunity to pull away from him.

Your tank top cladded chest was pressed against the side of his body, embracing you in his warmth. You press a hand to his chest, attempting to push yourself up, but he groans against your lips in detest before loosening his grip on your neck. 

“Est-ce vraiment necessaire.” Do we have to? He begins to pepper kisses all around your face, his fingers dipping under the straps of your tank top, tracing intricate patterns of the soft skin beneath.

You slip your hand under the warmth of his hoodie, his toned muscles flexing under your cold fingertips as you trail your hand up his chest and slip one leg over him, straddling his thigh. His skin was so warm. Almost like a furnace.

He sucks in a breath, as if your touch hurt him, but really, he craved it. He wanted you everywhere. The tight leggings that adorned your body did little to prevent Charles from feeling the heat and arousal of your pussy against his thigh. A smirk widened on his lips almost instantly. He knew he had you right where he wanted you.

He could sense your contemplative thoughts by one glance at your eyes. As if you knew he needed to study, but you needed this more.

 You could barely concentrate the minute Charles sprawled onto your bed earlier, his legs spread and shorts riding up to expose the muscles of his thighs. It was even harder to think with the way his soft green eyes look up at you, and the way his fingers felt on you.

His hand trails from beneath the strap of your tank top, your hardened nipples more than visible through the thin fabric of it, to the front of your breasts.

“No bra?” His thumb rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger above the fabric of your shirt. “Planning on getting fucked, hm?” 

Your hips rut against his thigh almost instantly in response to his words. The feeling of his thigh against your clit, causing a soft moan to slip. It was then, that Charles seemed to lose all restraint as his hand grasped the side of your neck and squeezed lightly, his thumb resting in the center of your neck. He flexed his thigh, his eyes gleaming at the sight of your blown out pupils.

“Regarde-toi,” Look at you. He edged you on. “Just wanna ride m’thigh, yeah?” 

Your hips move in their own rhythm, unable to stop. It just feels too good. You nodded repeatedly as you lean over, pressing your chest to his, as he claims your lips once again. His hot, tongue sliding against yours as the stubble of his facial hair scratches your chin.

You struggle, losing the rhythm of your hips until Charles slid his hands down to your waist, guiding your movements. “C’mon mon chou, tu dois travailler pour ça.” You have to work for it.

“We should study.” You mention, the pace of your hips not stopping. As if your body has a mind of its own.

“Nous sommes.” We are. He argues, his fingertips squeezing into the skin of your hips even more. “Now, keep rubbing that pretty little pussy on me.”

-

“Oh, what about her?” You point to the pretty brunette that was currently leaned against the wall, a red solo cup in her manicured hand, as she was deep in conversation with a few other girls that you haven’t seen before.

Charles sighs heavily, rolling his eyes just slightly. “Why are you pawning me off?” He cracks a smile, his elbows gently hitting your side.

You let out a small laugh before bringing your own cup to your lips. The liquid of your drink resting on the top of your lip as you finished a sip and turned to look at Charles. “M’not!” You shrug your shoulders. “Elle est jolie and keeps looking at you thinkin’ no one’s noticed.” She’s pretty.

He wouldn’t know about the ‘pretty brunette’ you claimed was there. He didn’t know about any other girl that was here. His eyes haven’t left your figure the entire night. Since you stepped in the entrance of the house he was by your side, it was like his body knew you arrived.

“Peu importe ça, m’gonna go dance.” Whatever. You stick your tongue out at him, earning a deep laugh, and saunter off to find one of your friends already on the makeshift dance floor in the living room of the house. 

Charles leans casually against the wall, his eyes tracing the contours of your radiant smile from afar. Despite himself, a soft grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you sure you’re not together?” One of his friends, Alex, teases, leaning in close to Charles and handing him a red solo cup, its contents mostly frothy beer foam from an evidently lazy pour. “I was thinking of asking her out.”

Charles’s gaze drift from the frothy mess in his cup to Alex’s expectant face, a furrow forming on his brow. It wasn’t the foam that troubled him, rather, it was Alex’s words that unsettled him. How was he supposed to respond? We aren’t together but I think I’m in love with her?

Charles clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to speak his truth, as the words “have at it” slip past his lips with a forced nonchalance. With a hollow smile, he raises the cup to his lips, swallowing the acrid liquid with a newfound eagerness that masked the bitter taste of envy and longing festering in his chest. As Alex made his way towards you, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of anguish, knowing that he was relinquishing his chance to confess his feelings, drowning them instead in the depths of a cheap beer.

-

“Mmm, tu es tellement douée.” You’re so good.

You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in this scenario. All you remember is being dragged away from a game of beer-pong with Alex, his fingers gripping your wrist so tightly it could’ve left marks, and shoving you onto your knees as soon as he shut the bathroom door. 

Dwelling on the how’s and why’s seemed inconsequential now. Especially with his cock buried deep down your throat like it is right now, and especially with the praises that slip past his lips.

Charles lulls his head back with a loud groan as he flexes his hips into your mouth, giving you little to no opportunity to breathe. No opportunity to speak. But you didn’t care. You would do anything to please him.

“Tellement putain de jolie, mon dieu.” So fucking pretty, my God.

“Bet you’re soaked under that dress, hm?” His grip on your hair tightens. “Got you all wet without even touching you.” His laugh is deep and mocking. You feel your thighs clench, like it was an automatic response. “Only I get you like this, yeah?”

You press your face forward, not even needing his force as you take full enjoyment in the feeling of him in your mouth.

“So eager, mon chou.”

You moan at the feeling of his smooth cock against the walls of your throat. The vibrations of your moan, immediately sending him over the edge. His white, hot cum spills down your throat, filling you up, before he pulls out. A long string of saliva follows, your eyes completely teary. 

He lifts you from your knees, the cool tile of the bathroom floor no longer your support, his thumb gently resting on your chin as he studies you for a mere second. Taking in the streaky tears under your eyes and your swollen lips. He could already feel the blood rushing back to his cock.

“Bet you’re leaking all over yourself, yeah?” You catch the smirk that pulls onto his lips before his lips crash down onto yours. His teeth nibbling on your bottom lip for a brief second before he’s pulling away, pushing you up onto the bathroom sink counter as he stands in between your spread legs. “All achy?” He cocked his head to the side a little, like he knew something you didn’t.

It was so fast, you weren’t even able to ask questions before he leaned forward, his fingers slipping into the lace of your underwear, pushing them aside, and pressing his hot tongue to your soaked core.

You swore you’ve never moaned so loud in your life as you just did in this moment.  At the feeling of the kitten licks on your clit, at the feeling of him shoving two fingers into you, finding that spot he knew you loved most almost instantly.

Your fingers franticly reached into his tousled locks, pulling his hair probably harder than necessary, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he moaned right into your pussy. Like he couldn’t ever get enough of you. Like he would stay licking you for forever if he could.

“Mon dieu,” My god. You squeal as your head lulls back against the cool mirror behind you and bite your lip trying to conceal the moans.

You look down at Charles, his eyes already staring at you, his green eyes completely darkened now. It makes your stomach do a multitude of flips. Your attempt to squeeze your legs shut from the pressure building in your stomach, but Charles grips his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, holding them open.

A series of knocks are heard on the bathroom door which sends you into a total panic to which Charles yells “Va te faire foutre!” Fuck off!

 Your body squirms against Charles’ mouth and the granite of the countertop, but he holds you in place as if to say you’re not going anywhere until you soak my mouth.

He ate you out like a possessed man. Your chest is flushed red as the speed of his tongue picks up, sending you into overdrive. It wasn’t until he sucks harshly on your clit, the pressure of it, has you leaping over the edge into your orgasm. You came hard enough that your body arched, your fingers clenching his hair, pulling hard.

Charles doesn’t come up right away, he licks and licks until you’re pushing him off you. Both of your chests rose and fell in rhythm with each heavy breath, the lingering echoes of the lively party beyond the door gradually seeping back into your consciousness. It felt as though you had just descended from a faraway realm, returning to the bustling reality surrounding you.

His lips glistened, coated in you, as he stares at you completely fucked out on the bathroom counter. An unmistakable smugness in his expression.

His heart clenches as he drinks in the sight of you, so many emotions swirling in his chest. As you stretch your lips into that smile he loves so much, he feels a swell of warmth flood his senses, a tender ache stirring in the depths of his soul.

“Qu’est-ce qui te prend?” What’s gotten into you?

Not that you were complaining at what just happened. If anything, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted a repeat right now.

He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, one hand leisurely slipping into his pocket, while the other moved to grasp the door handle. With a patient stance, he awaited your readiness before even considering opening the door. “J’avais juste besoin de toi,” Just needed you. He whispers, his voice carrying a tender resonance, emphasizing the depth of longing.

And then he’s swinging the door open, guiding you both back to the party.

-

“Je pense que nous devrions arrêter.” I think we should stop.

The words felt heavy in your throat as you said them, your hand clasped in Charles’ hand as you sat across from one another in the campus coffee shop.

Charles chuckled softly, taking a leisurely sip of his drink, but when be caught the seriousness in your expression, his laughter faded. His eyebrows knitted together, a pang of pain igniting in his chest and spreading like wildfire.

You watched as he leaned his head back against the booth, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if unable to meet your eyes.

“Que veux-tu dire?” What do you mean? He met your eyes again, and you noticed a subtle shift in their hue—they were slightly darker than their usual shade of green.

“Je ne pense pas que ç ava marcher.” I don’t think this is going to work out. As you uttered the words, a queasy sensation churned in your stomach, making you feel like you were going to be sick. Similarly, Charles felt a wave of nausea wash over him upon hearing your words, his own stomach in knots.

Just looking at him had your eyes burning, but you refused to let the tears fall. Despite the overwhelming love you felt for this man, you couldn’t ignore the reality that it was unlikely to progress beyond the messy situation you found yourselves in. What were you supposed to do? Be friends that fuck for the rest of your lives?

You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. No, you’ve been thinking about this for so long, but cutting it off was just too hard. Cutting him off was too hard.

As you watched him slowly retract his fingers from yours, his hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose while he blinked, a fiery ache within your chest grew.

“We’re friends, always, right?” You asked, offering him a soft smile, though inside, your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. You reminded yourself that this was necessary. You needed to go on dates. Not that he was exactly holding you back. It just felt wrong to go on dates while sleeping with another.

“Right,” he responded, his expression devoid of a smile. “Friends.” He nodded slowly, as if carefully considering the weight of the situation before him.

“Est-ce que je peux demander ce qui a déclencé cela?” Can I ask what brought this up? His fingers tapped restlessly along the edge of the table, betraying his impatience as he awaited your answer.

Meanwhile, you sat twiddling your thumbs in your lap, occasionally stealing glances at them. Why did this conversation feel so unbearably difficult?

“Quoi?” What?

“Est-ce que j’ai fait quelque chose?” Did I do something?

You shook your head instantly, a small blush forming on your cheeks. “I just,” You began, but felt flustered as you took a pause to look back down at your fingers and then him again. His eyes made you feel hot all over, the way they never strayed from your face whenever you spoke to him, the way they dropped to your lips every so often as if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. He couldn’t.

“I just think I need to go on dates.” You nervously smiled.

“You think?” He scoffed, throwing one arm over the top of the booth, and resting it there as he fell into a relaxed position. His eye twitched slightly, as he flexed his hand and clenched it like he was holding himself back.

You’re not sure how to respond. You had anticipated this conversation to be brief, perhaps along the lines of “I think we should end this,” followed by his immediate agreement. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. You could feel yourself growing flustered the longer you sat here. Why couldn’t he just simply agree, no questions asked.

You nodded, with slight hesitance. Did you really want to end it with him? No.

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a little smirk on his face as he usually did. “Très bien.” Fine.

And that was that.

-

Charles decided that he had it up to here when you strolled into the house party, lips shiny with gloss, and you hand held in none other than Alex’s. It was as if you were trying to torture him. Like you knew that he loved you and you just wanted to hurt him a little more.

He’s watching, you can feel his eyes burn into you as you turn your head, pretending to listen to Alex as he rambles on about some story. You don’t let yourself glance over to Charles until later in the night, when he’s leaned up against the kitchen counter, a half-empty beer bottle gripped in his hand, eyes already on you.

You felt your stomach do a multitude of flips from the eye-contact, that you even almost pulled your hand from Alex’s. Like you were caught doing something wrong.

You quickly realized that you had little to no self-control, especially when it came to Charles. With his hair pushed back and the linen shirt half-unbuttoned, allowing the toned and taut muscles of his stomach to peek through, it almost seemed as though he wanted to make it even harder for you to resist. Like he wanted to punish you for not choosing him.

He had you right where he wanted you, sort of.

“Shh,” Charles nips at your earlobe, eliciting a mewl from you as he presses you against the mattress of his bed. “You want everyone to hear what a whore you are, hm?”

Another string of moans leaves your lips as he thrusts into you, the pads of his fingers gripping the front of your neck tightly. His eyes fixed on yours, the pace of his hips was slow, but so deep. 

“Tell me,” Charles began, his tongue trailing along your collarbones and up your neck until his mouth hovered over yours. “Still wanna play stupid games with me, jolie fille?” Pretty girl.

You whined as his hips picked up in pace. “Ouvrir.” Open. You did so without a second thought, only to be met with a string of saliva meeting your tongue. Charles groaned as you swallowed his spit, eagerly.

“Still wanna pretend we’re just friends?” He could feel your walls trembling as her hand snaked its way to the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. It was a tangle of tongues and moans.

“Does he fuck you as good as me?” You couldn’t handle the way he was talking to you, staring at you, touching you. “Gripping me like you’re gonna come.”

You shook your head repeatedly. 

“That’s it,” His voice was gentle in your ear. “So good, mon chou.” 

Your breaths were jagged and heavy as he took you harder and harder. “Rub your pretty little clit for me, yeah?” 

Your body was shaking as you trailed your fingers down, fingers playing with your clit. Charles rested on his knees, his eyes staring at his cock being swallowed by your pussy, and the way your fingers toyed with your sensitive clit. He groaned at the sight of his cock coated in you. 

It wasn’t long before you careening forward with a cry, your body arching off the bed, as you came around his cock. Charles fell forward over you, an arm on each side of your head, as he cocooned you. His hips didn’t let up as you sobbed out, your toes curling.

Charles could feel his resolve slipping at the feeling of your soaked walls clenching him. He threw his head into the crevice of your neck, the rhythm of his hips faltering as you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to thrust even deeper than before. He rolled his hips, pumping into you with such a fervent rush. 

“Mon dieu,” His groans were soft in your ear. “You feel so good.”

It wasn’t until you moaned in his ear, begging for him to come in you, that he lost all control. A deep moan, pressing his hips down against yours as he held you down, pumping his cum deep into you.

For a few moments, it was silent. Just the sound of your heavy breaths as Charles collapsed to the side of you. You both felt oddly at peace, even with the thumping of the house party music heard from the other side of his bedroom door.

Charles stood up, grabbing a towel from his bathroom, before bringing it to you to help clean you up. Something primal filled his chest as he stared at you sprawled on his bed, his cum dripping out of you. 

It was the last swipe of the towel when he finally spoke.

“We’re not friends.” He stated. He was sick of teetering around the topic. He was sick of seeing you with other guys at his house.

You opened your mouth to retort, but he held his hand up, essentially silencing you. 

“Stop pretending you want any other guy’s cock.” He stood before you as you sat up on the edge of the bed still naked, hands clenched at his sides in a fist. You began to stand up, your face turning red with anger, not because of his words but because he was right.

You grabbed your dress that was in a pile on the floor, slipping it on in a hurry. “Je dois partir.” I need to go. You began, “Alex me cherche probablement.” Alex is probably looking for me.

It was then that Charles raised his voice, if it weren’t for the loud music, you could’ve sworn the entire house would’ve heard.

“J’en ai tellement marre de ça!” I’m so sick of this! He runs his fingers through his hair, pacing the room back and forth. You felt your words caught in your throat as you stood still, your eyes following his every movement until he stood before you, his hands gripping your waist.. “Je t’aime!” I love you! He laughs after he says it, like he’s so pathetically in love with you and you have no care in the world for it.

“I cannot handle seeing you with another man.” He rambles off. “I cannot handle seeing you showing up here, to my home, holding another man’s hand.” He seethes, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch the bridge of his nose as he breathes in, attempting to calm himself down.

“I know you love me.” His fingers grab your hand, pulling it up to his chest and holding it where his heart beats. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed at him, his eyes reflecting a wild intensity, his hair disheveled hair adding to his untamed allure. Sensing your vulnerability, he gently cupped your face with his other hand, offering you a tender touch. You leaned into his comforting embrace, as if seeking solace in his presence. With a silent nod, you pressed your head against his hand, a single tear escaping down your cheek, bearing witness to the depth of your emotions.

“I’m so sick of seeing people with what is mine.” He urged. “You can’t be someone else’s, not when you are already mine.”

“Charlie,” You drew in a deep breath, locking eyes with him, drowning in the depths of his green gaze. Every fiber of your being resonated with love for this man, an unshakeable devotion that consumed your soul.

“S’il te plait.” Please. His voice was a whispered hush as he begged. “Put me out of my misery.” 

He opened his mouth to continue, but you didn’t let him. You stood on the tips of your toes, leaning forward to press your chest against his as you pressed your lips to him. His arms immediately wrapping around your waist as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of you in his mouth again, his cock already hardening for you.

You pulled off him, “Really?” He let a small laugh escape his lips as he pulled your mouth back onto his for a small peck.

“I’m a man in love.” He grins, like he has nothing to be ashamed about.

“Je t’aime.” I love you.

Charles tenderly pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along the velvety skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Répète-le.” Say it again. He whispers, his voice husky with desire. As his lips continue down their intoxicating dance on your neck, his fingers trail the straps of your dress, gradually easing them down your shoulders with a tantalizing touch.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. He placed a small nip to your neck, eliciting a small squeal, as he lifted you up and carried you back to his bed.

“M’so in love with you,” He presses a kiss to your lips. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

[welphelpmelt]

Tu es manques de mon ame

Danny knew that it was rare for a ghost to have two obsessions— even rarer to have three. Ghosts usually dedicate their undead lives to their first obsession and rarely have time for anything else. But really, it should not have been a surprise when he formed a third obsession— one still related to his first but still so different.

Before his death, Danny was always protective over those he deemed his, whether they were his friends or family. He always wanted to make sure they were protected, and while they didn’t understand it, they allowed him to do as he pleased. When Danny died, he died hoping and praying that Sam and Tucker were okay— that the portal didn’t end up exploding or sucking them into it— that they didn’t die because of his stupidity. After becoming a half-ghost, his protectiveness increased tenfold. And Danny? The poor boy was so confused about why he was suddenly more protective over people after his little “accident.”

It was only after a visit to Frostbite— after the fight with Dark Pariah— that he got a rundown on ghost biology and understood that it was his obsession. And not only did he have one, but two.

After that, Danny learned that, yes, his interest in space had turned into an obsession when he died, but he just didn't notice because he had been flying off into space in his free time, therefore satisfying and feeding his obsession. It turned out that to satisfy and feed his protection obsession, he just needed to protect the people around him. As Phantom, that wasn’t a problem, but as Danny? He had to find a more subtle way to do it. Convincing Jazz and Tucker to wear a tracker wasn’t that hard— what was hard was convincing Sam to wear one. She eventually caved once Danny started sulking for a week straight and almost got hit by a car while doing it.

Danny was happy. He got into Gotham University for aerospace engineering and had a part-time job at an old mechanic shop. His sister was in Metropolis getting a degree in psychology, and Tucker and Sam were together in New York— Tucker studying software engineering and information technology, and Sam studying botany.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side on a random Wednesday when he missed his alarm. He ran into the nearest coffee shop, but thanks to his fantastic luck, he bumped into someone the moment he entered. And his core fucking purrs at the sight of the guy. He looks tired, on the verge of death, but oh so pretty. Danny could see the hidden muscles that the well-fitting suit concealed. He could feel his core reaching out, trying to connect with this poor guy, and Danny had to physically hold himself back from reaching out while simultaneously wrangling in his core.

After apologies and a coffee date, Danny learned the guy's name and a bunch of other stuff about Tim. They enjoyed it so much that they scheduled another date, which turned into another, and it wasn’t long before they were in a loving relationship.

Danny was worried. When he met Tim, he was immediately obsessed, and when they started dating, it got even worse. He wanted Tim all to himself. He wanted Tim happy. He wanted Tim safe. He wanted to be there when he laughed and cried. He wanted to be with him during his failures and successes. He wanted so much of Tim, he knew it was unhealthy.

So Danny did the only thing that made sense— he acted normal. He held back all those urges and pretended he wasn’t an obsessed freak who wanted to love Tim like there was no tomorrow. He toned it down to what humans would call normal— no human would ever love someone so obsessively and devotedly. That is only something a ghost would do. He was kind, patient, respectful, and understanding.

After a few months, Danny knew that he had to figure out what was wrong with him. After a quick visit to Frostbite, Danny learned that he had a love obsession. According to Frostbite, a love obsession occurs when he finds a partner who his core approves of. It is as simple as that, and Danny was confused but even more worried.

Danny had seen what a love obsession does to you. Just look at Vlad! He was insane! And one of Danny’s worst fears was turning into that. He had seen what Vlad’s obsession had done to his mom— she was cordial at best and downright disgusted at worst, truly only tolerating him for his dad’s sake.

After consulting with Frostbite, Danny learned that since his obsession wasn’t fully formed, he had time to stop it from fully maturing. The only way to do that was to isolate himself from the object of his obsession for about three to six months.

Which was easier said than done.

Because Danny loved Tim.

To Danny, it wasn’t even an option to not love him. After all, what wasn’t there to love about Tim? Tim was smart, passionate, and intelligent— everything to Danny. To stay away from him for six months, when being away from him for even thirty minutes felt like his core was being ripped out, would be absolute torture.

But it would be worth it if it meant that Tim would be okay. He didn’t want to become Vlad. He didn’t want Tim to treat him like his mom treated Vlad.

So instead of asking for a little bit of time away from Tim, Danny decided that the best course of action was to break up with Tim.

Hopefully, on a bad note— so bad that Tim hated him so much that Danny’s core would give up and move on. Liar, a voice hissed. You know your core will break if that happens.

Or maybe they would end on a neutral note, and Tim would move on and find someone better— someone who wasn’t a ghost, someone who could love Tim normally as he deserved— which made Danny’s core ache.

But it was okay.

Because it was for Tim.

(Tu es manques de mon ame = You are missing from my soul)

Do i do part two? who knows

[giuseppe-yuki]

popular

charles leclerc x hedgehog shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: none :)

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: no way a hedgehog can be more popular than charles leclerc, right?

picture credits from pinterest :)

the weather in zandervoort was beautiful. everything was pretty much picture perfect, with the sun shining bright and the wind making the plants sway softly in the wind. team hospitalities glimmered in the rays of sunlight and engineers mingled around the paddock area. the problem was, you were stuck inside one of the ferrari driver rooms with your boyfriend, who was deeply concentrated on scrolling through social media on his phone. i have very important work to do, he had said when he led you into the room, dumping his racing gear in a corner. now, you watch as his watercolor eyes glanced up and down at an alarming pace as he swiped through his tiktok fyp on his couch. 

“i thought you had work to do, charlie,” you say, picking at your fingernails. 

charles looks up from his phone and glances at you sprawled out on the couch next to him. ”um… yes, i am. this is important,” he replies, going back to his phone, this time clicking through instagram. 

“wow…” you mutter, glaring at his oblivious figure on the couch. “that’s not kind of you to lie to me.”

he doesn’t respond as he types a quick note to what seems to be carlos on messages. 

you reach into your bag, fishing out your tinted plumping lip gloss. after swiping a considerable amount onto your lips, you haul yourself up into a sitting position. you bat your eyelashes at charles, and start speaking to him in your sweetest voice. 

”can i have a kiss, mon amour?”

to that, he gladly drops his phone momentarily in his lap to peck your lips.

you grab him and start kissing him roughly, borderline making out with him as you try and get as much lip plumper on to him. 

“woah,” he says, pulling back afterwards, grinning from the intense kiss. “what was that for?” then, his eyes grow wide. “woah!!” he cries again, this time for a different reason. he raises his hand to his lips. “wait, why are my lips tingling??”

you giggle not-so-secretly, quickly shoving the lip gloss back into your bag. 

unfortunately, your boyfriend was a formula one driver, so of course he used his absolutely wild reaction time to his advantage. he whips out his hand and snatches the offending beauty product out of your hand. 

“LIP PLUMPER???” he shrieks, reading the fancy print on the label. he jumps up from the couch, phone all but forgotten. “oh, you are going to pay for this,” he announces. 

cackling, you leap away from him, running to the opposite side of the room in order to avoid being captured. he sprints towards you, arms out.

fortunately for you, you had one more trick up your sleeve. you throw him a wink before shifting into your hedgehog form, and scurry quickly behind a dresser. wedging yourself in the small crack, you squeak tauntingly at charles as he is left glowering at you through the gap.

he pouts at you, arms crossed. “meanie!” he snaps, “my lips still feel so weird after you cursed me with whatever that was!” 

five minutes before charles is scheduled to head to team headquarters for a meeting, you sneakily try to sneak out of the crevice behind the dresser. charles, newly dressed in a hoodie and rather ugly pair of jeans spots you though, and snatches you up. you roll up into a ball and try using your quills to poke him rather unsuccessfully. “tsk, tsk, tsk,” he says, shaking his head with a smug smile at your irritable screeches in his hand. “don’t try and purposely poke me when you’re the one who started this, baby.”

you roll your eyes at him and plop yourself down in the middle of his hand. 

however, before you know it, you are raised from your seat in your boyfriends hand into the fluffy hood of his jacket.  “ha,” he exclaims, shoving you in rather unceremoniously. “that’s what you get for being a bully- hoodie jail!” 

he walks out of his driver’s room with you tucked snugly in his hood, and both hands clutching his celsius branded water bottle and his phone. somehow, the nice zandvoort weather from before had done a complete 180, and turned from warm and sunny into chilly and wet in the time period you were inside charles’ driver room. so, you honestly weren’t complaining for being stuck in metaphorical “hoodie jail”- it was warm and comfy being wedged in the soft material. you basically fall asleep with the methodical rocking and soothing tones of charles talking to fans and other drivers as he strolls through the paddock.

by the time you wake up, you can tell a bit of time has passed. the fresh smell of light rain fills your nose, and the sky has turned a significant darker shade. you peek out of charles' hood, waddling your way out onto his shoulder. 

feeling your tiny paws on the top of his shoulder, he gently scoops you up into his hand. 

“had a good sleep, huh?” he laughs, giving you a few pats on the head.

you let out a content yawn, as if answering his question, and then stretches out your tiny body.

he smiles at you, amused at your cute antics. “you slept soundly the whole way from the drivers room and through my entire meeting. i am surprised how you even slept through carlos accidentally squishing you when he slapped my back in greeting!”

suddenly, you and charles are interrupted by the most egregious shout that you both had ever heard.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” a nearby fan shouts, absolutely vibrating with excitement. “IS THAT A HEDGEHOG???”

charles turns to the man, blinking in surprise. “um.. yes! it is,” he states.

the fan’s previous yell of delight had caused a trickle of nearby fans and media reporters to crowd around charles, eager to get a look and a picture of the supposed hedgehog in his hands. 

overlapping yells from the crowd fills your ears. “leclerc, leclerc, can you pose for a picture with your hedgehog?” “please, charles, can i pet the hedgehog?” “are you free for an interview on how you manage a pet in the paddock?” “a signature please!!!”

used to the media attention because of your active role as charles’ girlfriend, you pose yourself in a flattering angle and blink cutely at the phones and high quality cameras turned in your direction. 

“hey, do a trick!” a little girl shouts from the crowd.

you do a simple turn around your boyfriend’s hand and wiggle your butt. 

the crowd erupts into cheers, as if you had just done an impossible feat. 

“what a talented hedgehog!” a nearby reporter exclaims. she tells her crew to train their camera on you, as if the famed formula 1 driver charles marc herve perceval leclerc was not just standing right there. 

the news of your presence quickly spreads from mouth to mouth.

as charles slowly inches his way through the paddock towards his driver’s room, more and more fans come up, requesting pictures with you. 

a girl walks up, bracelet in hand. it is lined with red and white beads, with the words “forza ferrari siempre” in gold lettering in the front. charles reaches out his hand, thanking her for the gift. but, she snatches it back, shaking her head. “this is actually for your hedgehog.” she says, draping the bracelet over your spiny back. 

you give her a lick of thanks, smiling internally at her squeal of delight. 

your boyfriend lets out a grumble of annoyance at being rejected. “hmph, fine, i didn’t really want it anyway,” he mutters under his breath.

bright and early the next morning, you climb out of charles’ ferrari, phone in hand. your boyfriend reaches out his hand for you to hold, which you gladly take. it’s warm, compared to the chilly weather that has suddenly overcome zandervoort over the weekend. you pull your designer puffer jacket closer around you as you scan into the paddock.

the media stationed at the gate greets you both warmly, cameras clicking. 

“hey!” they shout, waving their arms. “over here please!” 

you wave politely, flashing your best smile for the camera. 

“they love me so much,” you joke. “those pictures of my top-tier posing went viral yesterday!”

“no, they love me more!” charles shoots back confidently.

as soon as the words leave his mouth, some fans approach him. “hi charles, when are you bringing your hedgehog out?” they ask enthusiastically. “we saw pictures of her on twitter yesterday and would like to take our own photographs with her please!” a fan reaches into her ferrari branded jacket and pulls out an ink pad. “look!” she exclaims, gesturing to it. “i even specially bought an ink pad so i can get her ‘signature’ as well.”

you raise an eyebrow at charles, smirk on your face. 

he rolls his eyes at you, and turns back to the fans. 

“yeah, ok fine, i’ll bring her out soon.”

a/n: the last oneshot for the shapeshifting series! this series was honestly so fun to write, and i'm already excitedly planning the spinoff version. thank you to all the readers who followed along with me on my journey for my first ever series! i love you all <3

taglist: ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary 

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks

[ducksido]

Hi, kinda a request but first. HELLO SHAKESPEARE???(/ref) like, wdym we're moots??? I hav ur notifs active????

So, request:

Rook having a soft spot (those that make u laugh when someone strokes it) on, like, his neck or the veiny part of his wrist and reader is desesperately trying to touch that part just to hear Rooks actual laugh (cause i refuse to believe his South African ass does not have a seagull laugh).

Also, (this is optional, ofc) extra points if Rook is slowly descending to (lovesick) madness cause reader is tackling him and pulling WWE wrestler moves just to touch said soft spot.

(you must be my Christopher Marlowe then [^∇^])

Y/N had a mission.

A sacred mission.

Rook Hunt—NRC’s poetic menace, master archer, and professional lurker—had a weak spot. A true, bonafide soft spot that, when touched, could crack that mask of poetic nonsense and bring forth his true laugh. Not that soft, refined chuckle he always did, but his actual laugh. The one Y/N was convinced sounded like a seagull and a hyena fighting for dominance.

And they were going to hear it. No matter what it took.

The first attempt had been subtle. A casual brush of fingers along his wrist as they handed him a book in the library. Rook, the slippery bastard, simply smiled, tilting his head. “Quelle intention espiègle, mon cher ami. A test of reflexes, perhaps?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I’ve only just begun.”

By the third attempt—an ‘accidental’ pat to the back of his neck—Y/N had fully committed. This was war.

Rook, to his credit, managed to dodge most of their attempts with his ridiculous hunter’s instincts. But even he could not escape the inevitability of a determined Y/N.

One afternoon, Y/N lay in wait. Patient. Calculating. Dangerous.

Rook strolled past Ramshackle’s porch, whistling a tune, unknowing of the force about to descend upon him.

Y/N struck.

Tackling him like a linebacker, they wrapped their arms around his neck, fingers digging into the spot just below his ear.

Rook buckled. His whole body spasmed, a sound erupted from him that defied human comprehension.

A shrill, wheezing cackle split the air, like a dying seagull choking on its own hubris.

Victory was so, so sweet.

Y/N held on as he writhed, laugh cracking into gasping, hiccupping giggles that sent them into their own fit of laughter.

“You—!! Mon dieu—!!” Rook tried to escape, but his body betrayed him, shaking with uncontrollable mirth.

“I KNEW IT!” Y/N cried, triumphant. “I KNEW YOU LAUGHED LIKE A SEAGULL!”

Rook, breathless and weak, lay sprawled out as Y/N perched over him like a victorious predator.

His green eyes glowed with something unreadable, something dangerous.

“Mon coquin rusé,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You have—” a breath, “ensnared me in a most inescapable trap.”

Y/N blinked. “Are you—are you okay?”

Rook only smiled.

No.

Oh no.

The hunter had become the hunted.

Before Y/N could react, they found themselves flipped onto their back, Rook looming over them with an intensity that sent alarms blaring in their head.

“Chéri,” he purred, voice giddy with exhilaration, madness creeping into his tone. “You have gifted me the joy of laughter—I must, in turn, return the favor.”

…

The screams of pure, unfiltered REGRET could be heard across the entirety of NRC that evening.