#Double charles and chicken

[grey-and-stuff]

Sooo yeah, how about that last episode 🥺🤍🤍🤍

I gotta get proper screen shots of these later 😭

Yes, they’re the only ones I care about in the entire story 😂🤍🤍🤍

It’s a shame that new audiences won’t know how Phipps got his chicken if they haven’t read the manga.

And now I gotta order that cake!

[navyciel]

[factual-flittermouse]

Another day, another reason why reading things wrong sometimes makes life a bit more fun

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead?

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris (eventually, friends to lovers ofc)

authors note: this is so dramatic and for what! sorry to pierre for making you the villian, and lets pretend ferrari isnt as shit as it currently is! lol enjoy, would love to know what you think <333

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo and others

yourusername tough day in the office today, mexico '22 is just not to be I guess. As always a learning curve and we will grow from todays DNF 😞

See you soon Brazil !!

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ynfan1 we are still so proud of you! keep pushing 👍

f1fan this is literally what you get for trying to compete in a MALE sport

f1fan2 fr she's bringing down pierre and the team f1fan3 too emotional for the big leagues ynfan2 stfu you do realise your favourite MALE drivers dnf all the time aswell

alphataurif1 we come back stronger!!

yourusername 👊👊

alex_albon lily is wondering would going for ice cream cheer you up?

yourusername I love her, yes please 🥹 landonorris I'm coming yourusername nuh huh its for us pointless drivers! landonorris come on it was only 2..

f1fan4 lando norizz trying to make it a double date lollll

f1fan5 bro chill these two have been friends since literal birth

alphataurif1

liked by yourusername and others

alphataurif1 the difference 2 weeks can make! our girl yourusername is starting pole position on sunday here in brazil 🔥

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yourusername woohoo roll on sunday!!

ynfan1 go bestie go !

ynfan2 AT moving up💪

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername great work achieved today, the car and track felt good. hopefully we can convert this position into some points to finish of the season on a high, all we need is team work on the track (and for max's alarm to not go off so he misses the race 😀)

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maxverstappen1 why the personal attack

yourusername WHY do you have to win every week, surely you are bored by it by now ... charles_leclerc I agree, maybe take a week off? f1fan2 hahah these two i'm obsessed

landonorris please do well but not TOO well, just stay behind me 👍

yourusername and look at your ass all race? hard pass

ynfan1 that mention of teamwork is a lil suss...

ynfan2 not really?? it is a team sport ynfan1 yeah but do you not find it weird how unfriendly yourusername and pierregasly are, despite them being on the same team? f1fan tbf I have always noticed how forced their videos are together. and they dont even follow each other

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername lollll ruining my career one interview at a time, but at least we hit the clubs looking fire 🔥

p.s. I stand by what I've said I only have apologies for two people 1) my pr manager (who I dont pay enough for this) and 2) charles for linking your name to this hot mess!

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landonorris it's so great being the unproblematic one 😎

yourusername does mcclaren need another golden driver from bristol??? I fear im out of a seat soon .. ynfan1 this is so sad you are way to talented of a driver to be out of a suit

charles_leclerc No worries 😅 Just make sure you buy me dinner next time before dragging me into the chaos. 🍽️🤷‍♂️

yourusername you got it prince of monaco! f1fan2 PLEASE PLEASE DATE ynfan2 ewww no her and lando are so so in love they're just too blind and stupid

danielricciardo absolute legend behaviour mate!!

yourusername learning from the best danny ric 😎

alphataurif1 and yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

alphataurif1 From grid battles to glory laps! 🏁✨ Our unstoppable driver just clinched her FIRST WIN at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix! 🏆 Watch out, world – she's rewriting the history books and leaving her mark on the track. 🚀🌟

#AlphaQueen #AbuDhabiWinner

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danielricciardo What a race! Big congrats, yourusername. That first win feeling is something else! Enjoy every moment!

alex_albon: absolutely smashed it! huge congratulations on your first win!

carlossainz55 felicidades!!

susie_wolff: breaking barriers and making history! huge congratulations on your first win!

yourusername AHHHHH I CANT BELIEVE IT ! I LOVE YOU TEAM !!

ynfan1 lando where is your congrats you are slippinnn!!

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and others

landonorris I've never been this happy to lose, but it's pretty cool seeing your best friend win in her rookie year. EVEN if she beaten me to it 😞

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yourusername LANDOOOO you are a the bestest friend ever

yourusername would not have gotten here with out you, my partner in crime <3

ynfan1 best friend?? y'all are still so blind

f1fan everytime you call her your best friend you reaffirm the lando NORIZZ name

danielricciardo facts alex_albon facts carlossainz55 facts charles_leclerc facts yukitsunoda0511 facts maxverstappen1 facts landonorris CAN YOU SHUT UP

scuderiaferrari

liked by landonorris and others

scuderiaferrari oh we thought we should just let you know our driver line up for 2023 👀 say hello to the dynamic addition to the Ferrari family, the wonderfully feisty yourusername! get ready for a season full of speed, passion, and fierce competition. Welcome to Maranello! 🇮🇹

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ynfan1 HOLY F*CK

susie_wolff wow congrats yourusername!! wishing you all the best !

yourusername thank you so much susie! your advice the last few weeks has help me so much ! ynfan1 I love when girls support girls 💓

yourusername can't wait to get started! forza ferrari ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc this is going to be incredible! congrats !!

yourusername thank you charles <33 be prepared to be sick of me lol ynfan1 so happy shes got a teammate who acc is a decent guy

ynfan2 LOLLLL I bet pierre is sick

landonorris slayed 💅

yourusername 😂😂 f1fan watch out mr norizz her new teammate is mr steal-your-girl

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you. 

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account. 

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place. 

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar. 

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock. 

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest. 

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating. 

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car. 

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened. 

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall. 

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that. 

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans. 

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately. 

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it. 

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest. 

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk. 

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher. 

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’. 

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

 You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh. 

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing. 

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap. 

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb. 

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine. 

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you. 

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer. 

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom. 

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.” 

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him. 

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along. 

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.” 

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks. 

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.” 

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway. 

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite. 

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father. 

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you. 

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first.  “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went. 

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been. 

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight. 

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised. 

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.  Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (8/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's always nice meeting new people. Especially British ones.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, one swear word, social media aspect

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: this chapter is for everyone who send me kind words when I was feeling down. even tho I don't answer every single message, I read everything you send me. I love you.

You look desperately at the piece of paper in your hand. 

You have the chicken breast, the avocado and the kale and garlic. According to the signs in the shop, two aisles down are the jars of sun-dried tomatoes that you also need. But where the heck are the sesame seeds and chilli flakes?

You rub your forehead with the back of your hand. 

For twenty minutes you have been walking through the supermarket, which is so much bigger than the one around the corner from you. Ten minutes ago you put the chicken in the shopping basket, which is hanging down on your elbow. And since then you have been wandering the aisles with little success, trying to find the rest that Charles scribbled on the piece of paper. 

When you left the bedroom this morning, your roommate had already disappeared. He had stowed his sleeping things in the wardrobe and tidied up the living room. Even the dishes had disappeared from the sink. Apparently he got up very early. 

After drinking a glass of orange juice, you found the note on the kitchen table that Charles had left there. 

"Bonjour, 

Je suis à la salle de sport ce matin. I'm at the gym this morning.

Pourriez-vous acheter ces choses pour le déjeuner ? Could you please buy these things for lunch?

Merci, mon ami. 

Charles

PS.: Mes amis et moi sortons ce soir et j'aimerais que tu viennes avec moi. My friends and I are going out tonight and I would like you to come along".

Next to it was another piece of paper with the shopping list for the bowl his nutritionist had picked out for him. Judging by the ingredients, Charles has good taste and for a moment you had considered buying a double portion - one for him and one for you - but the toast lying in your kitchen is about to go bad and you are reluctant to throw it away. Besides, no food in the world can beat a good sandwich.

But reading the list, you also realise that the small supermarket around the corner would not be enough to get everything.

The employee you asked a few minutes ago gave you a rough direction where you could find the sesame seeds, but he disappeared so quickly that you couldn't follow up. And since then you've been standing in a corridor that looks like you might find them here. But you've read through every label on every shelf, and although your French has improved - and you have a translator app on your phone - none of them sounded remotely like sesame or seeds.

"A pretty lady wasn't on my shopping list today, but I can be spontaneous," you hear someone with a British accent say behind you.

As you turn around, a young man is standing in front of you. He is a little taller than you and wears a black hoodie with his hands in his pockets and a black cap on his head. Although it is winter, his skin is tanned, and as he grins broadly, you see a small gap between his white front teeth.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to gauge whether he is really serious, and glance briefly at your shopping list before turning to face him fully. "An overeager man is not on mine either. And unfortunately, since I have to stick to my budget, I can't be quite as spontaneous."

His grin widens even more. "So the pick-up line was that lousy?"

His smile is so honest and friendly it's infectious. "Terrible."

The young man presses his tongue into his cheek before pulling his hand out of his jumper pocket to hold it out to you. "Lando. Nice to meet you."

As you place your hand in his, you feel the warmth of his skin. "Y/N."

Before you can respond, Lando snatches the piece of paper in your hand. His eyes flicker over the ingredients on it and then over the contents of your shopping basket. "You've been standing here for ten minutes. Do you need any help?"

You narrow your eyes and try to reach for the list in his big hands, but he is quicker. He pulls his hand away. "Have you been watching me? See if the note says stalker."

He pretends to go through the ingredients again, but his gaze lingers on you again after a few moments. "Stalker it doesn't say, but helpful stranger it does." He holds the note up to your nose. "Right under chicken breast. See. Right there. In invisible ink."

You push your lower lip forward and consider whether you should accept his help. The only thing against it is the fact that you can usually help yourself. But since he has already noticed how helplessly you search for the missing groceries, the argument is not exactly convincing.

"Alright." You extend your arm and wave it in a semicircle in front of you. "Show me the way."

Lando leads the way as you follow him through the shop. Despite his jumper, you can see that his cross is relatively wide. Not as wide as Charles, but still enough to be noticeable. 

"You don't seem to be from around here, do you?" asks Lando as you walk past the cheese shelf. He looks down at you. 

"I've actually lived here for months, but I've never been to this supermarket," you admit, shrugging. "The stuff on the list isn't for me, it's for my roommate. I'm not much of a bowl fan."

The helpful stranger stops abruptly in front of a shelf, causing you to bump lightly into him. You can still feel the hard muscles through the many layers of clothing. "What are you more into?" When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Food-wise, I mean."

"Culinarily, I'm afraid I've stayed at McDonalds level. Or frozen pizza." As Lando grins, you lightly punch his arm. "I know, I know. Like a kid."

He reaches out and takes a packet from the shelf, and as he puts it in the basket, you see that it's sesame seeds. He then takes the basket from your hand. "So I don't need to take you to a super fancy, expensive restaurant? You'd be happy with take-out as well?" He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. 

Apparently he can't help it. But you find his boyish charm not annoying, rather amusing. 

You raise your hand and poke your index finger against his chest. "You could buy me a can of soup, too, and I'd be blown away."

Lando is too surprised to retort, so he lowers his eyes to the list in his hand. You can still see the blush that comes to his face. He clears his throat. "Chilli flakes should be here somewhere too. Ah, there. Right behind you." He leans forward a little and reaches past you. As you inhale, you can smell his perfume.

"Thanks for your help, Lando," you say as you stand together at the checkout a little later, putting your purchase into a bag. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Your smile is genuine and you're glad he returns it. If it hadn't been for him, you'd almost certainly still be standing here tomorrow looking for the ingredients.

"I'm glad I could help." As you take your groceries from him, he shoulders the bag and shakes his head. "Would it be weird if I asked you if I could walk you home?"

"It would." You've both known each other for a few minutes and for sure it's unwise for a young stranger to find out where you live. Yet something about him makes you trust him. As Lando's mouth curls into a thin line, you smile kindly at him. "But weird is okay."

His expression brightens instantly. "Great. Show me the way. I'll follow you."

The walk home takes thirty minutes, but it feels much shorter with Lando by your side. He's two years older than you and incredibly funny, which is why your stomach starts to hurt from laughing at some point. He talks about what it was like growing up in England and that although he has his permanent home here in Monaco, he still works there. 

"So you're always flying back and forth? Isn't that very tiring?" you ask him. The house where your home is located comes into your field of vision. In a moment you are about to say goodbye and somehow you have a feeling that he would make an attempt to ask for your number. 

"It's very exhausting," he confesses, but shrugs. "But you know yourself what it's like to live here. Monaco is beautiful and I love it. Besides, many of my friends live here. It's definitely worth the stress for me."

You stop at the front door and Lando's smile disappears from his face as he realises that your time - for now - is up. He hands you your groceries, which he's been carrying for you like a gentleman for the last half hour. 

"Thank you. For your help and the nice company," you thank him and fish the front door key out of your pocket.

Lando puts his hands back in the pockets of his jumper, undecided whether to hug you goodbye or not. "I have to thank you." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner? I'll get your favourite can of soup too," he grins and you have to laugh out loud.

"I'd love to," you reply. Why green eyes and dimples suddenly flash in the back of your mind, you don't know.

"Great. Do you have Instagram?" he asks and you look at him, confused. He raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck nervously with it. "I'd ask for your number, but I don't think you're someone who gives out their number to helpful strangers just because they're friendly."

You turn your head and point to the front door. "Well, you already know where I live, after all. And yet you ask for my Instagram?"

He licks his lips once with his tongue. "I didn't mean to be too forward."

You look down at your shopping bag, then back up at him. "You? Forward? No way."

You tell him your Instagram name and he saves it before you say goodbye with a hug that, in retrospect, you might find a little too brief. But Lando doesn't seem to want to cross any lines, which is why he only puts one arm around you to pull you close for a moment, not pressing you tightly against him but leaving some space between you.

"I'll get back to you," he says as you put the key in the door lock and turn it. "Promise."

When you enter the apartment minutes later, Charles is sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop, which is on the coffee table in front of him. You feel his gaze on you as you close the door behind you and slip off your shoes.

"Bonjour, Y/N." He gets up and follows you into the kitchen, where you take the groceries out of the bag and place them on the countertop. "Thank you for shopping. Did you sleep well?"

You did indeed. Whether it was the wine or the fact that you really enjoyed your evening with him, you don't know. When you woke up this morning and found that Charles had already left, you had been a little too relieved. The thoughts you harboured towards him last night make you feel guilty, so you decide to repress them and forget about them. 

Everything that happened last night was purely amicable, which his "mon ami" on the note also confirms. Secretly, you are glad that he sees it that way too. If he were to give you signs of being interested, you would have to think seriously about the whole situation. And you don't want that.

You're happy living with Charles. And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're sure he's a better friend than anyone else has ever been. No one in your old group of friends had ever been so friendly, so helpful, so caring. 

If that's how friends behave, then you never really had any.

"Well," you answer him. "I'm still alive, although I didn't lock the door yesterday. That certainly lets me sleep well."

Charles smiles and reaches for the chicken breast, which he rinses and seasons as you put a pan of oil on the hob. "Or maybe I just want you to feel safe. And someday, when you're not expecting it, I'll catch you," he jokes. 

"And that's exactly why I was serious about my offer last night," you return, watching as he puts the chicken into the hot oil. You hear it hiss and bubble. "That you can sleep in bed tonight. I don't mind. After all, it's your bed. And it's only fair that you use it."

Charles turns the chicken in the pan and looks at you. "And you're not just doing this so I won't murder you while you sleep?" His grin widens. 

"That, my friend, is a nice side effect."

While the chicken sizzles away, you prepare the avocado and Charles the kale. "It's all right, Y/N. It's only been the second night on the couch. And I promise you nothing will happen that would make you lock the door."

"But last night you -"

"Last night the wine was talking out of me when I sent you the picture," he interrupts. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." His smile is gentle. "That's what we agreed and that's what we'll stick to."

"That we agreed, I know," you confirm, digging a bowl out of the cupboard. Charles fills it with the ingredients and finally puts the roasted chicken on top. You turn off the hob. "But I don't think we have to stick rigidly to that rule for this," you point to the space between you, "to work. We're friends, not strangers. And as your friend, I can't have you breaking your back."

You see Charles swallow before turning away and picking up the bowl. Apparently he doesn't know what to say in response, because he changes the subject as you sit down on the couch together. "So, are you coming tonight? We were going out for dinner and then to a club. You don't have to come if you don't want to, of course, but I'd love to introduce you to my friends. We're a cool group and I think you'd fit in quite well." He spears a piece of avocado with his fork. "Besides, maybe I can take your mind off your asshole of an ex-boyfriend that way."

That's right. There was something. 

You haven't had to think about him since last night. About him calling you all the time and spoiling your mood. That he cheated on you a while back and broke your heart. 

Charles managed, with just a film and his company, to make you forget the pain and anger. In his presence you felt comfortable, warm, which was perhaps also a little due to the wine. And as you thought back over the evening, a feeling spread through you that you could not describe. 

The only word you can think of to describe this feeling is Charles.

"I didn't mean to remind you," your roommate says softly when you don't answer him. His eyes are fixed on his food. "Sorry."

You shake your head, more to let him know that your thoughts are not about your ex-boyfriend, but about Charles's kindness and care, but apparently he takes it as accepting the apology. He exhales in relief. 

"So? Are you coming with me later? With my friends and me?", Charles asks again. 

Isn't it too early to meet his friends? You two haven't known each other for very long either. But after all, you would be there as his roommate slash friend, not as his girlfriend. So for him, there's no reason why you shouldn't be there. So there is none for you either. 

"Do I need to wear anything nice? My wardrobe isn't exactly the most elegant," you confess, pointing to the oversized jumper hanging from your shoulders and the black leggings down your legs. 

Charles' gaze moves from your face, across your torso, down further to the tops of your feet, which are inches away from his. "It doesn't matter what you wear. You look beautiful in anything."

You hope he doesn't notice how hard you have to swallow the lump in your throat. "Then I'll come with you."

Satisfied, Charles puts a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews on it. As his cell phone vibrates on the table in front of you, he stiffens a little. 

From your position you can see that an unknown number is calling him. And you can well understand his reaction to it. You definitely wouldn't answer a call either if you didn't know who it was from. A short time later the phone is silent again and the screen goes black again. Charles visibly relaxes.

"I think calls from unknown numbers are totally nerve-wracking," you try to lighten the situation a little. "There was a time when I let the phone keep ringing, but now I just press unknown callers away."

Charles looks to you. "Would you press my call away?"

You draw your eyebrows together. "Well, since I don't have your number, I probably would."

Your roommate presses his tongue into his cheek. "Then it would be better if I gave it to you, no?"

Without a word, you hand him your unlocked phone - which looks really puny in his big hands - so he can punch in his number before calling himself. As he hands it back to you, he picks up his own phone to put your number in, deleting the unknown call. 

"Give me your Instagram, please."

You look at him uncertainly, but give him your name. "Do you need anything else? My credit card number? Birth certificate? National insurance number?"

"No, you dickhead." He taps away on his phone and a moment later a notification pops up on your screen. 

bawsixteen started following you

You open the app and click on his account and on the "Follow" button and a few moments later his entire profile is visible to you. He hasn't posted many pictures, some you recognise from Jori's place, but one in particular catches your eye. 

"So, tonight we're going out for dinner. Around eight, so we have to leave around around quarter to." Charles puts the empty bowl on the table and turns to you. "I have to leave in a few minutes. Will you be okay on your own until then? I don't think I'll be gone too long." 

You wonder if he's going to the woman he spoke to on the phone yesterday. "I'm an adult, Charles. I'll be fine," you smile. "Maybe by then I'll find a nice potato sack to wear later."

Charles laughs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to wash the bowl. "If you can find a second one that might fit me, bring it along. Then we could go in matching clothes. That would be something." You hear him turn on the tap at the sink. "Well, if you find one, you can call me."

"As long as you promise to answer." You turn and lean your arm over the back of the couch to watch him. His back muscles stand out under his shirt and you can see them moving. 

Charles looks over his shoulder at you and smiles. "Deal."

-

liked by joris_trouche and others

bawsixteen: 📍📸 the most beautiful place in Monaco

next part

[astonmartinii]

the student life part two | charles leclerc instagram au

part one

pairing: charles leclerc x student!reader

after an eventful visit to his girlfriend's university, charles unleashes his girlfriend and her friends on the paddock.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 12,078 others

tagged: yourbff1, yourbff2, yourbff3

yourusername: some may call it insanity, but there's no other way we'd do it

view all 2,071 comments

charles_leclerc safe flight my love

yourbff1 she's already yakked once and we've not even made it through security yet

yourusername travelators should be illegal

pierregasly y/n is coming to abu dhabi??? i'm ready for the mess

yourusername you better be ready gasly, i've not forgotten you making fun of sharl for bodybagging. it's your turn next

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yourbff1 and 505,461 others

tagged: yourusername, yourbff1

charles_leclerc: trying to spend time with y/n after two months away but there's these random people that won't leave us alone

view all 12,309 comments

yourusername they're my stray cats they have attachment issues <3

yourbff1 thanks mom (dad is an asshole)

charles_leclerc i'm not your dad???

pierregasly the way i can hear them from my room down the hall

yourusername we don't know what volume control is, my sincerest apologies

danielricciardo ahhhh the woman herself

yourusername DANIEL I LOVE YOU (go back to red bull pls)

yourbff1 added to their story

[caption: her ass does not have the reaction time to take pics of f1 cars on that dinosaur]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 20,764 others

yourusername: everyone knows the race is just a pregame for the after party - good luck tho boob @charles_leclerc

view all 3,056 comments

charles_leclerc thanks (reminder you can't drink in the garage)

yourusername i'll go cold turkey for you any day

yourbff2 real love right there

danielricciardo my liver is quaking in fear

maxverstappen1 god you're old

yourusername yes maxy that's the spirit gin and tonic on me (on charles)

charles_leclerc ummm ???

yourusername added to their story

[caption: get me a double vodka red bull STAT]

yourbff3 added to their story

[caption: celebratory scran for sharl]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 35,987 others

yourusername: camera roll finds

view all 7,031 comments

charles_leclerc don't knock the dance moves

yourusername never !!!! one of your many seduction techniques

landonorris what is this top @maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 apparel for real men

danielricciardo i'll be invoicing you for my bar tab

yourusername don't leave it open old man <3

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,089,344 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc the duality of f1. so so happy to get p2 in the championship, but of course we want to build from here. also big thank you to my wonderful girlfriend and her stray friends who killed off the rest of the grid for me (jokes) thanks for spending your whole student loan in the hospitality.

view all 119,076 comments

yourusername so so so proud of you boob, but more importantly WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER YOU DIDN'T BODYBAG

charles_leclerc thank you my love, i learnt from the best

yourusername same cannot be said for @pierregasly @landonorris @danielricciardo @carlossainz @georgerussell63 @estebanocon @mickschumacher - congrats to @maxverstappen1 @valterribottas @fernandoalonso @sebastainvettel for being big boys who can handle liqueur

sebastianvettel i don't know what this is but yes i am an old man

danielricciardo way harsh y/ln

pierregasly leave me alone my head hurts

[ltwilliammowett]

Life on board a 17th century warship

The sailing crew was divided into two watches under the two lieutenants, each working for four hours while the other rested. While off duty, they were expected to stay below decks and out of the way, but could be called to work at any time if all hands were required, such as when anchoring or making a major sail change. When below, they probably tried to sleep as much as they could, since the four-hour schedule is not natural and quickly leads to fatigue. When not sleeping, they probably used much of the time off watch to mend their clothes and shoes, but they might relax with games, music or a popular new pastime, smoking, although this was only allowed in the cookroom.

War Ships 17th Century, by Jefferys, Charles W. 1942 in: The Picture Gallery of Canadian History Volume 1, p.99

Food was also prepared in the cookroom, a brick-lined hearth in front of the mainmast in the hold, and carried up to the gundecks in buckets, where it was doled out into big wooden bowls. Depending on the ship, food could also be prepared in the galley, which was located in the forecastle or midships.

Each man had his own wooden spoon, and some had wooden plates, but most ate from the bowl shared by a mess, a group of six or seven men who ate and lived together. They drank weak beer, "ship's ale," from a shared wooden tankard. The base of the diet was salted meat for protein and dried peas and bread for carbohydrates. Barrels full of bones found in the hold show that the meat was mostly beef, with a little pork and mutton, as well as fish and poultry. Interessting fact was that some of the crew were prepared to supplement this, as fishing equipment and hunting weapons were found in shipwrecks like the Vasa, as well as the bones of roe deer, moose, and grouse. The skeletons of chickens suggest that a few fresh eggs were available.

As in other navies, they did not issue uniforms in that time, the men had to buy or make their own clothes. In some cases cloth was provided as part of their salary, but the typical sailor's clothing was the same as the clothing they arrived in from the farm or town: a linen shirt, a short, skirted woollen doublet (jacket), wool trousers that ended below the knee, woollen socks, and leather shoes. Many had broad-brimmed hats or conical caps. The cloth varied from coarse homespun to imported dyed fabrics, but almost all sailors sewed strips of contrasting cloth or even lace down the outside seams of their trousers in imitation of the clothing worn by the well-to-do. Clothes had to be hard-wearing, since most people could not afford more than one set.

The senior officers lived aft in the cabins of the sterncastle, where they had more space, glass windows, proper furniture, and ate their meals from pewter or earthenware table service. They had finer clothes, but as more than one visitor to Sweden from the continent remarked, it was difficult to tell the nobles from the peasants, since they dressed alike. The officers also had to share their accommodation, sleeping in pairs in narrow double beds, but the cabins were built to resemble the interior of houses ashore. The great cabin, where the king or an admiral would stay, was fitted out like a room in the royal palace, with fine panelling and carved sculptures that emphasised the power of the people who lived there.

The 17th century was a violent period, and both on shore and at sea brutal punishments were prescribed for even minor crimes. Conscripts often came from rough backgrounds, but discipline was essential for the smooth and safe functioning of a ship. In crowded conditions, small disagreements could easily blow up into fights, grumbling could turn to mutiny. Officers had to earn the trust of the men they commanded, but needed the option of punishment for the intractable. The articles of war specified that a person causing a fire was to be cast into the same fire, a person starting a fight was to be stabbed through the hand with a knife, blasphemers and those speaking ill of the king or his officers were to be keelhauled, murderers should be tied to their victims and thrown in the sea. In practice, a captain who had to use these punishments too often risked losing the respect of his men and his fellow captains and could not rule for long.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 8

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Also, I know way more than I intended because of comments and reblogs on previous posts, so I'm in the know now.

Kim looking at Kenta's face right before the elevator closed is the only thing keeping me from losing it. If Kentana doesn't save Kimberly, what is the point of this?! What is the point of Kentana?!

Are y'all a couple now? Y'all are starting to color and outfit coordinate, and it feels very gay.

I don't know what to do with these two.

I'm pretty sure I'm just not seeing pink on Pete, which means he has connections to the red, and Way refuses to stay blue, so I'm sure he is still planning some corrupt red nonsense.

JUST BE BLUE! Just be in love with each other. Accept his love, Waymond!

I never thought I'd write this, but be like Jeffrey, Waymond. Turn blue. Commit to the blue. Fall in love!

Look at him! No matter what connection he has to the red, he is beating the allegations. Peter is a GOOD MAN! If Waymond doesn't fall in love with him, somebody else will. Guaranteed.

Not going to read too much into that red stripe at the top of the room, but this is a red's room. Is this Kimberly's?! Why is there so much blood?!

When you take people's superpowers, yet have no idea how to use the superpowers. Apparently, Babe without superpowers is still better than everyone else. At least Charles is no longer a lying blue.

I think Big Red knows something is different with Babe, and even though Jeffrey still has that damn red bag . . . IS THAT WAYMOND?! No, Waymond, no! Do NOT work with Big Red. You have Peter RIGHT THERE! Quit your bullshit, Waymond!

WTF, Kentana?! If I have to pick between you two, I pick Peter. No contest. Kimberly, Peter, and Alan above everyone else. Kentana, you better stop it! You are still on my shit list!

Hold up! Do you two know each other? Like biblically? What is this tension? What are these looks? Why does this feel very personal? I ain't mad at it, but Kentana still needs to save Kimberly!

Jeffrey, why would you go there in that red and blue flannel shirt?! That won't save you, buddy!

Kentana, the ONLY thing that will redeem you is saving Kimberly. I didn't like Jeffrey, but now he is matching with Alan, so they are in love, and you can't break Alan's heart! You are just fucking up left and right today, and I hope you get punched in the throat before this episode is over.

KIMBERLY IS DYING! And y'all are about to have sex in the blue after tending wounds which is pointless because you have superpowers that will heal you!!!!!! Y'all continue to amaze me by the lack of priorities. Save Kim Possible!

Why is this shot in the mirror? Why is there a barrier between you two? This is odd. More lies?

Who takes a shot like that?! A KILLER! Barbara, get it together! This isn't an episode of Dead Friend Forever, and you are no longer a red.

Everything about this scene is ridiculous. Charles in blue. SONIC in blue. North and Waymond in black. AND EVERYONE IS DRINKING RED SODA! This not looking good for the blues. Whatever they are talking about, the reds already won.

Barbara continues to be touchy-feely with Waymond. Why can't he just let Waymond brood in peace? Barbara knows Waymond loves him, yet gives Waymond no space. Go tend to your boyfriend's fake injuries, Barbara! Waymond is working with Big Red and not falling in love with Peter, yet you have me feeling bad for him, Barbara. I should hate Waymond! BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE YOU WON'T LEAVE HIM BE!

These two have to be sleeping together. Cooking Crush had the Chicken Bite product placement too and Prem and Ten definitely want each other in that show, so North and Sonic have to want each other too, yes? Yes. Now why are they watching Whiny Winifred while flirting IN THE BLUE?! They finally are both wearing blue at the same time. Thank, Baby Jesus.

I was worried seeing Waymond in the red doorway, but he has Charles and Barbara. But they aren't saving Kimberly. Why does nobody care about Kimberly?!

The kid is blue. Is he the insider informant? He is a child!

Why are there so many red kids in the world? Big Red, why do you need an army?! Overthrow your shitty kidnappers with your superpowers, kids! REVOLT! Sí se puede

KIMBERLY!

North and Sonic are going to save Kimberly! They are finally in the blue and saving my favorite red! I never doubted them!

WHAT THE FUCK?! THEY DIDN'T SAVE KIMBERLY?!

Southwest Airlines and Vegas' Hedgehog did NOT save Kimberly! Kentana watched as Kimberly got taken, then had the audacity to have chemistry with Peter. Jeffrey walked right into the reds like that was gonna save him instead of saving Kimberly! Whiny Winifred kicked Kimberly. Waymond is working with Big Red and not saving Kimberly. Charles and Barbara CANNOT prioritize and are talking to a blue kid and giggling at each other instead of rescuing Kimberly.

AND BARBARA IS FIGHTING PETER NEXT WEEK!

These men need to get their shit together! The ONLY things that needed to happened this episode were 1) SAVE KIMBERLY and 2) ACCEPT PETER'S LOVE! Neither happened. Honestly, Kentana and Waymond could die and leave Kimberly and Peter to be the power couple of Alan's company. They both wear too much black, and unlike Barbara, they aren't the title character, so either commit to the blue Waymond or Kentana, or else I'm gonna start thinking y'all are disposable.

[jackhues]

this time around - angel's world

NOTE: this takes place during april/2024. if you'd like to be tagged in coming works, comment on this <3 also... i think updates on this are starting again now (maybe next part in a week idk)

this is a series/interactive au, so feel free to send in any ideas/requests/thoughts you have about this! angel's world au masterlist!!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE|| PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX - SMAU (COMING SOON)

verstappen!twin reader x mat barzal ,, f1xhockey

angel looked at the time, nervously playing with her dress.

it was almost five o'clock, which meant her dad was almost here. it'd been a few months since she began dating mathew, and besides max, no one in her family had met him.

the truth was, she was nervous.

she knew everyone would love mat, he was a great person. but her dad might not. he was a person who'd done... questionable things while raising her and her twin. and while she held no grudge against him for those things, mat wasn't his biggest fan.

angel could only hope no one caused a problem today.

"you alright?"

angel looked up at mat, a smile spreading on her face just at the sight of him.

"i'm great," she promised. "just nervous. please don't say anything about the things dad did-"

"i won't," he held her hands in his. "look, i know he wasn't a great person, and i know you're okay with the things that happened. i also know that i'm not okay with those things... but this is only the first time we're meeting. i'm not going to say anything stupid, i promise. i'll be a nice canadian boy for the night, promise."

angel smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "thank you. i know you don't like this, but it's... it's too hard explaining things to dad. he doesn't get it. so we just limit our time with him instead."

"well, it's something," mat shrugged to himself. at angel's look, he raised his hands in the air, "i'll behave. i promise."

"alright lovebirds," max entered the living room, "you ready for the biggest test of your life?"

"max," angel groaned.

"i'm joking, i'm joking," the older twin laughed. "he'll love mat, and if he doesn't, that's fine, because lewis already offered to walk you down the aisle in dad's place."

"max!" she groaned again.

"i'm just making sure everyone knows the options!" he responded.

before angel or mat could respond, the doorbell rang, casting a spell and freezing the trio in their places.

"let's hope he didn't hear that last comment," max muttered, breaking the silence. "i'll get the door."

"i'll get it," angel grabbed max's arm to hold him back.

he'd spent his entire life putting himself in their dad's view, keeping angel away from him and his anger... but they weren't little kids anymore. she could face him.

she slipped down the hallways and to the door, opening it before she could chicken out.

and there stood jos verstappen, nodding at the sight of angel. he didn't smile much, angel knew that. so the nod was his way of smiling... or at least that's what she told herself.

"hi dad," she greeted him, hugging him since she hadn't seen him in a while. "how have you been?"

"same old," her dad responded, entering her apartment and making his way to the living room. "too many races on the calendar this year, flying back and forth is hard."

angel was tempted to remind him that he didn't have to be present at every race, but she managed to keep her mouth shut.

they entered the living room together, and jos did a double take at the sight of mathew.

"this the boyfriend?" he asked simply.

"mathew barzal," mat came over to introduce himself.

jos shook his hand and introduced himself.

"here, have a seat," mathew made space for him on the couch.

max and angel exchanged a glance, slightly surprised that jos took a seat and continued the conversation.

"i never knew he was this polite," max whispered to his twin, and it took angel a second to realize he was referring to mat. "didn't he tell charles to drive his car off a cliff after he beat him at mario kart?"

"maybe it's the canadian in him," angel offered. "lance does similar things sometimes."

"it's so weird," max muttered.

"i know."

surprisingly, the rest of the night and dinner went on without a hitch, and when it was finally time for jos to leave, he even gave mat a hug. angel tensed, but mat patted his back as if the two were old friends.

"he's a good one, huh?" jos even said to angel before leaving. "i like him."

angel didn't know what to say, so she shut the door in his face.

she walked back to the living room, still trying to process her dad's words, when she noticed mat and max in deep conversation. mathew knew next to nothing about f1, and max knew next to nothing about hockey... they were from two different worlds.

and yet, they sat in angel's living room, conversing as if they'd known each other for years, as if they were friends who simply enjoyed each other's company.

and with a start, angel realized that she did indeed, choose a good one this time around.

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter two

Words: 3902 Warnings: google-translated italian, more mentions of alcohol, poor writing, me not knowing how the ferrari factory works A/N: alright so this has been long overdue so i apologize for that. also, i haven't been to maranello so everything i mention is basically from google maps. everything about the publishing industry i got from a random blog so just to be safe, don't trust anything i say about it ♥️ A/N (II): italics are phone calls, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location, and (parenthesis) the translation for the Italian ;) Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter

Chapter two

Maranello, December 2nd, 2022

‘Wait, wait, wait, so then you’re attending the races?’

‘Yep.’

‘And you’re getting double passes if you ask for them?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘And you know you’re my favorite daughter?’

‘I’m your only daughter.’

‘Still.’

‘I’ll take you to Monaco.’

‘Dio, ti amo.’ (God, I love you)

‘Of course, you do,’ I giggled at my dad.

‘And how’s the trip so far?’

‘It’s… fine, I guess,’ I cringed, looking out the window.

The only sight I could catch from my balcony was the Ferrari factory in the distance, and the hotel’s parking lot on the other side. The views I had caught from the car ride from Bologna’s airport had been beautiful, but we hadn’t had any time to stop to look around.

‘Just fine?’ my dad wondered.

‘It’s not a holiday, papà, I’m technically working,’ I said with a sigh. 

I walked back and dropped on my bed, staring at the fancy ceiling of my hotel room. Although the flight to Bologna had been short, the lunch with Maurizio Arrivabene had been exhausting. Too many bottles of wine and too little discussion about the job, besides the promise of all the paddock access we wanted, as well as the finest wine bottles per Mr. Williamson’s request.

‘Still, you’re going to the track tomorrow, right?’ my dad asked again.

I moved my phone to my other ear, gently rubbing the sore nub after almost an hour of my dad’s nonstop gushing.

‘Yeah.’

‘What time?’

‘We get there at 11 am, I think. I don’t know if the tour will be before or after the meeting with the execs, though,’ I bit my lip, checking the time on my wristwatch.

‘Mio dio, everything is so early here compared to home,’ my dad groaned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. (My God)

‘Well, not my fault you moved to London for love,’ I answered back.

‘Now you have to move to Italy in return so that we can complete the circle.’

‘Dad!’ I laughed loudly, despite my hand covering my mouth. It was a bit early in the evening, but I knew several guests at the hotel would not appreciate my yelling. ‘Alright, I’ll take you up on that.’

‘You better, chicken pie.’

‘Anyways, I think I’m gonna go. I’m actually exhausted.’

‘Too many emotions today?’

‘Yeah, and I gotta be up early for tomorrow.’

‘Wasn’t the meeting at 11 am?’

I frowned. ‘Yeah. But I still need to finish editing a couple of manuscripts. Do you happen to know anything about the types and uses of the cross symbol in Ethiopian religion?’

My dad took a couple of seconds to answer. ‘... No?’

‘Yeah, me either. Gotta learn a bunch of stuff for tomorrow.’

‘Well, call me when you know something.’

‘Will do,’ I laughed softly. ‘Buona notte, papà. Ti amo.’ (Goodnight, Dad, I love you.)

‘Ti amo di più, Principessa,’ with that, our conversation ended. (I love you more, princess.)

I stayed sprawled on my bed after throwing my phone on the comforter, closing my eyes for a few seconds. I knew I still had to unpack some clothes for tomorrow, recharge my laptop and work on the manuscripts, order dinner, make sure Mr. Williamson got the entire schedule right for the rest of the trip, eat dinner, and get a decent amount of sleep for the following day’s events. Despite my nerves, exhaustion was getting the best of me, and as soon as I felt myself drifting off, I willed my eyelids to open and my legs to move, standing up with a groan at my tired muscles. 

A couple of hours later I was already in bed, my fingers expertly typing away while my eyes begged me to finally close them and sleep. My laptop felt hot on my legs even over the sheets, but I couldn’t stop. Deadlines were approaching, and even though I willingly signed up for the trip, I still found the huge workload that still needed to be done frankly overwhelming, especially since I was working double during Mr. Williamson’s secret and unauthorized gap year. With a sigh, I kept typing until my eyes closed on their own accord. 

I didn’t even know at what time I fell asleep. It only felt like a few minutes until my phone was blasting the alarm as loud as possible. I carelessly reached for it with my eyes closed, hoping my fingers would find it early enough to turn the horrible sound off, but I only managed to slightly push the laptop away. Opening my eyes in a panic, I sighed in relief when I found no crack on the screen, the object still on my bed and not broken on the floor, but the alarm kept going, and not only that, but the hotel phone on my bedside table was also now ringing loudly.

Despite feeling like crying at that very moment, for not only was I not a morning person, but the extreme trauma of waking up mixed with the incessant noise coming from both sides of my bed was enough to almost send me into cardiac arrest. Grabbing my phone and quickly pressing the orange alert, I answered the call.

‘Hello?’ I asked, a yawn escaping my lips as I waited for the answer.

‘Good morning, Miss, this is Francesco speaking, from the front desk. Yesterday you asked us to please wake you up at 7 am,’ the worker spoke in perfect English.

I frowned, not remembering at all having done that, but then again, I didn’t remember most of the evening once I tried to recall how I fell asleep.

‘Oh, grazie, Francesco,’ I replied with another yawn. (Thank you.)

‘Would you like to have your complimentary breakfast sent to your room?’

I paused, enjoying the sound of that. ‘Sure, why not. What were the options, then?’

And that’s how I found myself having breakfast on the balcony, overlooking the blue horizon thanks to the lack of tall buildings around the hotel. I certainly missed the sky back in my London apartment, and it almost felt weird to have the sun shining so brightly on me so late in the year, but nonetheless, it brought some color to my cheeks as I feasted on the delicious biscuits I was offered. I allowed myself to calm down and enjoy the food, forgetting about my job and the likely still sleeping Mr. Williamson on the other side of the wall. As I waited for the breakfast to be brought, I had already taken a shower and gotten ready for the day and was simply enjoying the rather quiet life that the hotel’s location could offer. I did miss the people and the nightlife, but I already got a lot of it in London. 

Taking slow sips of my coffee, I finally got my phone out. I took a couple of pictures to send my mom, knowing she would be calling me in no time to check up on me and make sure I hadn’t caught a bug while I slept. Switching to Instagram, Alec’s face was the first thing that showed up. He had posted a video singing a new song, but I couldn’t will myself to listen to it just yet. His music was what brought us together in the first place, and for weeks I hadn’t been able to listen to his voice again. It was just too painful. 

‘Did you listen to his new song?’ I quickly texted Angela.

‘You won’t like it, though,’ she quickly responded.

I bit my lip. ‘Is it about me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is it bad?’ my fingers trembled slightly as I typed, suddenly feeling nervous.

‘I mean, it’s not good.’

‘You’re so helpful,’ I groaned, shivering slightly all of a sudden. 

A cloud had passed directly over the sun, taking the warmth with it. I stood up and walked back inside.

‘Text me when you listen to it. But wait until you’re back in London.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t let it ruin your trip.’

‘Alright,’ I sighed and ended the conversation.

I shook my arms slightly, trying to find some physical way to let go of those thoughts, and swiftly got my laptop and sat down on the small desk by the window, and typed away my anxiety. 

I wasn’t a big fan of editing manuscripts, especially those about subjects I completely abhorred, but in the grand scheme of things, it somehow helped to leave my mind completely blank, making the time pass by even faster.

Before I knew it, it was 9:45 am. Another alarm went off, and with a final sigh, I saved my progress, put on some shoes, and left my room, only to go to the next door and promptly open the door with Mr. Williamson’s extra card. 

The sight did not surprise me in the slightest. He was still fast asleep on his bed, with the covers half-dangling from the sides and the mini bar half-empty. The room was completely dark save for the light coming from the open door.

I had to take a big deep breath before closing the door behind me and walking decisively towards the blinds, opening them wide, as well as his own balcony’s door, not even caring that the cold and wind could potentially make him sick. I was beyond the point of caring about his health when he clearly didn’t care about his.

‘Rise and shine, Stephen,’ I clapped loudly.

Mr. Williamson woke up with a start, groaning loudly.

‘It’s too early,’ he mumbled, flipping on the bed and pulling the covers over his head.

‘Hell, no,’ I said, grabbing the sheets and pulling them off from his body completely. ‘You’ve got an hour before the car arrives, so chop chop!’ I said as I opened his suitcase and started taking his belongings out, looking for some decent clothes. 

The night before coming to Italy, I had forced him to send me a picture of his luggage, knowing that, if it were up to him, he would show up in Crocs and Bermudas. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a meeting with him dressed like that.

Thankfully, Mr. Williamson listened to me and sat down in bed, still half-asleep, but at least I could work with that. I threw him his toilet bag.

‘Take a shower, God, you stink,’ I complained, grabbing him from one of his arms and pulling him up. 

I slightly pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, and he followed without another word. 

‘If you don’t come out in ten minutes, I’m getting in. And I’ll bring my phone!’ I warned him, hoping the warning would be enough for me not to see him naked. 

‘Jesus, you sound like my wife,’ he mumbled just before closing the door behind him. 

I looked around his room, and opted for taking the remaining alcohol from the mini bar with me, just to be safe. Even though the bottles were tiny, I didn’t trust my boss to somehow get wasted. I wasn’t about to risk my job and my career, especially in a foreign country. Out of habit, I checked my emails again, hoping to see Rosanna’s name somewhere with a publishing vacancy, but as usual, no new emails had been sent since that morning. 

My feet moved by themselves across Mr. Williamson’s room, putting his clothes on the bed, and even going as far as to call some room service for him. I was hoping the sleep and the shower would sober him up because I was anxious as hell about the meeting.

Not only was I a huge sports car fan, but the fact that we had been invited by Piero Ferrari himself to visit the factory, which I could now see from my room, and talk to all those developers who worked there with the same passion my father and I had, was completely mind-blowing. And I didn’t want anything to screw it up.

—

‘So that’s our proposal. Ink’n’Paper and Scuderia Ferrari, together, writing about the history and fame of our car. And we want you, Stephen, to write it,’ Benedetto Vigna finished his speech with a looming voice, staring directly at my boss with a light smirk.

Ferrari’s own CEO had welcomed us into the factory, walking us through the many impressive facilities, and showing us every detail of the place. To say I was awestruck would be an understatement. The museum was absolutely incredible, and the curators had even allowed me to take dozens of videos to send to my dad, which I knew was probably screaming and crying at the sight of them. 

The meeting had started an hour later under the pretext of getting down to business as soon as possible and with the promise of trying the Driving Simulator after lunch.

‘Well, certainly, I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming,’ Mr. Williamson replied, taking his glasses off. ‘And how were you thinking about doing this, Benedetto?’

‘We had a couple of ideas in mind, but I think it’ll be easier right now if you stay in Monaco with the team.’

‘Monaco?’ I blurted. ‘Sorry,’ I apologized in embarrassment, but thankfully Mr. Vigna didn’t seem to care.

‘It’s alright. No, we’re opening a new office in Monaco for the new season, and given that it’s certainly closer to Maranello than London, we think that the writing would be faster.’

‘What deadlines are we talking about here, then?’ Mr. Williamson asked.

Not an ounce of alcohol was in his system, at least that I knew of, and he was magically back to being the professional editor I had known him to be what felt like an eternity ago.

Mr. Vigna looked at his colleagues, all of them nodding amongst themselves. ‘Hopefully, we could have it by the winter break. You know, from a marketing point of view, every Ferrari fan out there would be definitely getting it for Christmas.’

Mr. Williamson took a sip of his espresso, carefully considering his options. Then, he looked at me. ‘What do you think?’

I widened my eyes. ‘Me?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, you. You also work here, I want to know what you think.’

Any thought left my mind as soon as he said those words. Despite being used to taking over his meetings due to his many inebriated states, I was feeling rather intimidated by the situation. And, unlike Mr. Williamson, I had never published anything before.

‘Well, uh, technically December is a bit of a dead zone in the publishing industry.’

I spoke with a low voice, feeling anxious about debunking Mr. Vigna’s theory.

‘Is that so?’ he asked, but his tone was more curious than annoyed. 

That only encouraged me further. ‘Yeah. It’s usually September when we get all the workload. December kinds of get those less-interesting manuscripts from the bottom of the submissions box, and many workers just leave on vacation. We usually just… publish more volumes of the already best-selling ones, because those are the ones that get sold. The marketing would have to be insane if we want this book to make figures on Christmas.’

My comment was met with utter silence. I stared at all the people in the room, silently hoping for someone to talk because the embarrassment was already too high.

Mr. Williamson gratefully came to my aid, as weird as it sounded.

‘She’s right,’ he said, taking one final sip. ‘Either we push the deadline forward to September, or we spend a couple of millions on the marketing.’

Mr. Vigna seemed to consider our words after that. ‘Right, I certainly didn’t know that. Won’t September be too much of a short time for you?’ he looked back at Mr. Williamson, who quickly shook his head.

‘I don’t see why it’d be a problem. As long as we start as early as possible and are provided with all the materials we need…’ he looked up in deep thought.

‘And what do you need?’ one of the women at the other end of the desk spoke, pen already in hand, waiting to write anything down.

‘Certainly, we need access to any source of information about Ferrari. Whether is it the cars, the history, even the drivers, literally anything with the word “Ferrari” in it,’ he spoke. ‘Now, I got a tight schedule when writing biographies, and I need at least two months just to do the research. After that, the writing comes smoothly.’

‘Don’t forget the editing…’ I whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He waved me off. ‘It will take some time, though. You know I’m not that much of a Formula 1 enthusiast. I much rather prefer cricket,’ he said, standing up from his chair and buttoning his shirt.

With his clean suit and combed hair, he looked unrecognizable from the man I had found in his bed that morning. He looked put-together for the first time in months, and it brought me back to the first meetings of my internship, where everything he did was graceful and calculated. I felt oddly safe for the first time in months, knowing that, no matter how the meeting went, I had Mr. Williamson to guide us through the rubble and exit the building with an even straighter back and untouched dignity. I so wished every day at work felt the same.

‘But my assistant over here is, in fact, a remarkable connoisseur of the sport. What did you call it? Tifosi?’ he quickly looked at me, looking for confirmation. ‘She’s half Italian, in fact. I might have to delegate some of the work to her.’

I widened my eyes even more, his words leaving a huge pit in my stomach. My head felt suddenly numb, and my pulse increased as I recited his intentions.

‘In that case, Stephen, if you trust her to do the job, so do we. Obviously, if she agrees.’

I felt more eyes on me, and I gulped. I nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I do.’

Benedetto Vigna smiled and brought his palms together. ‘Great! I’m sure you’ll be fine in Monaco,’ he stood up from his chair, signaling everybody to do the same. 

Mr. Williamson offered me his arm, given I was still in shock at Mr. Vigna’s words. Everybody started filing out.

‘Wait, what?’ I asked no one in particular.

‘I guess you’re going to Monaco,’ Mr. Williamson said as he lightly pushed me out of the room, pretty much in the same way I had done that morning to get him in the shower.

‘But… what about work?’

He frowned at me. ‘This is work.’

I didn’t have time to reply, for Mr. Vigna’s loud voice reverberated around the hall.

‘Now, I believed I promised you lunch and a Fiorano tour. Oh, and the Driving Simulator, too.’

—

Despite being a huge Formula 1 fan, I had never been to a race track. The only person I really wanted to attend a race with was my dad, and he was always a bit too busy, and the tickets were always a bit too expensive. Not coming from a large income family had definitely shut a few dreams down, hence why I had immediately started crying at the sight of the Fiorano track, where Ferrari tested their cars. Even though it was empty, the sheer sight of the huge lane was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Thankfully, the sun was shining down on us, and my eyes were hidden by my sunglasses, but I knew my face would soon become a bit too red for other people to notice.

Lunch had been fine, yet I was still thinking about Mr. Vigna’s words. Not only was I part of the project, but I had also been tasked with recollecting all information about the red Scuderia and its cars and history, all of it while I lived by myself in Monaco. I was dreading the conversation with my parents, knowing my mom would definitely not approve, as well as the high chances of me getting homesick as soon as I arrived at the small principality. 

But then again, maybe getting some time away from my life in London would do me good. Away from work, and Mr. Williamson, and Alec. I didn’t want to be the type of person that fled the country when they broke up with their partner, but I also knew that distance was my biggest ally at the time. I wasn’t completely sure how Mr. Williamson was gonna manage on his own while I lived elsewhere, but the thought of a quiet life for a few months in the quaint country was becoming more appealing by the second. 

I completely tuned out Mr. Vigna’s speech about the dimensions and characteristics of the track (not that I needed them, my father had made sure from a young age that I knew my blood was Ferrari red and Tifosi my middle name, although it certainly never was and it got us a very weird meeting with my elementary school headmaster after having written Tifosi as my middle name on several exams). If I had been paying more attention, I certainly would’ve noticed two familiar figures dressed in red polos walking toward us.

‘Charles! Carlos! Che bello che sei venuto!’ Mr. Vigna signaled the two men forward, and they quickly introduced themselves. (How nice that you came!)

‘¡Hola! Sono Carlos,’ Carlos Sainz Jr. extended his hand towards Mr. Williamson. (Hi! I’m Carlos.)

‘Nice to meet you,’ replied my boss, shaking his hand.

‘Hi,’ I smiled at him, trying to contain the excitement.

‘Hello,’ he gave me two kisses on both cheeks, and I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips. 

‘Sorry, I’m a big fan,’ my face felt even warmer, but I still didn’t take my sunglasses off, the big black crystals at least hiding part of my cheeks.

Carlos laughed. ‘It’s alright, usually everyone that comes to Fiorano is,’ he winked, and moved aside.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t have favorites. I would also be lying if I said Charles Leclerc wasn’t one of them.

The slightly taller man stood right in front of me, smiling brightly. His head blocked the sun, allowing me to look at him in more detail as the rays fell around him, giving him an even bigger heavenly glow.

‘Ciao, I’m Charles,’ he too pressed two soft kisses on my cheeks, and I swear my heart stopped for a second when he came closer. (Hi.)

I took off my glasses and quickly introduced myself, hoping I didn’t sound like a lunatic gushing over her biggest celebrity crush standing right in front of her.

‘Ragazzi, l'intervistatore vi sta aspettando,’ a shorter woman came up behind the two drivers with a stressed look on her face. (Guys, the interviewer’s waiting for you.)

I frowned slightly, having the meeting cut short, but in hindsight, my heart was beating loudly in my ribcage out of nerves, and I didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of myself by standing there completely starstruck. 

They sadly left our group with a warm goodbye, and the rest of the day passed in a blur. 

Next thing I knew, I was on my bed, staring at the ceiling, failing to fall asleep due to the image of a pair of green eyes glistening in the sun embedded in my mind.

Next chapter

General taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

[notf1obsessed]

A Little Flirting Hurt No One (Charlos): you can find the full fic on here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55395409

Chapter 8: Double Date

Charles: Pierre i think I fucked up

Pierre: tf u did this time

Charles: agreeing to be Carlos's fake boyfriend

Pierre: yeah mate u fucked up big time

Charles: SO?

Pierre: what u want me to do

Charles: HELP ME?

Pierre: I'm not a therapist Charles

Charles: va te faire foutre

Charles slammed his phone down in frustration.

Looks like he's on his own for this one

It was the Monday after the Grand Prix and most of the drivers were still here.

Time to get things moving; the faster he makes Lando admit his feelings to Carlos the less he has to be his boyfriend.

And what better way to do that than a double date.

He picked his phone.

Charles: hey mate, wanna go out today

Lando: sure what time

Charles: dinner would be good

Charles: i was wondering though, how about u bring Oscar

Lando: why

Charles: well i mean u two are dating

Lando: HOW

Charles: Carlos told me

Lando: u and Carlos don't even talk

Charles: were dating

Lando: lol imagine

Charles: I'm serious Lando

Lando: WAIT ACTUALLY

Charles: yes now r u bringin Oscar or should i call of the double date

Lando: fine yeah sure

Charles: k I'll text u the address

Please don't be a dumb idea.

He goes to text yet another person.

He really is on a texting spree.

Charles: mate so this may be the best or worst idea I've ever come up with

Carlos: what did u do

Charles: i made plans for a double date with lando and Oscar

Carlos: u made plans with the person I'm hopelessly in love with it

Charles: I know but it's the best way for him to realize how much he likes u

Charles: the problem is acting like a couple tho

Carlos: leave it to me I'm an expert at flirting

Charles rolled his eyes at the message.

Charles: I'll come pick u up at 7, k

Carlos: okay see u mon camiro

His eyes dart to the time

3:54

He decides to play a game to pass the time.

——————————————

After a couple of rounds, it was 6 and he needed to get ready.

He quickly sent Lando the address before hopping in the shower.

He decided on wearing his most flattering clothes (the sluttiest) so that Lando could really see who he was missing Carlos out on.

That fit being a white button up, keeping the first 2 open and a pair of jeans.

He decided he'd keep his silly jeans for another day.

He quickly styled his hair before checking Carlos's room number. On the same floor, better for me.

He knocked twice on the door before it opened.

Carlos was wearing a white vest with a button up shirt over it, all undone and a pair of denim jeans.

His hair was damp from the shower, Charles had never seen him so dressed up before.

And he would be lying if he said he didn't look hot.

"Ready to go, mon amour?"

"Yes mi querido"

——————————————————

They arrived at the place at exactly 7. The traffic was a pain in the ass so it took them about 30 minutes to arrive.

The restaurant was dimly lit, candles and roses at every table.

A bit too romantic for the occasion.

Beautiful paintings hung on the walls, the ceramic floors blinding whoever steps on them.

Their eyes searched the restaurant for Lando and Oscar.

Lando was endlessly conversing, or rather telling, with Oscar. Upon noticing them, he quickly gestured over to the table, "Over here!"

Charles grabbed Carlos's hand, who didn't protest, to take them over.

They sat in front of them, Lando facing Charles and Oscar facing Carlos.

It was safe to say that Oscar and Carlos were unhappy with this arrangement.

Especially after their on track banter.

The silence was most definitely not awkward; so of course Carlos wasn't thankful when the waiter came.

Lando being the picky eater he is, ordered chicken nuggets.

Oscar ordered the shrimp; specifically because Lando would try and steal his food later and he hates seafood

Carlos ordered the grilled chicken, and Charles being the basic bitch he is, ordered pasta.

"So when did you two start dating?" asksed Lando with a mouth full of chicken.

"Recently actually," replied Charles, not wanting to say they started fake dating a week ago, "how about you two?"

"Last season actually, around October."

Charles picked up on the hurt in Carlos's eyes.

He dropped his hand to grip Carlos's, trying to comfort him.

And also keep up the illusion.

It must've worked because he felt Carlos relax into the touch.

At this point, Carlos had gotten fed up with all the small talk and decided to take things a step further.

A little more dangerous.

He wore a smug smile, "Here try this mon carino"

Charles tried to grab his fork but Carlos shook his head.

He lifted the fork up to Charles's mouth and slowly fed him, making sure he savored every moment of it.

Both Lando and Oscar looked very taken back, but neither Carlos nor Charles payed any attention to it.

Taking the fork out of his mouth, he lent into his ear, a seductive tone coating his lips.

"So what do you think, amor?"

[annefic]

Ok so

I made that devilled pheasant recipe that was reported to be Anne's favorite in the issue of Country Life she guest edited (but with chicken rather than pheasant as it's a difficult bird to find around here out of season and expensive any time of year, and I didn't want to waste "shipping it in" money on something I might not even like)

Some thoughts:

I kinda had to guess my way through this because the recipe is super vague. No oven temperatures, very little indication of how long things should be allowed to cook, and based on the video I'm pretty sure the British are working with rather different definitions of "casserole" and "tender" than we are in the US

The spices the bird is boiled in smell divine by themselves, and I've saved the stock because I think it will make a great soup base. I about quintupled the garlic used because northern European recipes and especially British ones never use enough garlic. "One clove" is either a joke or like. Eating whole like a candy once it's dried or roasted amounts, not flavoring a dish to feed four amounts. I used three and also rubbed the meat in garlic powder before I did anything else with the recipe.

By the same token, I think it would materially improve the outcome if the meat were dry rubbed in all the spices (+extra garlic) and allowed to soak them in overnight before beginning the cooking process.

Included in the vagueness - it didn't say whether to keep or chuck the carrot and onions when you drain the meat. I chose to keep and I'm glad I did; the carrot in particular adds a lot to the final product

The only double cream available here comes already stiff... Not paying 15 fucking dollars for enough to have a full metric cup so I used one 6 oz jar and made up the difference with heavy whipping cream. They blended together quickly and easily.

The mango chutney-whipped cream-worcestershire mix used to dress it is... It tastes. It's very fruity and very strong. I think it would be more enjoyable if stood up against the gamey flavor of a pheasant; as it is it's very rich and rather overpowering. Definitely better evenly mixed in rather than slopped on top as the recipe asks, and I think it could stand either more heat or more time in the oven once the meat and cream are added together. (Due to the lack of a temperature in either real or fake units I assumed they meant to heat it in what Americans would call a "warm oven" - 175 to 200°F, not enough for further cooking to really occur just enough to get everything to a warm temperature.)

Overall thoughts: It's more positive than negative for me, but I don't think this is going to be the kind of dish just anyone would instantly fall in love with after the first bite. It's a very unique taste and uses fruit in a way I don't normally see it used with poultry. As I said already, I think the gamier taste of pheasant would probably help this considerably but I don't think that alone is going to make it a perennial favorite. The pheasant crumble pie in the issue Charles guest edited seems to have a more traditional flavor profile and I think that would fall more along my lines of preference - perhaps I shall make it later.

Uhhh, I don't know how to end this soooo

Bird

Frankly, it also looks more appealing mixed together. This has none of the darker more vibrant oranges showing in the picture of the finished dish on the website which is another reason I'm suspicious I didn't get the right idea of what "heat it in the oven for 10 minutes" was actually supposed to mean

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Charles and Lando come to your apartment for the thank you dinner as promised. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual tension, alcohol, touching? WC: 2.4k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four

Black smoke billowed out of the pan you thought you had turned off and you rushed to toss it in the sink before opening a window. The breeze was a moment too late to clear the air of the dark tendrils snaking higher and they soon reached the smoke detector, the piercing sound of its alarm filling your kitchen. 

“Shit,” you cursed as you tried to jump and hit the detector to shut it off but you were just too short. “Double shit.”

A knock sounded at your door and you threw it open, grabbing whoevers hand it was and dragging them inside. “Thank god, hit that fucking thing for me will you?” you asked, realising it was Charles who had arrived on time, unsurprisingly.

His nose wrinkled at the heavy stench of smoke and he rose onto his toes to reach up and turn off the alarm. “You look like you have been, um…creative.”

You smiled at the attempt of a compliment before laughing at the situation. In the cold pan on the stove were the chicken breasts that were meant to be frying and you slapped your forehead as you realised you had turned the wrong element on. “Looks like we are going out to dinner, which is probably safer. I don’t think I could have kept my promise not to give you food poisoning by the looks of it.”

“I’m not dressed to go out,” he said as he looked down at his polo and chinos.

“Are you kidding me? You look like a damn model.”

“Thanks. It’s not easy being this handsome,” Lando said as he walked in the front door that was still open, a bottle of wine in his hands. “I see your cooking skills are as good as mine.”

“Har-har,” you drawled as you reached into the cupboards and got three wine stems out. “Liquid dinner it is.”

“Haven’t you sworn off drinking?” Charles asked as he rummaged around your cutlery drawers, finding the corkscrew for Lando.

“Pfft, that was just for summer break to stop the PR team from riding my ass,” you said with a grin. “Plus, you two won’t let me get into trouble. At least not too much.”

The cork popped open and Charles took the bottle from Lando to read the label. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” he laughed as he handed the Prosecco back. 

“What?” Lando asked with a frown as he turned it around to see the label. “The lady at the shop said this was good.”

“Sure, for an afternoon at the beach, but it won’t get you drunk.”

You took the bottle from his hands and kissed his cheek to erase the pout on his face. “It is the perfect starter course, and my bar is fully stocked with the hard stuff.”

“No,” Charles sighed as he took the bottle and poured three drinks. “I’m sure there is something salvageable to eat. No drinking on an empty stomach.”

You raised your glass to him. “I wish you luck, my kitchen is cursed.”

He tapped his glass with yours and winked. “I’m a miracle worker, watch me.”

You sat with Lando at the kitchen table as he showed you some photos he had taken throughout the year that hadn’t been posted online, keeping you entertained with stories that would get him in trouble if they ever got out. Every now and then you would check on Charles who familiarised himself with your kitchen, opening and closing all the cupboards and drawers before sighing.

“Admit defeat yet?”

His green eyes narrowed at you from across the room. “Never. I just can’t find any- of nevermind. What is this monstrosity?” He pulled a large jar out of the fridge and grimaced at the sight. 

“Crushed garlic,” you said obviously but he grew even more offended by the jar as he held it at arms length away.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered as he opened the lid and sniffed it. “It will do, I suppose.”

“What are you cooking?” Lando asked as he saw the ingredients lined up on the bench.

“Chicken pesto pasta.” He didn’t even look up as he sliced some limes up, muttering that lemons would have been better. 

“See, this is what I was looking for,” you said to Lando as you rested your chin on your hand watching Charles navigate the kitchen comfortably. “He cooks for me, you did my laundry, you’re both good looking and funny. That’s what I need from a man, I need the love child of Charlando. I give up. It’s impossible. I’m never going to find that.”

“Okay, this definitely isn’t going to be enough,” Lando said as he took the almost empty glass from your hand and rose from the chair. You and Charles both watched him cross over to the wet bar and tap his fingers along his lips as he debated what spirits to choose. “We need to cheer you up, I’m thinking tequila sunrise or strawberry daiquiri?”

“And music,” Charles added as he diced an onion that had been hiding at the back of your refrigerator for who knows how long. “Not mine, because it’s all depressing.”

“So music and drinks…why don’t we just go out?”

Neither looked happy at your suggestion and they both shook their heads. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture from your brother,” Lando admitted.

Lando plugged his phone into your stereo and some soft pop song started to play in the background as Charles said, “And it's too loud to talk in a club. This is nice, no?”

“I guess the company is half decent,” you teased.

Charles chuckled and beckoned you over with a curl of his finger that had a dollop of creamy pesto sauce on the end. “Taste test.”

Your stomach clenched as you parted your lips for him and his eyes held yours, the moment too intimate to dare break. His lips parted with a silent sigh when your tongue rolled over the pad of his finger, and he took a harsh breath as your lips sealed around it and sucked it clean. 

“Hmmm,” you moaned as the flavours coated your tongue and you pulled back, licking your lips as you did. “Oh my god, Charles, that is delicious.”

You couldn’t help noticing how the green of his eyes had been swallowed by his blown pupils or the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed twice before he could muster a response. “Now that I’ve seen your cooking, I’m sure everything else tastes delicious.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said with a laugh as your attention was pulled away and a shot glass was placed into your hand. “I thought we were having cocktails?”

“We will, but,” Lando said as he reached past Charles to grab the salt before he sprinkled a line across his hand. “Tequila first, sunrise later.” He grabbed a wedge of lime next and pinched it between his teeth with a daring curl of his eyebrow. 

The food was forgotten as Charles watched you wrapped your fingers around Lando’s wrist before running your tongue across his skin. The grains of salt coated your tongue as you raised the glass to your lips and tipped the liquor back under their heated stares. You swallowed the liquor and inhaled the fiery burn that followed as you eyed up lime waiting between Lando’s lips. 

This moment balanced on a knife's edge and you could feel how influential it could be on making or breaking the friendship you had with both Lando and Charles. This was the line in the sand that once you crossed there could be no return.

No one dared to breathe. No one dared to move. 

They were waiting for you. 

You licked your lips of the salty spirit residue and stepped closer to him. Your fingers trailed up his neck to tease the short hairs on his nape as you pulled his head down to meet yours and you bit the lime, tearing it from his lips as the sour juice ran down your chin.

“You’re a bad influence,” you teased as you wiped away the excess and stepped back. 

The tension in the air evaporated with his proud grin and Charles chuckled as he turned back to the pan before it burned for a second time.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he replied innocently.

He made his way back to the wet bar with a little dance that had you laughing again. “It’s working.”

The sunset made the perfect backdrop over Monte-Carlo as you stepped out onto the balcony with a plate in each hand and placed them on the small square table. The music drifted out from the french doors after Lando queued enough songs to last the night and joined you and Charles with the extra strong drinks he had made.

“We should do this more often,” you said as a calm settled within you and you watched the yachts dotting the sea beyond the marina.

“What should we toast to?” Lando asked as he placed your glass in front of you, the cocktail matching the orange skyline.

“Single life?” you offered, earning a snort from him as he dropped into the seat beside you, mirroring Charles on the other side.

“How about the hunt?” Charles joked and you groaned at the reminder. “Since we are all looking for love now.”

“Not me,” you surprised them. “I’ve deleted every dating app from my phone and given up. I might even get a cat to keep me company.”

“I thought ‘a girl had needs’?” Lando teased with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Nothing a little self love can’t take care of,” you muttered to your drink as you took a sip, making Charles choke on his. “What? It’s true. You can’t tell me that you don't use your hand out when you need it.”

“We definitely need to do this more often,” Lando chuckled as he spared a fork full of extremely overcooked pasta. 

Charles sent a grin across the table to Lando before their eyes turned to you, a mischievous glint reflecting in both pairs as Charles agreed with a nod. 

“Then let’s cheers to that,” you said as you raised your glass. 

“To the three of us,” Charles winked, clinking your glasses.

“The three of us.”

The empty plates were neatly stacked and the last rays of light had long disappeared, but you weren’t ready for the night to be over. The air was growing cold and the fading solar lights dotted around the deck were starting to attract bugs, interrupting the peaceful lull in conversation. 

“Do you want to stay and watch a movie? You probably shouldn’t drive anyway.” You hoped your question didn’t sound too eager and tried to cover it up with the logical statement. It was needless though as they both perked up at the offer and started to clear the table.

“I’m up for a movie night,” Lando agreed as he took the glasses, leaving Charles to take the plates. “Another round?”

 “Yes, please. I’ll meet you on the couch.” 

You went to your room and changed out of the jeans and top you were wearing, opting for an oversized white AlphaTauri shirt you often slept in instead, before dragging the quilt off your bed. You switched the lights off around the apartment as you passed them and flopped down onto the couch between the two men who had been quietly chatting. Lando reached for the refilled glasses on the coffee table and handed you yours as you asked, “What are we watching?”

“Nothing sad or Charles will cry,” he said with a little laugh as he helped spread the blanket over everyone.

“And nothing with shooting or Lando will cry,” Charles shot back with his own teasing smirk.

“And nothing with romance or I will cry,” you added as you swiped up the remote and scrolled through the options on Netflix. “Guess that leaves horror. Paranormal Activity?”

You wanted to look away but you couldn’t as the crackling image on the screen only grew darker. You knew what was coming but it still didn’t stop the squeak that escaped your lips or the way your tense body startled at the jump scare.

The guys chuckled as if you hadn’t felt their legs knock yours at the sudden slam of a door and the blanket shifted until you felt a comforting hand on each thigh, resting just below the hem of the shirt. It took everything in you to keep still as their palms warmed your skin and the heat spread to your core and you felt Charles’ thumb start to draw soothing circles.

Under the guise of settling back into your skin after the fright, you laid back into the cushions and stretched your legs out. From the corner of your eye you could see Lando bite his lip as the shift left their hands even higher up your thighs, almost brushing the lace edge of your panties.

“Scared, chérie?” Charles asked, his voice a little deeper than usual.

It wasn’t the horror movie that was causing a fine tremor to work its way over your body, setting every nerve ending alight. And it certainly wasn’t the horror movie that was causing the goosebumps to tingle across your skin. 

It had been a long time since a man came so close to you that your core was turning to molten lava without even being touched and you lost the battle to remain still, your thighs clenching together in search of friction. You could feel a second heartbeat throbbing between the juncture and as the blanket slipped down your body your peaked nipples were easy to spot through the thin material. 

“Not exactly,” you uttered as Lando’s fingers squeezed your thigh, almost as if he were silently begging you to part them for him. 

“You’re shaking,” Lando murmured close to your ear. 

“I know,” you whispered as your throat clogged with the pleas for them to touch you, to slide their hands just another inch higher and sate the need your body craved. 

You felt the touch of Charles’ shaped beard along your jaw before his lips brushed your ear. “Breathe, chérie. We’ll take care of you.”

His thumb drew another circle and your chest expanded with the softest gasp as you felt the pad of his digit run along the seam of your underwear. 

Lando mirrored his friend, his breath hot on your neck where his lips set a trail of scorching fire to your ear. “Will you let us take care of you?”

Click here for part two.

Tagging: @destourtereaux @severerebelearthquake @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @secretlyangrymagazine

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hello! If I may, could I make a request of Snake, Cheslock, double Charles, and the triplets with a s/o who's selectively mute, but doesn't mind talking to them (the boys) because they feel comfortable with them? But also, they happen to own a macaw, and let's just say that the bird certainly has the mouth of a sailor and is not afraid to cuss out any strangers who try to bother the s/o lmao 💀 Like, the bird is the cutest thing ever and is affectionate towards the people it knows, but if you look at its owner the wrong way, it's game over for you, if that makes any sense! If you need me to elaborate more, please do tell!

heck yes!! cute animals who take no shit... we love to see it >:D

Hah, now this is his kinda pet! Seriously, he couldn’t be more thrilled with his S/O’s choice of animal companions. He’s into the exotics in general, so a type of parrot definitely gets his attention. Not only that… he totally agrees with the bird. Anyone trying to bug (Name) will get cussed out by Cheslock too. It’s sort of funny to watch, because you’ve got this person’s boyfriend and their pet pretty much ganging up on whoever’s being a nuisance. And as long as it’s not stressful for the bird, he’s happy to cuddle up with both of them on the couch whenever.

Hmph… he’s never seen anything like this bird before. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?? It’s neither, really. He very much enjoys the fact that someone will speak up for his S/O if he himself happens not to be around, surely. But the fact that another being is protective of them hits him in a strange spot. They’re not going to up and decide they only want the bird and not him, right? Call him insecure. (Because he is.) While he never gets as touchy-feely with the bird as (Name) might be, he does have his own bond with the creature. He likes birds more than any other animal, if nothing else, and this one isn’t so bad.

… Well, the bird can speak enough for the both of them. That’s all there is to it, honestly. He’s not much of a talker either, so if his S/O wants to remain quiet, he doesn’t mind it a bit. The only thing which might grate on him a bit is the bird’s… colorful vocabulary. As long as the bird is well-behaved and only curses when the situation calls for it, he supposes it’s alright. His biggest hope is that (Name)’s macaw can get along with his chicken. During more domestic moments, one can sometimes find the bird perched on Phipps’ shoulder as he sews something, and he will gladly give the creature nuzzles and pets.

(Oh, that’s rather different.) Indeed it is, Donne. (Do you suppose we could speak to that thing?) Hm, probably not, Oscar. This is almost the same way that Snake speaks to his friends; almost, not quite. He enjoys it for the simple fact that he’s never been able to communicate with other animals aside from snakes, so it’s a novelty. And the bird is more than capable of standing up for his sweet S/O in ways that even he struggles to. He’s grateful. Literally the only thing he’s concerned about is making sure the bird doesn’t view any of the snakes as a potential dinner. As long as that’s sorted, he’s more than glad to give the macaw the same gentle attention he gives his own pets.

Ah, that’s certainly an interesting choice for a pet. None of them have ever seen anything like it. Also, as people who can be quiet and gentle but have absolutely filthy mouths themselves, all three of them very much relate to the bird. They view the animal like some kind of brother-in-arms in the fight of protecting their S/O. If someone is being rude? All one of them has to do is call for the bird or whistle and the situation will be taken care of quickly. That’s assuming one of the triplets doesn’t step in first, of course. They treat the creature like an absolute king, all taking turns bonding with this bird. Thompson takes the bird out in the garden (preferably on some kind of harness just in case); Timber makes special food and is the one to fill up the bird’s dish; Canterbury likes to just cuddle, petting the bird. All things being equal, though, the three of them very much prefer it when they and their S/O can all be together with the bird. Like a little family!

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 16 - Atapuerca to Burgos

We were on the road a little later today, closer to 8 than 7.30. We couldn’t send our bags on today even though we were walking 12.5 miles as we had booked an Airbnb and there was no reception to receive them at.

There was a climb out of Atapuerca and it felt a bit milder so it didn’t take long before we stripped off our coats. The view back was lovely with the mist over the valley.

As we got to the cross at the top we got our first view of Burgos in the distance.

We pootled down the path in good spirits anticipating our breakfast. The signed path however didn’t follow the map so it took a bit longer to get to our first cafe. The freshly squeezed orange juice was the cheapest we had had, 3 euros for a large glass. We were joined by Scott and Shannon, and also caught up with Joe and Charles who we thought we’d left behind.

It’s amazing how on this walk we are back to our lowest level of needs - our only worries are having somewhere to stay and something to eat.

The path eventually reached the outskirts of Burgos and there are several ways in. We chose the one that took us down the side of the airport. It was a pretty soulless path with no cover that seemed to go on for ever, with factories by the side. However, the alternative would have been alongside the motorway. At the end we stopped for a well earned lemonade.

We then chose to follow the path that went by the river, using one of our apps to make sure we were on the right track. It was a much nicer way to go, passing through a country park eventually reaching a promenade area that reminded us of the Taff Trail near Cardiff.

But that bit seemed to go on and on forever. We took a couple of rest stops, and Jane was getting a bit fed up and decided to run it instead - I left her to it!

We couldn’t check into the Airbnb until 3 so I had messaged the host to see if she could recommend somewhere to eat, which she did. I don’t think that they were quite sure of us when we walked into this trendy place hulking our rucksacks, looking dishevelled and probably a bit smelly. But we got settled and I enjoyed a cool beer. Jane had a burger with egg and bacon and I had a sort of chicken Caesar salad on toast. They both hit the spot.

Our Airbnb is perfect for what we need. It’s on the top floor of an old building in an old square and we’ve each got our own room. We tossed a coin for the double which Jane won. It even has a tiny bath! It’s bright and airy and very comfortable.

As we needed to wash all our stuff we had to message the host to find out where the washing machine was (across the outside corridor). So we’ve taken it in turns to do our washing this time, just a 30 minute cycle.

Leaving everything drying we went out to meet Nicole for a drink, then went off to find the Texans (Alex and Tim) at a restaurant, and Scott found us. I think it’s still pinchos in Burgos but the food all tasted wonderful and what was even nicer is that it felt so mild sat outside

Jane, Scott and I went for a wander afterwards to find an ice cream and the cathedral which looked spectacular against the night sky. It’s definitely on the visit list tomorrow as we are here for a couple of nights to give us a rest and to allow us to explore this beautiful place.