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boherahpsody · 17 days

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Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

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boherahpsody · 1 month

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A Monégasque Story (Part 5) - Charles Leclerc

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary of the series - Y/n is Charles' best friend little sister. They grew up together but haven't seen each other's for years. Their relationship seems to take a different turn when Charles stay at her's and her brother's.

Warning - Both Y/n's and Charles' POV, Fem reader, Both Charles and Y/n speaking French (translated) tension, tooth rotting fluff, three years age gap, mature content, 18+, brother's best friend, friends to lovers, she felt first he felt harder...

Disclaimer: I'm French and my English is NOT perfect ! ⚠️ Please don't stole or repost my stories on any other sites. Btw reblogs are more then welcomed.

Charles’ POV

I feel her breath hitch slightly as I delicately trace over the delicate skin of her back. I wonder how often she moisturizes for her body to feel so smooth.

Why am I thinking about that? That’s such a weird thing to think about.

I shake it off, concentrating yet again on my task.

I’ve never really given anyone a massage before. I don’t even know where this proposition came from. I just really wanted her to join me on my run, and I wanted to do something in return that would be pleasurable for her. That’s the first thing I thought about that was appropriate.

When I was in the bathroom earlier, I looked up some massage tips on Google, trying to learn rather quickly how to make her feel good.

And it did come in handy for some stuff, sadly enough I forgot most of them. I tried to memorize a bit more when she got to her room to change but she was really quick.

So I'm trying my best with the little knowledge I have. I really want her to relax and have a great time.

I feel a spot on her right shoulder that seems a bit tense, so I insist on it a little, trying to follow the instructions I remember. Going delicately over the spot, and slowly increasing the pressure of my thumbs.

She lets out what I think is a muffled moan. Her head pressing further into the mattress. I smile knowing what I did felt good for her.

She whispers an embarrassed sorry, tensing up immediately.

I shake my head “No, no don’t apologize, I'm happy that you’re liking it, I just want you to feel good.” I smooth my hands up and down her back soothingly, feeling her gradually loosening under me.

“That’s it love, just relax.” The nickname slips out of my mouth before I can think twice about it.

It seems to happen a lot lately.

I start massaging the spot on her shoulder again once she’s completely relaxed. Taking my time to feel around the tenseness, working on it cautiously.

She slightly turns her previously hidden face on the mattress. I catch a tiny satisfied smile making its way on her lips.

She makes eye contact, making me smile down at her. “You’re adorable.” I state suddenly, just because it’s what I was thinking. Sometimes I have the impression that there’s no filter between my brain and my mouth when it comes to her.

It’s probably how five years ago I ended up telling her I liked her just before she flew to Paris. I had the worst timing known to man and messed everything up.

The truth is that I did not even think she would be saying it back. I was just trying to get it off my chest.

But then she flew to Paris, my first season in F1 started and I beat myself up every day for not saying it before.

Her cheeks grow slightly red at the compliment, and she just closes her eyes, relaxing completely under my touch.

I work on her shoulder a little more and progressively make my way down her back. Massaging the zones that are tenser, before smoothing my palms up and around so she knows that I'm done with her upper body.

I gently start to knead the skin on her hips, putting a bit more pressure, making her sigh happily.

“Could you maybe go slightly lower, just under the spot you’re at. I have this tension in my lower back… almost on my tailbone since yesterday after jumping from the boat.” She lets out hesitantly, as if she was still contemplating on asking me while she was already in the process of doing it.

“Here?” I ask after going a little lower.

She shakes her head “No not quite” I try again going even lower stopping once I reach the spot on her tailbone. She sighs. “Right here”

My fingers are brushing against the towel that lays over her bum as I timidly massage the indeed really tense area.

I work on it for a while, until I feel it loosen, then move down to her thighs, starting from the part toward her knees and working upward.

Her thighs are thicker than any other zone of her body, and I did not think I would say that one day but it has been really fun to massage. Her skin just feels so soft and full under my fingertips.

I work my way on her upper thighs cautiously, stopping at her bum.

I avert my eyes as her legs unconsciously squeeze together before loosening up again but farther than before. Giving me a clear view of her swimsuit bottom under the towel.

I just look away trying to remind myself not to read into it. This is just her body reacting to feeling good.

So I just concentrate back on my movement, before moving to her calves.

“Are you ready to turn around?” I ask her softly, seeing the sleepiness on her face.

She nods slightly, before putting her palms flat on the mattress and lifting herself up, before tying back her top that was threatening to reveal her pretty breasts.

She lays back down, getting comfortable with her head on my pillow this time. She pushes away the towel that was on her hips.

I don’t really know what to do now. Massaging her back was easy because I didn’t really see her face. Now with her eyes looking at me wide and soft, it feels way more intimate.

I drop the eye contact and clear my throat, looking around as if I would find a magical solution to make things less awkward.

I look up at her again, ready to make a joke on how she cannot stop looking at me, but my mind changes the minute I cross her gaze.

She harbors an expression similar but at the same time completely different than the minute before. I cannot neither describe nor decipher. A mix between lust and vulnerability.

My attention drops to my forearm as I feel the subtle touch of her hand on my wrist.

I don’t know what changed, but I feel it all around, I see it in her eyes, in her touch and her hazy breath. It’s like her boundaries dropped and she was letting me in for the first time in forever.

I move my hands to either side of her waist, caressing it slightly with my thumbs. Testing her limits.

It gains her attention, she looks down at them before almost immediately gazing back up at me. Her hand still on my wrist playing with my bracelets.

She looks so beautiful. I hadn’t been able to stop looking at her these last few days.

I put my finger under her chin, caressing her jaw with my thumb.

She melts in my hand, her breath hitching which made her mouth part lightly.

Her pupils are so dilated that I struggle to see the color in them.

I close the space between us, placing my lips on hers.

She kisses me back, her hand leaving my wrist to grip the back of my neck.

I bite her lower lip lightly, deepening the kiss. I can’t get enough of her.

Her mouth is so soft and her lips taste like strawberries.

I feel her tongue licking my bottom lip, asking for permission. It’s slow and controlled but at the same time it’s needy and not enough.

I open my mouth, licking her tongue back, before gripping her neck harder, pulling her closer to me.

She pulls away panting, her desiring eyes searching for mine. Opening her legs wider so I can step between them.

So I do, before going for her mouth again. She moans and I swear this is the only thing I want to hear from now on. It’s nothing like the one she let out when I was massaging her, it’s needy and pure longing.

Feeling my pants tighten, I groan against her lips “You‘re driving me insane, Y/N”

She grips the hair at the back of my neck, drawing me impossibly close to her.

I pull away from her lips, trailing kisses all over her jaw, while she twirls on my hair harder, breathing heavily.

I bite and suck on her skin wanting to imprint it on her skin.

I don’t even know if I will ever find the words to describe what’s going on in the fuzziness of my mind. It’s deeper than lust, deeper than want. It’s visceral.

I need her all over me, I need her to invade all of my senses. I need to feel her, touch her, hear her… smell her. And damn, she smells so good.

“Charles” she lets out in a pant, her hands trailing all the way down my back, feeling around before coming back up to my neck.

I look up at her for a second, needing to take in her mesmerizing face, before moving from her neck to her breast.

I kiss the top of the left one, feeling the much tender skin under my lips. And move one hand to the right one squeezing it lightly between my palm.

A moan leaves her mouth for the third time tonight, followed by a faint and hazy “Char”

I drop my head in between them, sinking deeper into their plushness. I stay here for a second, loving all around them, before she grips back at my hair, pulling me toward her.

A restless expression lays around her face before she pulls me in for a kiss again.

She slowly pushes her tongue into my mouth, searching for mine and deepening the kiss as much as she could, her hand moving to my sides gripping my hipbones.

We jumpily pull away as an alarm suddenly starts going off. I extend my arm toward Y/N ‘s phone grabbing it for her.

I sigh as I see the contact picture of her and her brother hugging. “It’s Raphael” I let out in an almost panicked voice.

“She immediately sits up, “oh, ok” She grabs the phone in my hand and slides right to answer it.

“Hello…” Raphael's voice is muffled so it’s kind of hard to tell what he’s saying.

“Ok right I’ll see you soon then” she says nervously before hanging up and immediately rushing up.

“So, what did he say?” I ask trying to get some information, but she’s just looking around the room to see if there is any of her stuff “He’s gonna be home in a minute” she lets out rushingly before quickly walking to the door, closing the door behind her.

Raphael gets home five minutes later, Y/N is all cleaned up and changed. Talking so suspiciously, eagerly and with a high pitched tone to her brother that I'm sure even him knows something is up with her.

I try to make eye contact with her. Trying to figure out what she’s thinking, but she immediately glances away, anywhere but at me.

I'm stupid.

To be continued…

(Part 6 coming soon)

I hope you guys liked it. It’s a bit longer than the last one so I’m happy.

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boherahpsody · 2 months

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A Monégasque Story (Part 4) - Charles Leclerc

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Disclaimer: I'm French and my English is NOT perfect ⚠️ Please don't stole or repost my stories on any other sites. Btw reblogs are more then welcomed.

The party yesterday shit faced me. Less than the last time i guess, but i still had a pretty hard time waking up.

We got home late and i had maximum 4 hours of sleep. So yeah, this is fun.

I push the sheets away with very little motivation, and head to the bathroom.

I cross my reflection in the mirror, and huff. I wash my face and tie my hair trying to look more alive and less zombie like before opening my bedroom door.

I make my way to the kitchen, directly greeted by the sight of Charles looking all freshened up, ready to attack the day as if his night before has consisted in sipping an infusion and going to bed at 7pm with cucumbers slices on his pretty eyes and a waves song audio in the background.

I stop dead in my track, eyeing him up and down. He’s standing by the kitchen sink, filling his water bottle in a workout outfit. I don’t know if i should hate him or be inspired.

He smiles when he sees me entering the room, “hi love” I give him a quick hug before making my way to the fridge.

“Are you really going to work out this early ?” I ask him taking the apple juice bottle before turning back to him.

He look down at his watch laughing, “It’s ten”.

I sight “That’s what im saying, it’s too early to do any type of exercise.”

He close his water bottle and get closer to the counter where im standing “Well, i didn’t really trained since im here and all we do is eat and drink. Andrea is going to kill me. And even if im on holiday,” he says through quoted fingers “I still need to do work out and stuff, i don’t have time messing around.”

I chuckle, “Ok Tiana” He furrowed his eyes brows for a second before rolling his eyes. “Your reference are frightening” He snickers back.

I laugh, putting my hands under my chin in a “im proud of it” way before passing by him again “Well have fun, im going to go back to sleep.”

He quickly grab my wrist to spin me around. I look up, to him shocking his head, all smug. “Not so fast, you’re coming with me.”

I look down at his hand still securely wrapped up around my wrist, then back at him. “I think you’re mistaking, you enjoy tho” I free my hand from him and start making my way out, but once again he spins me around.

“Don’t let spinning people around become an habit, most people don’t like being manhandled you know.” I laugh. He shrug my comment “If you come with me i promise to give you a massage when we came back.” He says way too confidently.

I frown, i wasn’t quite ready for him to say something like that, but it’s not obvious enough for him caught up on it. “What ?” i say in disbelief, needing to hear it once again just to be sure that i got it right.

“If you run with me, i promise to give you a massage when we get home.” He repeats, still as confidently as before. Not a bit of doubt transpiring from his face.

It’s tempting, but im not sure having someone you’re attracted too, with their hands on you, caressing your skin is the best idea. But at the same time, who in their right minds would say no to a massage.

“Ok im coming” I say fastening my way to my bedroom to get ready. I hear him laugh as i close my bedroom door.

___________________

I feel like im going to faint, there’s no blood in my head anymore.

The sun is too bright, the air too hot and i don’t feel my legs anymore.

I come to a stop on the side walk. Immediately gripping my knees with my hands trying to steady myself and get my breathing back to normal.

I see Charles turn around, making his way back to me while laughing.

I so want to sweep his little smug expression out of his face right now.

“Are you trying to kill me ? Don’t laugh, im serious. Are trying to kill the shit out of me ?” I pants looking down, afraid that if I look up for too long I might puke.

“I can’t even breath anymore.” I state sitting down. Well actually more like dropping myself on the ground. My legs are not capable of holding me anymore.

“Don’t sit on the ground it’s dirty.” I hear Charles say as he’s already helping me up.

He put his arms around me and his lips to my ear “We’re good for today. You did not gave up, I’m proud of you" He compliment ms as we start walking back.

Before I know what im doing, my face broke into a big smile. “Im proud of you.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” I say in a giggle genuinely in disbelief. He laugh out, his hand flexing on my side.

“Force of habits i guess, but if it’s something you want to try, I could train you. I’ll be gentle I promise.

I look up, smiling tiredly at him. “We’re gonna see, I’ll think about it.”

__________________

Raphael was heading to work when we got home. Which means that he most likely won’t be home before at least 3pm.

I directly hoped in the shower. I’ve never felt so dirty in my entire life. Charles took Raphael’s bathroom so we could be as efficient as possible.

I got out first, so i started making some quick lunch. I bend down to get something from the frizzer when i hear the sound of Raphael door closing. I look up, just in time to catch a glance of Charles’ dripping muscular body. He’s only dressed in a white towel handing really low on his hips, low enough for me to see some hair stick out of the towel.

If i had no self respect i would be drooling right now.

I clear my throat and turn around, busying myself.

Charles came back in the kitchen. This time dressed. His hair are still kind of wet, but it’s gonna dry up pretty quickly anyways.

Imagine you wash your hair, it doesn’t even take you that much time, and then they dry alone and looking good. Life is unfair.

“What are we making ?” he ask smiling at me, waking me up of my daydreaming about pretty hair.

I show him the basilic in my hand “I was thinking making some pasta and homemade pesto. how does that sound ?”

He smile immediately making his way toward the cabinet to grab the pasta. “That sound perfect.”

So that’s what we did, it took us maybe 25 minutes, Charles cooked the pasta and i made the sauce.

He’s literally the worst sous chef i ever had, he’s so distracting and unserious. He spend his time joking around trying to tickle me. But ironically enough he is also so attentive and always asking if i need something.

Charles hand gaze my arm as he take the Parmesan on the wood board beside me. When i look up at him, I’m greeted with a shy smile before he quickly moves away.

Once he is done dressing the plate, he carry my plate to the dinning table. I tried to take it from him but he insisted.

He set the table when the pasta were cooking. And he even through of putting some extra cheese in a little bowl for me, knowing how much i like it.

He is pissing me off so much right now. He makes it super hard not to want him.

He takes a mouthful of pasta, his expression unreadable, before laughing out loud.

I giggle, “What’s up with you ?”

“Im so sorry. The pasta are still a bit uncocked” he let out. His shy smile back on his lips.

“Let’s see” I smile back and take a bite, surprised to find a slight crisp under my teeth.

l laugh, making Charles do the same “they are not al dente, they are croquante” he says, his shoulders deeping with how hard he’s laughing.

In reality, it wasn’t that bad and it was still really good.

We eat, while discussing about what our favorite types of music, artists and others stuff.

Since we got home, neither of us mentioned anything about the massage thingy. And I don’t want to be the one to bring it up. Plus, Im not hundred percent sure if it’s a good idea since you know…

We clean up everything, putting the extra food in a tupperware and doing the dishes. Not without Charles shaking his wet hands in my direction instead of drying them. He is a child.

“Are you ready for your massage appointment ?” he ask me with a grin already walking in direction of his room.

My eyes widen, thinking he had forgotten about that. I fasten my pace behind him “Oh Charles it’s ok really you don’t have too” i let out quickly.

He turns around shrugging me off “No, you run with me and you gave it all you could, you deserve it. Plus i promised.” He says opening his bedroom door.

“Stay here im going to go search for some towels” he let out before entering the bathroom next door. He comes back a second later with a big towel, a littler one and my bottle of body oil that was on the counter. “Is it ok if i use this ?” He ask, showing me the bottle.

“Sure” I say sending a smile his way. “Um, how are we going to do this exactly ?” I question looking around.

“Well i was thinking putting that right here…” He says installing the large towel flat on his bed.

"And I don’t know, I guess the easiest would be for you to put on a bathing suits and then put that," he show me the littler towel "on your bum so you have more coverage." he explained way too relaxed.

“I um, yeah im gonna go change.” I let him know quickly before exiting the room. What the fuck im i doing right now ?

I close my bedroom door and choose a swimsuit. One that is not too revealing but at the same time that show enough skin for him to be able to massage me comfortably. I make my way back to Charles’ room, feeling really little dressed. God this is so weird.

When i get in, Charles is sitting on the bed, his phone in hands. He looks up when he hears me. “You’re ready ?” He ask, getting up.

I nod, trying to play it cool, but in reality im pissing myself. I lay on my belly where the large towel is, and put the little one on my butt quickly.

Charles put some instrumental music on, before taking the oil bottle from the nightstand.

“Can i untie your top ? It will be easier to access if it’s off.”

“Um sure.” I say, trying to get comfortable and chase every inappropriate throughs going on and on in my head.

I feel his fingers gaze my skin and my top going lose. I breathe in, preparing myself for what’s to come.

His hands delicately starts to spread out the oil all around my back, getting really shy as he got closer to my lower back then quickly coming up.

It feels so good, but I almost want to laugh at how afraid he is to touch me. He’s brushing his fingertips against my skin as if i would crumble into pieces if he putted more forcefulness in his mouvements.

He starts gently massaging the skin around my spine with his thumbs, making some up and down mouvement, before putting his palms flat on my lower back and pushing them up with a little more energy.

I exhale out, not so quietly. It feels so relaxing i cannot.

He lets out a giggle “What ?” I ask, turning my face slightly on the bed so i can glance at him.

“Does it feels good ?” He whispers. I close my eyes readjusting my head on the mattress, and answer sleepily “So good.”

To be continued…

(Part 5 coming soon )

I hope you guys liked it. Im sorry, it’s a bit shorter than habitually but im back.

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boherahpsody · 6 months

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Car's Outside

Inspired by Car's Outside by James Arthur!

This went through an extensive rewrite/editing process so hopefully, it's good!

I tried matching up the dates as much as possible so hopefully things don't get confusing <3

I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time I'm sayin', "See you again," so many times, it's becoming my tagline But you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than try to catch this flight So many things I'd rather say But for now, it's goodbye

“I’m sorry,” Charles frowned. His breath fanned across her face, his forehead connected to her own. Y/N’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards as she breathed him in.

Y/N knew Charles had to leave. It’s his job. Unlike most couples, she didn’t have the luxury of spending every minute of every second of every day with her boyfriend. Not when he was a world-famous Formula One driver whose job meant he was in a different city every week. And though Y/N enjoyed the privilege of freely going in and out of every paddock in the world because of her connections, it wasn’t a privilege she could exercise frequently. Not when she was an international lawyer also tasked with jet setting to other countries of the world.

But they loved each other and so they made it work. Or, at least, tried to.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said with a rueful smile. Beneath the musky smell of his cologne, Y/N could smell him, familiar and deep, as if the very essence of him had lodged itself in her nose, up her brain, and made a home for himself. “I understand.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Charles sighed, voice deep, as he, too, breathed her in deeply. “I’d rather hold you, here, forever, than catch a stupid plane.”

“You say that now, but when you win a race, you’ll forget all about me,” she teased, opening her eyes to meet Charles’s brilliant greens.

“Not true, cherie. You’re always the first thing I think of when I win. Every win is for you.” And, as if to emphasize the point, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.

Y/N rolled her E/C eyes, a wide smile stretching across her face at the kiss despite herself. “Charles, I’m already your girlfriend. There’s no need for your sweet words to convince me to be yours.”

“It’s the truth, cherie,” he chuckled, “I always think of you first, win or lose. That’s how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then she pulled his face to hers, placing a kiss on his lips that had him grinning against her like a little school boy offered candy by his mother. He pulled her to him tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as her hands wound itself around his soft hair. Kissing him always made her feel so dizzy, like the very air in her lungs left her to make space for him. She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d make space for him in every inch of her if she could.

But one of them had to be responsible and it certainly wouldn’t be Charles. So, despite not wanting to, Y/N found herself pulling away, breathing heavy as her hands trailed from his head, down his neck and on his chest. She resisted the urge to smirk at finding his heart beating just as fast as her own.

“You’re making it harder for me to leave, cherie,” Charles panted, his hair mused where she threaded her fingers.

“Good,” she grinned as she reached up and flattened his head, “you should miss me as much as I miss you. Now go, Leclerc, or else I’ll receive a phone call from Carlos complaining that you kept them waiting.”

“I’ll see you again, cherie,” he smiled, eyes tinged with sadness.

“Of course you will. Good bye for now, mon amour.”

“Good bye for now.” And with one last kiss, Charles left. The door to their house closed behind him, the click echoing around their empty living room. All Y/N could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and when she was sure that he was far enough away, she finally released a sob that had her chest caving, her heart suddenly feeling like beads inside a hollow rattle.

I'm starin' at the same four walls in a different hotel It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well Oh, but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than this mobile in my hand But I guess it'll do, 'cause for you I would run up my phone bill

You say I'm always leavin' You, when you need me the most But the, the car's outside

Y/N didn’t think he was serious about getting on a flight back home, especially when she knew how busy he was on Friday on a race week. Not to mention the fact that the race this week was in Mexico, halfway across the world. But here he was, in the flesh, staring at her with those bright green eyes that she adored so much.

Of course, she should have expected this. Charles was nothing if not determined and when he said he was going to do something, he usually did it.

“You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” Charles said as he barreled into their shared apartment, pushing past her and towards the living room, “I can’t stay long. Joris and Enzo are waiting outside to take me back to the airport.”

Past the front door, Y/N saw Lorenzo leaning against an expensive looking sports car next to Joris. Enzo as lifted a hand in greeting while Joris smiled at her. Y/N returned the greetings before she closed the door and turned to her boyfriend. Her brows were furrowed as she frowned at him, following him to their spacious living room. “What are you doing here? You have a race!”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls and I can’t race properly when I know we’re not okay.” Charles said as he ran his hands through his curls, sticking them up in odd angles. With a jolt, Y/N realized how long his hair was. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten a fresh cut from Pascale but now his hair was touching the nape of his neck. Has it really been that long?

Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering her patience as into a tight ball like freshly spun yarn. “Charles, this can wait—“

“No, it can’t,” Charles interjected, his words clipped and his tone sharp. “You were the one who wanted to talk and I’m already here so let’s talk. Do you want to end things or not, Y/N?”

“What?” She exclaimed, surprised at the sudden question. She wanted many things to happen but breaking up was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to do with him. Yes, they had their issues but she couldn’t imagine any of them could be solved by ending their relationship. “Of course not! Do you want to end things?”

Charles looked offended at the question. “No! I don’t want to end things. I want us to be together!”

“You sure don’t act like it!” She snapped before she could think about her next words. Part of her wished she could gobble up the words, stuff them back in her mouth before he could hear them but it was too late. Charles’ expression turned wounded, but his words held anger when he spoke.

“I told you about this before we started dating! I told you about my busy schedule. You came into this relationship with both eyes open, Y/N. Don’t act like you didn’t know about how busy I get!”

Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. She was beginning to get irrationally angry, and though Y/N was usually very good at compartmentalizing, there was something about the argument that had her wanting to scream. “Dammit, Charles! I know I signed up for this when we started dating but I also signed up for the breaks in between! I thought we could make it work then. But even during the breaks, you’re not here! And I make the time and I make the sacrifices to be here so imagine my disappointment when you don’t!”

“I told you to come to my races!” He yelled, his voice loud and echoing in their living room. His face was beginning to flush in anger, green eyes blazing as he spoke to her. “You’re always welcome there. I don’t know why you never come!”

“It’s hard to find any time to come to your races when I planned all of my time off around your breaks, Charles!” She yelled back. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t want to share you! Not when I barely see you as is. When I come to your races, I know you’ll be too busy doing your job to accommodate me and that’s okay. It’s more than fine. I’m happy to watch you do what you love to do. But, I want to at least see you. To feel you and hear you and talk to you. And I can’t do that during a race weekend because you’re busy and I refuse to be the clingy girlfriend trying to catch all of your attention. I planned my days off around your break period because I figured, that’s when I’ll see you more and actually spend some meaningful time together. But you’re never around! I get it, Charles. Ferrari comes first. I know what I signed up for. But lately, they’ve been coming second and third and fourth. When will it be my turn, Charles? Am I even on the list of your priorities?”

“Of course you are!”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Charles looked at her as if she’d struck him. “How can you say that when you know it’s not true. I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

She sighed, some of the fight leaving her body. “I do know that, Charles. I never said you didn’t love me. But just because you love me doesn’t mean I feel loved by you. I want to make things work. I try to make things work. But, sometimes it feels like you’re never around. And, I get it, you have a demanding job—“

“Don’t put all of this on me like your job is easy.” He scoffed, his eyes flashing in annoyance once again. “Your schedule is even more demanding than mine, and I’m sure that with your new job, you’ll have even less time for me.”

“Are you serious, Charles?” She hissed, her anger coming back in droves at his words, “You’re putting this on me? I make the time for you! Rather than seeing my family and friends during my breaks, I’m in Monaco for you and you always cancel on me at the last minute and I never complain! You were the one who missed our anniversary dinner!”

“And you miss my races!”

“You missed my promotion!”

“You never told me about your promotion!”

“How can I when you ditched me on our anniversary!”

“I told you why I missed it! The upgrades were important—“

“AM I NOT IMPORTANT, CHARLES?” She screamed. Briefly, she wondered if their neighbors could hear them, if Enzo and Joris could but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze at him as she said her next words softly, the fight leaving her body. “The anniversary wasn’t the only thing you missed. You missed my birthday, too. You didn’t even greet me but I took it to stride because I knew you were busy. I didn’t complain until now because I understood. Even when you promised me you’d fly home for your birthday so we can celebrate together and then you cancelled because of the Ferrari party and the interview, I understood. I plan all of my time off around you and never around my family or my friends, who, by the way, live in another country because I know you want to spend time with me. I always understand, Charles. I understand so much that sometimes I feel like I’m always making the sacrifices for our relationship and never you. And whenever I think to myself, I wish he’d choose me for once, it makes me feel like I’m a terrible person because I know you’re out there trying to achieve your dreams just like me and yet here I am, complaining that I don’t get enough time with you. You’re always promising to make it up to me but you never do and—” A familiar lump formed at the back of her throat, choking her words as a searing heat prickled the back of her eyes.

She loved Charles, she really did. But it was beginning to feel like that love was one sided. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what loving a man like him entailed. She expected that they’ll rarely see each other but at the rate things were going, they didn’t see each other at all. And judging by the way Charles was looking at her, with the anger in his eyes replaced by shame, he was beginning to realize that too.

“I missed your birthday?” Charles said taken aback.

“You were in Canada,” she shrugged miserably, “you were busy. I didn’t think I should remind my boyfriend when my birthday is. If you couldn’t remember, that just means you had more important things in mind.”

Shame coated his eyes as realization dawned on him. “I can’t believe I missed your birthday.”

She sniffled as she swiped at the tears that began to collect in her eyes. “It’s fine—“

“No, it’s not. I am an asshole, cherie,” Charles groaned as he pulled her in his embrace. His chest was warm, his arms even warmer as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m always apologizing to you and it’s not right. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry for saying those terrible things to you. I can’t believe you put up with me treating you like this for a whole year. Missing your birthday, and my birthday and our anniversary. Fuck, you’re right and it doesn’t make you a bad person to think those things because you’re right. I’m so sorry.”

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes I would trade them all for a minute more But the car's outside And he's called me twice

Guilt, heavy and shameful, curled in his insides.

No wonder she was so upset with him. Every iota of her fury and more, he deserved for the shitty way he’s been treating her.

“I’m so sorry, cherie,” Charles mumbled against her hair. The smell of her shampoo, as familiar to him as his own was, invaded his sense. “I’m so sorry.”

He could feel her hands begin to wrap around his midsection. It was soft at first, tentative, before she tightened her hold on him like she was stuck in the middle of the sea and he was the lifeboat that saved her. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, the feel of her body a reassuring weight he didn’t realize he lost but was finding his whole life.

“I’m staying,” he said, pressing kisses against her head in between his words, “we’re going to celebrate everything. Your birthday, mine, our anniversary, even your promotion. You deserve as much. You deserve even more. Come fly with me, baby. Let’s go, wherever you want.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N said as she pulled away from him, eyes wide as she peered at him through her lashes.

“I’m staying here, in Monaco, with you.” He said slowly, conviction filling him as he said the words.

She gave him a dubious look. “Charles, it’s a race week. We both know you can’t miss that. It’s in Mexico for crying out loud! That’s why halfway across the world. You need to be back on the plane now if you want to make it back by Sunday.”

“I don’t care.” He said stubbornly. “None of it matters without you. Ferrari already took my breaks. I can sacrifice a race or two” And then his lips pulled into a rueful smile. “Besides, I’m not in the running for the championship anyway.”

Her eyes were still twinkling from the unshed tears, and despite the frown pulling at her lips, Charles had never thought she looked as beautiful as she did today. “But Charles, I have a job to do. I’m set to leave for London two days from now.”

His phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He fished it out of his pocket with a sigh, seeing Enzo’s face flashing on the screen. His arms were still wrapped around Y/N as he answered the phone

“Charles, nous devons partir,” Enzo urged.. (Charles, we need to leave.)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles replied, eyes trained on Y/N, who was watching the whole exchange with wide, reproachful eyes. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Quoi?” (What)

“Cancel my flight, Enzo. I’m not going back. You and Joris can go home. Tell Maman I love her,” he said, ending the call before his brother could protest.

“Charles you can’t just leave in the middle of the weekend.” Y/N said, looking at him like he’d grown two heads.

“Yes, I can.” He said determinedly as he placed his hands on the side of her face, caressing her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes in an effort to try and make her understand just how serious he really was. “I’m not racing this week. Or next week.”

“You’re going to miss Brazil too?”

“Yes. It’s time I choose you for once. I’ll race back in Vegas and Abu Dhabi but they’re lucky they’ll get even that. I chose them time and time again, cherie, and it’s not right. This is me making it up to you.” He pulled her face to his, placing a kiss on her lips. It was slow and languid, like the winding of a stopped clock that you’re trying to make right. Charles knew how lucky he was to have Y/N and she didn’t deserve to be forgotten, especially not like this. All he’s done was give her empty promises and if there was anyone in the world that deserved the best, it was her.

She pulled away from the kiss, loss of her making him groan. “What about my job? I have so much to do when I get to London. I won’t be in Monaco until the first week of November and the breaks will be far and few in between.”

“Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” he said before pulling her into another kiss, this one searing and needy. He felt her pull him towards her, closing whatever distance was between them until their bodies lined flushed against the other. He could feel her figure through their clothes, feel the way her breath hitched as his hands found themselves on her waist, thumbs skimming the soft feel of her skin. She gasped at his touch and the feral feeling that seized him had the tether in him snapping. He kissed her harder, hands winding down to the back of her legs and lifting her. Almost instinctively, Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her feet crossing at his back. Her hands wound themselves around his hair, pulling at the strands in a delicious way that made him shudder.

How could he choose Ferrari over and over again when they would never be able to make him feel this way? He doubted not even winning a race in Monaco would feel as she good as she does.

His phone rang again, interrupting their moment. Charles groans as he pulled away and Y/N’s laugh rang around their living room. If another phone call interrupts them again, he’s getting rid of this thing. He clicked the green button, Fred’s face flashing as he answered the call with one hand while the other continued to grip Y/N.

“Charles—“

“I’ll see you in Vegas, Fred.” Was the only thing he said before Charles clicked the red button and tossed the phone aside, focusing his whole attention back on his girlfriend.

But he's gonna have to wait tonight I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee Unless you pack your bags You're comin' with me I'm tired of lovin' from afar And never being where you are Close the windows, lock the doors Don't wanna leave you anymore

“You mean it? You’re really skipping Mexico and Brazil for me?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful as she spoke. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers playing at the strands of his hair.

“I am.” He said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I love you, cherie, and I want to love you by your side. You’re my number one priority and I’m sorry that it took me so long to remember that. I know I’ll have to leave again but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I love you, cherie. Will you let me come with you?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled, before she leaning her face to him, continuing their kiss right were they left off.

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