helioslover

[helioslover]

CHERRY - CL16

PAIRING : singer!charles leclerc x actress!reader SUMMARY : you listen to the song charles has written about you for the first time. you hate how in love with him you are. WORD COUNT : 4.4k TW : angst, mentions of alcohol, breakup, sex SONG : cherry - harry style

You hate planes. You also hate being too shy to ask the stewardess for a night mask so that you could sleep through the flight. You hate knowing who’ll be picking you up at the airport. You also hate the way you're happy to see a familiar face in a country where you don’t know anyone, even if it is this familiar face. But you mostly hate the way you're eager to see Charles.

You have spoken a lot through the last few months, and you think that maybe the heartache you've felt for so much time has finally healed. Charles' has been staying in Monaco -he now splits his time between there and London - for a couple of weeks as he is recording some new songs for the next album. As unbelievable as it sounds, you have meticulously avoided any of Charles' new songs until now. The only one you're familiar with is Sixteen but you know that title tracks aren’t the ones Charles puts his entire soul in. You aren't ready to hear the brown-haired boy that used to drive you crazy sing about another woman. Yes, you've seen the pictures of Charles and Alexandra and yes, you've cried in your pillow until your body felt so dry that there were no tears left to cry.

“What do you mean you’ve never listened to my songs ever since we broke up ?” Charles had looked so shocked when you told him the truth (not the part about crying yourself to sleep, no, you didn’t mention this) that you had laughed. “Not even the ones from Fast Cars ? We were still talking when I released Fast Cars, Y/N !” His voice sounded raspy and you remembered that it was still early and that Charles had never been a morning person.

“Why are you up so early ?” you were clearly trying to avoid the subject.

“You called me, you idiot. I only answered because it was you. But now, I’m considering the option of hanging up. I mean… I’m not trying to brag but where were you for the last four years ? My songs have been everywhere.”

You chuckled. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I know that. You have no idea how annoying it is to avoid your songs at parties, on the radio, on TV, everywhere, you’re fucking everywhere, dude.”

“Don’t dude me. I think we're a bit closer than that, Y/N.” He was smiling at the camera, showing off his dimples. Behind him was a patchwork of photos, posters and movie tickets hanging on a beige wall. You tried to imagine the rest of the room. “Don’t think I’m forgetting what you just admitted. Mon Dieu,” he sighed overdramatically, “how would you react if I said I never watched any of your movies, huh ?”

You rolled your eyes. “I never said that I didn’t know any of your songs, Charles. I know some of them. But, I hate saying this, I kind of did not want to hear you sing about other people. See what I mean ? It’s alright when it’s from a time where you didn’t even know I existed, I mean some of yours are probably part of my favourite songs, but not when it’s- not when I-”.

“When what, Y/N ?” Charles asked, his voice softened as if he understood how hurt you would feel by hearing songs that weren’t about you.

“Nothing, just leave it. And don’t even try to pretend you’ve seen all of the things I act in. I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard about half of them.”

Charles was now smiling again. “I’ve seen all of them, Y/N. And you were good in every single one of them.”

Something broke inside of your heart because Charles' voice sounded like a warm hug. His statement somehow seemed like a proof that you weren’t the only one to find it hard to get rid of what you felt. And somehow, you hated it. “I gotta go. See you.” And you hung up. You were feeling too many things at the same time. You hated it.

You hate delay. Your plane hasn’t taken off yet and you're already bored. Your neighbor looks like he could be somewhere between fifty and eighty-four and it’s too cloudy to see anything through the window. Your book is not as interesting as it looked like and you know you haven’t downloaded enough playlists. You hate it, not knowing what to do.

You checks your phone to see if Charles has seen your previous message, warning him about your flight being late.

‘its ok, ill still pick you up, y/nickname.’

You smile. Even after all this time, you still don’t know if you hate or loves it when Charles uses your nickname. Another text appears on the screen.

‘since you have time, listen to my favourite one.’

There’s a link leading to a Spotify song and you download it, right before the pilot finally announces that the plane is about to take off. You put on your headphones, press play and instantly, as the first notes of the guitar resonate in your ears, cry.

Don't you call him baby [...] Don't you call him what you used to call me

The first time you called Charles baby wasn’t intentional. You recall the exact moment it slipped out of you mouth and the look Charles gave you after. You were about to have dinner with his mom and his brothers in Charles' flat and you hated how stressed you felt about truly meeting his family even though you'd already been introduced.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you have to warn me about, huh ?” you asked Charles for the hundredth time as you put on a blue shirt that made you look older than you were. Dinner was ready, Charles was too : the only one that was still changing her outfit (for the fourth time already) was you.

“Y/N, I told you : you have nothing to worry about. And you met them already, it’s not like they’re complete strangers.” Charles said from the kitchen where he was setting up the table.

You sighed. You couldn’t help it. The last time you'd seen Charles' family, you were just the girl who starred in his debut movie with him, not the girl he fucked every night. “Maybe blue isn’t my colour, don't I look kind of pale ?" you asked as you joined the kitchen.

“Shh, you’re making me crazy. You look perfect, just like you always do.” Charles handed you a glass of wine. He was wearing a red jacket on some beige pants and looked good. Like really good. “Drink this, it’ll help you.”

The wine was good, really good, and Charles' hands massaging your shoulders felt even better. You hated how Charles always seemed to know what you needed.

“Jesus, baby, this feels good.” The word flew out of your lips so naturally you didn’t even notice at first.

“What did you call me ?”

Your cheeks were turning red under Charles' sharp green eyes. You had seen this look before and knew exactly what usually came right after. “I- um, baby ?”

Charles took a deep breath. His body had gotten closer to yours. “And she does it again, Jesus, Y/N.”

You didn’t exactly understand why such a simple word had such an effect on Charles but you liked it. You liked having this power over him when you usually were the one looking like a middle-school girl talking to her crush for the first time. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, getting eager for a contact with Charles' skin. “Well, baby is gonna have to calm down. At least for now.” you answered, smiling wickedly.

Charles lost his smile. “Y/N. Stop it or I swear I’ll-” The doorbell had rung. Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo were there.

We're not talking lately

You hate the fact that every line in this song seems directly aimed at youYou. He clearly remember Charles telling you this one word for word. It happened a couple of weeks after your breakup, after you'd moved out of Charles' London flat and had taken all of your things, even the ones you'd always left behind during your previous crises. You never really believed that this time was going to be the real one, that all of the years you'd spent around Charles were on the verge of becoming memories and nothing more. You couldn't even remember the reason you had started fighting. All you knew was that words couldn’t be unsaid and that you couldn’t look at Charles without remembering all the things that had been yelled that infamous night. So you had packed your bags in the middle of the night and had left.

Charles hadn’t called. For about a week, all you could do was look at your phone every ten minutes, hoping for a message, a missed call notification (though it would’ve been merely impossible for you to miss that call), something that would prove you that Charles cared about your relationship. You had walked away so that Charles would realise that he couldn't keep on treating you like you were granted and you had ended up losing it all.

Weeks had gone by without a word from the man you now called your ex. And then weeks had turned into months. Tabloids had sparked dating rumours of Charles and some amazingly pretty girls and it looked like the 'Y/N' chapter had quickly been forgotten. You had felt like an idiot until you'd received the long awaited message.

‘hey y/n, i hope you’re doing good. we’re not talking lately but i just needed you to know that i miss you’

Your heart had stopped beating. Or had it started beating faster ? You had felt like your insides were burning and your mind stopped functioning. It’d been so long since Charles had gone out of the picture that you weren’t even waiting for a sign anymore. You'd started moving on, helped by some of your friends who, tired of hearing complaints about the way things should’ve been, had decided that you had to create a Tinder profile. You'd been on dates, you'd met men that were willing to fill you heart with pure joy and some who were just willing to fill you. But you'd taken what you wanted from both categories and you'd stopped aching with the simple sight of Charles' name on a billboard.

But this message, it wasn’t supposed to ever be sent, it was too late now. It disrupted every plan you'd made to deal with the loss of the one you'd thought would be the love of his life. So you did what you believed was the best to do for your heart. You never answered.

I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it You hated it but you still knew every single part of Charles by heart. You'd learned over the years how to decipher every single one of his expressions, even the ones Charles thought nobody would notice. You knew what a half-smile meant, what the subtle frown hid and what the quick eyes puckering could be translated as. And this particular knowledge of Charles' feelings also meant that you totally knew that he was lying when he was claiming to be really happy for you. Charles hated it, he wanted to disappear, to go back in time and never let you leave because he’d never been as happy as you'd made him ever since. You knew that, you could read in the discrete clenching of his jaw.

You weren’t supposed to meet, not more than two years after your last interaction. Charles' message had been left unanswered and he’d never sent another. But awards season was always the theatre of a lot of unwanted encounters.

Charles was as beautiful as ever in his white turtleneck and black pants. His eyes sparkled when they met yours and there was nothing you could’ve done to avoid the conversation.

“You look quite good, Y/N.” You shivered, you hated the way your entire body still reacted to the simple sound of Charles' voice. “How’ve you been ?”

“I- erm…” You hated yourself for having to clear your throat, “I’ve been alright, thanks for asking. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I thought you were on tour.”

Charles smiled when you admitted knowing his schedule. “Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to come but then they sent the guest list and I don’t know, I guess I figured I’d stop by.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was openly flirting with you.

You hated the way you'd missed out on most of the ceremonies because you did not feel ready to face Charles. You'd been right. The sight of Charles' ringed fingers, his grown hair, the sparkle in his eyes, the smelling of his very own scent that hadn’t changed a bit ; it all made you weak. You just knew by the look on Charles' face that you were sharing the same thought : how could you have let go of what you had ?

"Well I’m glad you’re here.” You weren’t, but you hoped you weren’t as easy to decipher as Charles was so that you could keep the act on long enough to be convincing. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to win every single one of these things. You always do.” This last part was genuine : Charles was one of the most talented people you knew and even though you had no idea what his new album sounded like, you were pretty confident it was good.

“Oh thanks, Y/N. I’d be surprised if your movie didn’t win anything tonight. How ‘bout we go out after that, huh ? I mean, if I get to win something and to see you, this night might become the best I’ve had in a while.” His green eyes were reflecting a malicious light that almost made him look mischievous. You felt a knot forming in your stomach. You knew it was physically impossible to refuse Charles' offer but also knew how bad of a choice it would be. You were stuck weighing pros and cons in your mind, well aware that your silence was getting a bit too long. You hated the way Charles' presence made it almost impossible for you to think straight.

Your phone rang in you pocket, a sort of a way out you clung to. “Hi, baby, where are you ?” On the other end of the line, Daniel, your new boyfriend – was it really a boyfriend if the only thing you shared was an appreciation for each other’s body and a fear of being entirely alone ? – answered but you didn’t listen to anything he was saying. Instead, you focused on Charles' visible frown and the tears that he was fighting back. He mouthed something that looked like “I’ll see you”, though you both knew it wasn’t true and left without ever looking back. It took you a couple of seconds to process what had just happened before you were able to concentrate on what you were being told.

What Charles never let you know – perhaps because he hated how uncontrollable his feelings for you were – was how big of a mess your encounter had turned him into. He then fully understood that he’d lost you, that it was over, your love had supposedly died when he still believed he would be able to bring it back to life. He hated himself for being selfish, for hating it when you looked so well, for being the one unable to get over it. His wound was still bleeding when yours seemed to have already healed, at least from what he’d seen. And it was at that moment, as he was curled up on his bed, wondering if he was a bad person for hating the way you could be happy without him, that Charles started writing Cherry.

[...]

You hate the way your eyes will look reddish and puffy for the rest of the flight as much as you hate the tears that are running down your cheeks. You secretly hope your neighbour won’t notice your unease and replay Cherry. You already know you've missed out on some lyrics and you don’t want to. You want to hear every single one of Charles' words, the ones that seemed to have been written only for you to hear.

And suddenly, you hate the fact that other people have been able to hear this song (even more so that they did it before you). It feels like such an invasion of Charles' intimacy, of what he has shared with you. Everything sounds so obvious – from the lyrics to the title, reminding you of how you'd learnt a French endearment and always used it to call Charles : chéri, chéri, chéri – it’s an open window on your relationship and the way its ending was handled, the effect you had on Charles.

But then, now that you think about it, you also come to the realisation that, except for those of your friends that know and the few people in Charles' life that are aware of the two-year-long relationship you had, no one knows that you and Charles even kept in touch once the promotion of your movie ended. It’s not an absurd logic : you don’t think Charles has ever seen any of the other actors in years. And this, the fact that for the majority of people, what you had never existed, brings more tears to your eyes. Nothing in the song gives off any hint on who it is written to for people who’re not close to Charles. You somewhat feel deceived. As much as you hate the feeling of losing some privacy, you hate the fact that you can’t really brag about this song being about you. It is a beautiful song, you have the right to feel quite proud of inspiring it.

It must be the fourth time Cherry replays when you catch on some line and realize that, intentionally or not, Charles has left a hint as to who’s the song about. It is not really obvious but you know how fans are eager to decipher any small details.

I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress

You had hated this interview. Six months had eventually gone by after Charles' last attempt of talking to you when Alex and Lily had shown you the extract. You were in their apartment, sharing a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, having just learnt that Alex had gotten the role in the movie he’d auditioned for.

“I never thought he was hurting as much as you did before I saw this” he had said, lighting another cylinder. His living room was already full of smoke. “but I swear, I might not be the closest to Charles, but I’d never seen him look so sad, Y/N” he had added as he was searching the video.

It was one of Yuki Tsunoda’s restaurant interviews. Charles looked as good as ever and you had hated the way you'd had to repress a smile from appearing on your face. Something looked different but you couldn’t point out what it was. In the restaurant, Yuki asked Charles about his fashion style evolution. You couldn’t figure out why Alex wanted you to watch this.

“I don’t really think I tell myself : oh yeah, this is the kind of style that I’m going to go for. I truly believe that my outfits are a way of expressing the way I feel and also that the people who surround me have a great influence on the way I dress. I mean, you asking that is funny because right this morning I looked at myself in the mirror and I started thinking of the way, you know,” and suddenly, in a matter of moments, Charles' eyes had started shining from tears that threatened rolling down his cheeks. His voice sounded hoarse and full of sobs, “there’s quite literally a piece of the person I love in how I dress. I still have some clothes that I used to steal from our closet and that I forgot to give back. Like this,” Charles pointed at his sweater, “this one’s Y/N's but I love it”.

The name had slipped out of his mouth but neither he, nor Yuki, seemed to have noticed, too focused on his emotions (Charles had to actually wipe a tear) to care. But you had noticed and so had others. So had Alex and Lily.

But this wasn’t what had retained most of your attention. There was no point in lying but you had hated the way you'd loved hearing Charles refer to you as the person he loved.

I just miss your accent and your friends

It happened once. Between their infamous encounter which had led to Charles starting to write Cherry and the day he finished the song, you and Charles had only talked once. 

You had broken up more than two years ago and yet, you couldn’t say that you were over Charles. It would’ve been safer to just say that you'd just learned to live without him. But you'd gotten pretty good at it. It struck you sometimes at night and you would find yourself crying in your pillow. But then, you were able to go on for days and weeks without thinking about Charles. Things still reminded you of what you had shared but it did not make you automatically cry anymore. It was pretty much like learning how to live with a missing limb. You can live without it, sometimes you can even forget that it’s not there, but somehow it always feels like something should be here and isn’t. 

That’s what you tried to explain to Alex as you were heading for the bar in which Carlos and Pierre were waiting for you. All of you had met while filming the movie Carlos directed. Alex, Pierre and you starred in it as well as Charles who also created the soundtrack. You all got awards for it. 

“You guys are so late it should be illegal.” Pierre said as he tried to look annoyed. His face almost immediately broke into a smile. “I’m glad to see you.”

You laughed as you sat down next to him, a pint of beer already waiting on the table. “We all know it’s because of Alex.”

"Shut it, Y/L/N."

“Well, at least, you’re not as late as Charles. He’s the worst.”

Your eyes went wide hearing Charles. Except for Alex, none of the boys knew how hard it was for you to get through this breakup. They all believed you when you swore to be over him. You couldn’t blame them for inviting him, you just had to play pretend. “Oh, erm… I didn’t know he was coming tonight, I-I thought he was still in Monaco.”

It was Pierre who had told you that Charles was now splitting his time between the two cities and you had felt a sort of relief mixed with this silly feeling of regretting the way things had become. 

“Oh no, he’s not. Speaking of the devil !”

You didn’t even have to raise your eyes to feel Charles' gaze planted on you. Yet you did and for a minute, as your eyes crossed, it felt like there was no one else but the two of you in the entire pub. He was still as beautiful as ever, just like you remembered him to be, but something had changed. Charles was no longer the young man you'd known, he’d grown into a real man and was now entering his golden age. It saddened you to realise that you were both evolving without the other one to witness the changes but it quickly faded away as you felt your stomach twisting with desire. 

“God, I missed you guys !” Charles almost cried after breaking eye contact with you, something that seemed to have cost him an effort.

You internally thanked your friends for being so chatty. The night had been going on for a while now without requiring too much effort from you. You mostly drank, comfortably seated in the settee and squeezed between Pierre and Carlos. You also tried to discreetly check Charles out, though you weren’t really sure your glances had gone unnoticed. You couldn’t resist it. It felt so weird to see him, just a couple of metres away from you. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.” God, you hated unisex bathrooms. His green eyes met yours through the mirror. His cheeks were a bit reddish and you couldn’t say if it was because you were here or it simply resulted from the heat of the pub.

“You mean, here as in the toilettes, sorry, in the bathroom or here in the pub ?” You knew he was tipsy from the casualness of his voice. Charles squinted as your gaze took an inquisitive look. “Are you mad at me ? For coming ?”

“I”m not.” A sigh escaped your mouth. The water was still running from the tap. “What are you doing here, Charles ?” 

“I don’t know.” You were now side by side.

“I had forgotten about this you know, the way you squeeze French words in the middle of sentences. It's funny, I guess I just miss your accent and that, being there with our friends.” You could imagine the heat of Charles' skin and the way his lips would feel if he kissed you just right here. You shook you head ; Charles wasn't the only one affected by alcohol but you weren’t just tipsy, you were completely drunk. 

“Oh, really.” He was trying not to sound unsettled, you knew it. “Is that your way of saying that you just miss me ?”

You chuckled and his green eyes sparkled. “You get to choose, Charlie. Is that your way of telling me you’re missing me too ?”

You hated the way you had missed the taste of Charles' lips and how his hands clung to you body when you kissed. The water was still running from the tap. 

[...]

“Did you like it ?” Charles is literally glowing under the Monégasque sun. His skin is a little tanned and you love how weak in the knees it makes you feel. You're in his garden, drinking beers and smoking. The sky is so blue it seems endless. You love the way it feels like summer. 

“What are you talking about ?” Charles' hand strokes you bare arm gently as you're laying on the grass. You're so relaxed you're not even thinking about the hours you spent crying on the plane. Your eyes are still reddish and puffy, though. 

“Cherry. Did you like it ? I mean, you obviously cried but I hope it is because you regret boycotting me during all these years.” 

“I hated it.” You answer, eyes closed. You can feel Charles' body shifting. He’s now looking at you from upon you guess since you feel his breath crashing on your face. “As much as I hate you.” You add, smiling. 

This time, it’s Charles who kisses you. You love how there’s nothing to hate.

#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #reader insert #alternate universe #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine