#mom cœur

[pucksandpower]

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?

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[love-belle]

and at every table, i'll save you a seat !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which once again, the fans speculate that they broke up but they're better than that and better than ever.

or

for when you're gonna spend your life laughing with them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - im gonna cry tumblr deleted THIS AHISKAKSJSKAKAKAKWK anyway i hope u like this i love u sm <3

≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 877,415 others

yourusername best believe i'm still bejeweled

8,628 comments

username see now i got ptsd WHAT DOES THE CAPTION MEAN

username need her to psychoanalyse the caption for us bc that's the only way im keeping calm

username mom???? where dad????

francisca.cgomes a diamond's gotta shine

*liked by yourusername*

username silently dying in the corner until she posts a post saying "ILYSMSMSMSMSM" for charles bc yes im THAT traumatised

username taylor swift needs to ban her from listening to her music

≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

*yourusername added to their instagram stories*

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,627,288 others

charles_leclerc mon amour ma via mon cœur ( my love my life my heart )

tagged yourusername

18,623 comments

username THEY'RE MARRIED ��😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username MY parents

username you're laughing. they just trolled us for the third time and you're laughing.

danielricciardo don't remember much of last night but london rules

-> charles_leclerc mate the wedding was in monte carlo

-> danielricciardo really?

username SOBBING

yourusername je t'aime

-> charles_leclerc moi aussi, je t'aime

yourusername future milf n dilf

-> charles_leclerc absolutely

username brb js gonna check if the toaster is waterproof or not

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, maxverstappen1 and 2,127,829 others

yourusername at every table i'll save u a seat LOVERRRRR

tagged charles_leclerc

17,982 comments

username mama y papa

username LOVER ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username tearing up i feel like i watched them grow up

charles_leclerc thank you, chérie ❤️

*liked by yourusername*

charles_leclerc forever with you 😘

-> yourusername doesn't sound too bad 💌

username i'll be telling my kids about this

landonorris come and pick me up from london pls

-> yourusername no

-> landonorris fuck you

username lando and daniel are in london when the wedding in MONACO whatcthefuck

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc instagram au

[vagabond-umlaut]

mine? yes, mine.

▸ each fic in this series is connected, but can be read as a stand-alone too! :)) ▸ please don't spam like and reblog! enjoy reading! <3 ▸ masterlist

⁕ six seeds, like rubies... ... and the flowers find themselves blooming in decay... (trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; inspired by hades & persephone)

⁕ tryst, too tempest Icarus fell for loving the Sun. You will, for loving your lover. (trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; inspired by 'hades & persephone' and 'fall of icarus')

⁕ affaire de cœur Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is. (trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; gallons of domestic fluff; hints of spicy times)

⁕ l'heure bleue Ferocious, fearsome, infallible. The King Of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, has never fought a war he hasn't won. But, does that mean he'll taste success in this battle of beliefs, raging against no one but his Queen, as well? (trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff & humor; spoiler alert— would-be-dad!sukuna x would-be-mom!reader)

⁕ ruby, one baker's dozen Winter mornings are meant to be whiled away in the silent comfort of one's blankets— a rule the feared King of Curses knows and follows— or must one say, he knows and desperately wishes to follow, but alas! (trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; SLEEPY LOVING & CUDDLING; you & 'kuna have two adorable menaces as your twin babies)

⁕ cauterize; cicatrize Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again. (ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he has no vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; fluff & angst & humor; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader)

#only i can reblog this. thanks! <3 #kit lists her series 📃

[the-offside-rule]

Drivers while their s/o studies

Just a mini series I felt like doing. : )

Charles Leclerc

Charles smiled as he entered the room, holding a tray with snacks and coffee for Y/n who had been sitting at her desk since that morning. "Hello mom cœur, I thought you might need a little pick-me-up while you work." He said, placing the tray on the table. Y/n looked up from her laptop, a grateful smile forming. "Oh what would I do without you?" She said as she held his face and peppered soft kisses onto it as he emptied the tray onto the desk. "Cry, maybe." He joked.

Charles sat down beside her and began eating a protein bar before Y/n continued on typing. "How's it going anyway?" he asked, genuinely interested. "It's a bit overwhelming, but I'll manage. Your snacks will definitely help." She replied, taking a sip of the coffee. Charles chuckled. "I believe in you. I'll leave you to it for a bit, though. I'm going to meet Lorenzo and Arthur in the gym. You know how it is."

Y/n nodde. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be here when you get back." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out. "Take breaks, okay? Don't overwork yourself." He reminded her. "Of course, love. Have fun and give them my best!" As he left, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The small gestures made studying a lot more enjoyable, and she felt lucky to have Charles by her side.

Max Verstappen

Max woke up to an empty bed, the confusion evident on his face. Rubbing his eyes, he ventured into the living room, where he found Y/n engrossed in her laptop. Y/n spotted him from the corner of her eye and smiled at his sleepy face. "Morning, sleepyhead. Slept well?" She teased, looking up from her work. Max chuckled, and walked over to her. "Yeah, until I realized I was all alone." He placed a kiss atop of her head and peered over her shoulder. "What are you up to?"

"Got an assignment to finish, but you can keep me company." She suggested with a smile. Max raised an eyebrow. "Company? I was expecting a romantic morning, not a work session." Y/n laughed, "Well, I can't help it. University." He rolled his eyes. "I told you, you should have just gave in to being a stay-at-home girlfriend and now here we are with you leaving me I'm bed to work." Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke. "Well if you loved me you would sit right here with me and keep me company, like a good temporary stay-at-home boyfriend?" Undeterred, Max decided to make the best of the situation. "Fine, but how about some breakfast first? I'll cook."

As Max prepared breakfast, they bantered back and forth, the kitchen filled with laughter. Sitting down on the sofa with their plates, Max linked his phone to the TV and began watching his race upcoming debrief that Red Bull had sent him. Y/n glanced at the screen every so often, finding it unbelievably distracting and whilst he had to watch it for work, why couldn't he just watch it on his phone?"Mind turning that off? I need to focus." Max pouted playfully. "Aw, come on. It's just background noise." She shook her head, "No, it's distracting. I need to concentrate."

A minor disagreement ensued, but Max, ever the compromiser, reached a resolution. "Fine, wear these," he said, handing her a pair of headphones. "You study, I watch my debrief." Y/n huffed, taking the headphones, "Deal. Just don't complain if I fail my exam because of this." Max grinned. "Deal, as long as you promise we actually so something romantic later on." Y/n grinned and connected her headphones to the laptop and began playing her music.

Lando Norris

Lando was deep into his online stream, enthusiastically commentating on his latest race in the virtual world. Meanwhile, Y/n diligently studied in the living room, trying to concentrate despite the growing noise. At first, it was fine because he only had Max on a voice call and then they started playing the F1 games and inviting drivers, and it all went to chaos.

The usual loudness was just about starting to sound normal until she heard a loud screeching from the streaming room. Y/n finally reached her limit. She threw her laptop to the side and stormed into the streaming room, wearing a bitter expression. Lando turned, smiling before the smile turned into a grim look. He...was...fucked. "Hi babe." He said quietly. "Lando, could you please keep it down a bit? I'm trying to study out here." She said calmly. She didn't want fans making up rumours about an argument.

Lando, still wearing his headset, looked guilty. "I will try, but Max is-" She cut him off. "Lando, you will be quiet. I cannot fail these exams. I just need you to be quiet. Understood?" He nodded. "I'm sorry, babe. I got carried away. I'll tone it down." The serious expression turned to a light hearted smile, before she looked to the computer, smiled and waved to greet the chat, before leaving.

Lando continued on playing, listening to the chaos on the call and not acting up. But the guilt lingered, and he suddenly had to leave the stream momentarily. "Hey, guys? I'll be right back. Just need to grab a drink, I'll be back in a sec. Promise." He announced to his fellow drivers and viewers before leaving the room. He rushed to the kitchen, returning to the living room with a peace offering of snacks and energy drinks for his girlfriend who sat on her bean bag with her study sheets sprawled across the coffee table. She looked up quickly before looking back to her work and continuing on typing. "I'm really sorry, Y/n. Here, I got you some goodies. Let me make it up to you." Lando said, kneeling down beside her and leaving a small plate of biscuits and sweets beside her. She looked between the plate and Lando, seeing the sincerity in his expression before she chuckled, accepting the snacks. "You're lucky you're cute when you're sorry. Just try to keep it down, okay?"

"Okay, I promise." He said, pecking her cheek and running back to the livestream with his can of Monster. Back in the streaming room, Lando continued his broadcast. He scrolled through the chat, noticing a comment from Y/n.

Thanks for the biccies, lovey <3 Good luck with your stream!

His fans erupted in supportive comments, finding the situation adorable. Lando couldn't help but smile, covering his face from how hard he was blushing. "You better leave me some 9f them biscuits, Y/n." Lando said into the camera. "Let's get back to the race, shall we?" The stream continued, with a more considerate Lando and a grateful Y/n watching from the sidelines.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

As the creatures and people of Madrid lay asleep in their beds, Y/n sat on her laptop working away beside her boyfriend who had just come back from a race weekend on the other side of the globe. Carlos stirred in his sleep, as the soft glow of Y/n's laptop pierced the darkness. "What are you doing?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Y/n glanced at him, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Sorry, babe. Got a deadline. Can't sleep." He sighed, and turned his back so he would be able to get even a glimpse of sleep. "Alright, just keep it down, please." He whispered. "Yes sir, Mr Sainz." She yawns, still typing.

In the morning, Carlos awoke to Y/n still typing away in their bed, exhaustion evident in her eyes. She got a lot of work done and had work in three hours. "Morning." He whispered, kissing her hand before sitting up. "Morning. Did you sleep alright?" Y/n asked. "Other than that one time you woke me, yes. Did you sleep at all?" Carlos asked. Y/n shook her head. "You should get some sleep before work. Finish this when you get home, yeah?" Y/n sighed in defeat. She wouldn't be able to go to work if she was this tired. Maybe a two hour sleep wouldn't hurt? " Carlos nodded, taking her laptop, placing it on the bedside table and tucking her into bed, . "You need to rest." He insisted. "I will wake you before work, mi amor." She reassured her, kissing her hair and letting her fall asleep.

When Y/n awoke, she looked out to see that the sun was awfully bright for 8am. Then she turned and saw Carlos walking into the room with a tray of coffee and toast. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked, sitting up. Carlos paused and looked at her. "Breakfast?" He replied in a question. Y/n looked at her phone, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! It's half past 11. I'm so fucking late!" She said. "No you aren't." Carlos replied, placing the tray on his locker. "I had work two hours ago!" She protested.

Carlos shook his head. "I called your boss, said you were sick." Y/n's eyes widened to what he had said. "Why'd you do that?" She asked. "Because you needed it." He replied, pulling the duvet over them and putting his arm around Y/n. "Carlos, I cant-" He cut her off. "Should we watch Berlín? It's meant to be really good." He said, flicking through the Netflix. "Babe. I'm serious. I need to go to work." She said. "And I have said before; you could quit work and I'll take care of you. You won't quit but I am still gonna take care of you. Now stay with me in bed and help me pick a series for us to watch."

She stopped complaining and lay in his arms. "Yeah. Berlín sounds good." She mumbled quietly. "Good, now here's some toast."

George Russell

George had brought Y/n to race weekends before, but this time, she found herself confined to the team's hospitality area, engrossed in her upcoming exams. She looked up to the TV evey so often to see how her boyfriend was doing before turning her attention back to her laptop. Like an angel sent, George decided to check in on her in between sessions, finding her buried in textbooks and notes.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, pressing a kiss onto her head and leaning on the table. Y/n looked up, tired but determined. "Just trying to survive this study session. Well done on topping the session by the way." George grinned. "It's only the second practise. I think we know what strategy we're going for in qualifying though." He chuckled. "Have you eaten?" Y/n thinks for a moment and shakes her head. "You do know, you need to eat too."

She sighed, burying her head in her hands from exhaustion. "I know, I just lost track of time. Can you grab me something?" George smiled. "Of course." He replied, leaving momentarily and heading to the barista bar. He returned moments later with a croissant and a latte, placing them in front of her. "Fuel for the brain." he said with a smile. Y/n looked up at him appreciatively, "You're my hero, Mr Russell. Thank you so much."

"No problem. I know how important these exams are for you." He replied, sitting beside her. As she sipped the latte and nibbled on the croissant, George and her began talking. "Anything I can help with? Maybe a quick break to clear your mind?" Y/n smiled. "You being here is already a huge help. But maybe a motivational speech wouldn't hurt."

"Im not doing motivational speeches." They both burst into laughter, lightening the mood in the cozy hospitality space. George wrapped his arm around Y/n, offering comfort and support. "You're the best distraction," she admitted, leaning into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Lance Stroll

Lance sighed as he opened the door to his bedroom after his return from the gym to find Y/n looking a bit frustrated. He arched a brow as he sipped from his water bottle and decided to approach her, concern evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, babe?" He asked, sitting down beside her. She sighed. "I'm not sure, but I just can't study. Maybe it's just because of how different it is from studying in my office back home." Lance thought for a moment."How about you use my office? It's quiet, and you'll have all the space you need." He suggested. "Oh no, I couldn't." She replied. "No, seriously. I never use it anyway."

Y/n's face lit up with gratitude as Lance led her to his office. The room was filled with shelves displaying Lance's collection of racing helmets and trophies. The large floor-to-ceiling window revealed a breathtaking snowy landscape of their estate. "This is perfect." Y/n whispered, finding the desk facing the wonderous view. Lance smiled, happy to help her. "If you need me just call. I'm just gonna hit the shower." He said, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. "Thank you, babe." She grinned, setting her stuff down. "Anytime." He shot back before leaving and making his way to his bathroom to shower.

Y/n had gotten a lot done since she sat down. The view was a perfect distraction but not too distracting that she couldn't focus. If anything, it was there to just calm her down before getting right back to it. An hour passed, and Lance returned with snacks, finding Y/n engrossed in her studies. "Hey, how are you getting on?" He asked, peering through the door. "Doing good, Lancelot. I am doing good." She smiled, still jotting down some notes. He walked in with a tray of snacks. In between him showering and him walking around the kitchen, he decided Y/n needed to take a break and made up a snack tray to bring her.

"Need a study break?" he asked, handing her a twix. Y/n grinned, "Definitely. Thanks for this, Lance. This office is amazing." Lance chuckled, "Well, it's only fair you get a taste of my world too. Plus, I like having you happy." As they enjoyed their snacks, the conversation turned from how everyone in the house has an office to the trophies and helmets on the walls.

"You know-" Lance began, taking down his Balu trophy from back in 2017. "This one's from my first podium. I was so excited that day." Y/n smiled as she sipped her cola. "I can see why. You've got an impressive collection of trophies, Lancey." He looked at her warmly. "But none of them compare to having my trophy girlfriend. I worked my ass off to even get you on a date." Y/n laughed. "I'm serious! You kept saying no!"

"You should've taken the hint." Y/n replied. "Then who would be sat in this office?" Lance asked. "I don't know. One of those weird models that throw themselves at you, I guess." She joked. "Yeah, but I prefer you." Lance said. There grew a comfortable silence before Lamce stood up, collecting the wrappers off the snacks and putting them back onto the tray. "I guess it's time for you to get back to studying." Lance said. "Thank you for the company." Y/n smiled as Lamce leaned down to give her a kiss. "How about we watch a movie later and order takeout? Sound good?" Lance suggested. Y/n nodded. You really are a dream."

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz blurb #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen blurb #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #george russell oneshot #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell

[agendabymooner]

about names: the wingman of maranello || cl16 scenario (2)

dad!charles leclerc x mom!ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENSION OF OF LONG LINES AND NAMES AND THE LECLERC DAYCARE

PART TWO OF ABOUT NAMES SCENARIO SERIES

Summary: The Leclerc boys and their names go hand in hand. OR times when Charles and his wife Aimee had to explain that their children’s names are meaningful. 

Scenario summary: With his brothers coming down to sickness, Jules Leclerc travelled to Italy with his father and Uncle Arthur prior to his next karting event before them as he learned more about the ‘Wingman of Maranello’ — his namesake Jules Bianchi.

Content warning: FLUFF!!!!! What is beta reading we write with no sense of proper grammar or transitions, kids' sickness, heavily mentions Jules Bianchi (+ Jules being a good sport and matchmaker), feel-good vibes, OC (Teague; OFC's relative), Uncle Arthur Leclerc is quite unattentive, possible use of explicit language, poorly translated French and Italian(?)

Note: I have two papers due in the next two weeks lmao. Enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

Charles and Aimee always thought that if it hadn’t been for their jobs, their kids wouldn’t have the chance of catching a case of stomach flu from countless germs in their school. 

They were meant to travel to Italy a week before the eldest Leclerc twins’ karting tournament occurring at the track in Maranello — but it seemed like PJ Leclerc’s class had another plan in mind. Now, two days after his last class of the week, he and his brothers Hervé, Anthoine and Alain (age two) were sulking at home. 

They weren’t allowed to travel to Italy until they felt better — after all, the parents didn’t want to be running around with kids who look sickly and would probably throw up every other minute. 

Hervé, out of the four boys, took that information to heart though. He was supposed to be with his twin brother as he, too, was going to compete in the karting event — with Arthur acting as his coach. He was excited to travel with his Da and Jules, but he started showing signs of a weak stomach. 

Aimee had promised that if he got better before the race they’d be able to travel to where Charles and Jules were. It was just a translation to, “Listen to Maman and drink your tea, eat your soup and take your medicine” but they’d decided to put it in a nicer way to avoid dealing with a stubborn seven year old. 

But as Jules placed his bag down after packing up, Hervé’s scowl turned light. His face was pale, but his face showed a lot about how he felt about his twin leaving.

Neither of the parents were paying attention to the two though. Arthur was somewhere in the house, saying goodbye to his younger nephews PJ and the twins. 

“Mon cœur,” Charles started, making Aimee hum as she washed the soup bowls. There was no right time to ask his question especially if he asked his wife this but it was a shot worth taking. “Since it’s just Artie, J and I heading there for the week I’m thinking—“

“Uh oh, that’s a bad sign,” Aimee joked, now rinsing the dishes. Charles chuckled and rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter next to the sink and his wife. He proceeded with his suggestion.

“What if we took the Pista to Maranello instead?” 

It was like his world stopped. Quite literally. 

Turning off the tap, Aimee’s grin faded as she scowled heavily in the direction of her husband. Charles’s usually widened eyes shrunk small as Aimee continued to bore her eyes into his pair. 

It was a bad idea to bring up his sports car overall.

With a scoff, she then said, “I want you to say those words slowly and understand what you just said.”

“Okay…” He nodded.

“Then I want you to think about how stupid that sounds,” Aimee smiled grimly. Yikes. He was a footstep away from being banished from his own bedroom. 

“Okay,” he said regardless.

“Don’t be stupid,” Aimee warned him, “you know that the Pista isn’t for the kids.” 

“I know,” Charles told her, his voice now hitting an octave as he defended, “to be fair, I wouldn’t put the kids in your McLaren either.”

“Darling,” Aimee laughed humourlessly, “we were thinking of two different things; I thought that they shouldn’t be allowed to ride it because it’s dangerous and you said that it was a McLaren not a Ferrari. Do you get what I’m saying?” 

“Right, alright,” Charles said with a shrug, “it was just an idea.”

“An idea that isn’t even worth looking at,” Aimee shook her head, “take the Aston or something— just don’t take any of the two seater ones. Do not ever let Jules sit on Arthur’s lap on a two-seater— he has to have a seat belt, Charles. If I find out that you took either of the Pista or McLaren I will come after your head— and you’re my husband. But I won’t hesitate to be a goddamn Black Widow if—“

“Okay, geez,” Charles interrupted with a roll of his eyes, “don’t need to threaten me. Still your husband, mon cœur.”

“Not going to be anymore if you do what you just said,” Aimee gave him a smile. It was a rather threatening one, and Charles should do anything but contest what he was told. 

Meanwhile Jules stood there and awkwardly patted his brother’s head as he said, “Tu te rendras à la course, Herb.” You’ll make it to the race, Herb.

Hervé grumbled and continued to sulk, “I hope so. Tia said that Louis is going to be there. And je n'aime pas perdre contre Louis.” I don’t like to lose to Louis. 

“Eh,” Jules shrugged nonchalantly, “you know what Maman said once? Uh… don’t take it personal? Is that what she said?” 

Hervé nodded as his twin brother continued, “Louis me taquine aussi. Je m'en fiche parce que maman a dit que je ne devrais pas me soucier des gens qui se moquent de moi. Cela m'empêche seulement d'aller plus vite dans la course.” Louis teases me too. I don’t care much because Maman said I shouldn’t mind people who make fun of me. It only stops me from going faster in the race. 

Despite being a twin, one of the things that differed Jules from Hervé was his level headed trait. It wasn’t as if he never showed any form of emotion to anything worth reacting to, but he seemed to reason more than Hervé. 

Everyone around them was quick to notice this and easily pointed out that he took this rational approach from Aimee, while Hervé got his sensitivity from Charles.

Still, Jules approached things differently than his twin — and his attempt to convince Hervé to see the things he’s seeing was something that most school aged children wouldn’t do. 

“So,” Jules told Hervé, “make it to the race not because of him. Remember! Auntie Vie raced for fun! Not because she wants to fight Uncle Max!” 

“Hm,” Hervé nodded, but kept his head down nonetheless. The eldest Leclerc boy looked up and murmured, “My stomach still hurts, J.” 

“Ah, I’ll tell Maman,” Jules nodded, “why are you up if your stomach hurts anyway?” 

“Alors je peux demander à Maman si je peux venir avec vous les gars,” so I can ask Maman if I can go with you guys. Hervé grumbled, tucking his legs in his hoodie as he groaned. “Ugh.”

A four hour drive to their accommodation in Maranello and a quick trip to the Ferrari headquarters after Charles, Arthur and Jules Leclerc were found in Charles’s in-site office. Or rather, Charles was somewhere in the facility having a meeting with the PR team and Carlos while his son and brother were in his office. 

Jules kept rolling over the chair from the desk to his Uncle Arthur, growing bored of the lack of things to do inside his father’s office. Arthur was just sitting there, his eyes hovering over his phone as he continued to browse through his twitter. 

“Da should have just left me with Maman,” Jules sighed, his head slumped against Charles’s desk.

Arthur hummed, not paying full attention towards the boy as Jules sighed in annoyance. 

Arthur wasn’t paying attention to him and Jules decided to mess with him a little, “Da could just drop me off the street and let me race by myself.” 

Nothing but an utter “Mhm” escaped Arthur’s mouth. 

“I’m bored, Uncle Art.”

Still nada.

“Herb said that he should have had Auntie Vie or Uncle Max coach him instead of you.” 

It was as if Arthur got a whiplash as his mouth gaped open at the boy’s comment. “Jules, is that true?” 

Jules shrugged, “No.”

“Then why say that if it’s not true,” Arthur exclaimed and heaved a sigh dramatically, “you scared me.”

“Because I’m booooored~” Jules whined, spinning himself while he sat on the chair of his father’s office. “Da left me here with nothing!” 

“Tell you what,” Arthur started, “why don’t we take a look around the floor and see if you can find the LaFerrari car to ride in? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to let you borrow it and drive around the office.” 

“Fine~” Jules hopped off the seat, not even bothering to wait for his uncle as he ran out of the office. “Race you to Da!”

“W- Oi! Jules Lorenzo Pascal- agh, wrong- Leclerc!” Arthur grunted before he stood up and ran after the boy. “You lots have a lot of names to even call you by them- Jules! Come back! Charles has a meeting!”

The Ferrari headquarters in Maranello was, no doubt, a place that held a lot of memories for the Leclerc family. Charles’ name was engraved in the wall of fame and Aimee’s family was strongly connected to the Ferraris. Their connections to the team — one that became their family — led them to what they had now. 

Everyone inside the headquarters were fond of the Leclerc boys and Jules was no exception.

For an hour, he’d been going around the office saying hi to everyone and asking about their day — in Italian, as well, to impress them with his ability to speak more than two languages. Then he went around asking about the LaFerrari that his Uncle Arthur mentioned earlier. 

Jules gladly toured the museum with his uncle rather than finding the car he’d asked about, his eyes glimmering at the sight of Niki Lauda’s car and even Enzo Ferrari’s. When they got to Michael Schumacher’s car, however, Jules nearly jumped up and down in excitement. 

His loud excited voice caught the attention of other onlookers in the museum. It was rather funny that he was so excited, because by the time people had approached them the excitement in his features had infected the Ferrari fans as they asked Arthur for photos. 

“Oh, I’ll take the photo!” Jules offered in excitement. 

“Jules no you have to get in the picture,” Arthur kept an arm around the boy and said, “how will people know that there are two handsome Leclerc men roaming around Maranello if you’re out of the picture?” 

And find out, they did. It wasn’t even an hour after when the fans posted their photos on Twitter and became a hit tweet because of the Leclerc boy. What was funnier aside from the caption “I met Jules Leclerc with his relative today” was the result that came with it. 

Charles looked quite frazzled trying to find his kid and when the fans saw the driver they nearly freaked out. Jules merely waved at his father and said, “They said they want some pictures, Da!”

Charles sighed and smiled at the fans lightly, his eyes finding Arthur’s as he warned his brother quietly about letting Jules in the pictures.

Jules was still a child, and taking photos of him without the knowledge of either Charles or Aimee was trouble you’re asking for. 

“Jules,” Charles started as he held the boy’s hand, making their way back to the office after having some photos taken, “Do not go far from the office when Da has a meeting, alright?” 

“But I only went in the museum, Da,” Jules reasoned out, “and Uncle Artie went with me!” 

“Well I’m glad you went with someone,” Charles shrugged, “but there is someone I would like you to meet.” 

“Oh! Cool,” Jules exclaimed. “C'est le père de maman?” Is it Maman’s father? 

Charles and Arthur shared a look over Jules’ head. Yeah no.

The boys had always mentioned that they’ve never met any of their grandfathers before. They understood why their Papy Hervé was not here anymore but Aimee’s father — Julius Hearth — was still alive. How come they’ve never met them? 

“Non, mais il est proche de maman,” No but he is close to Maman. Charles replied quietly, eventually coming to a stop in front of the conference room by the Scuderia Ferrari Team Principal Fred Vasseur’s office. 

Jules stood there, expectantly looking at his father as Charles gestured to the entryway. Stepping inside without looking away from his father, Jules finally looked in front of him as his glimmering eyes turned curious. 

A man sat there. There are some signs of age in his face, but Jules could tell that he was not older than his father. The man’s smile brightened the room, the shade of his skin brightening like the sun. 

Jules looked up at Charles, who only offered him a smile before telling him to keep walking. The man stood and stuck his hand out. 

“Last time I checked, you and Aimee were still new,” the man gave a teasing look to Charles, who only chuckled. His Scottish accent piqued Jules’ interest even more.

His Maman’s accent was different from his and as he continued to think about it, his cousins’ mixture of Austrian and RP accent wasn’t like this either. He’s from a different region, Jules deduced.

The man looked down and crouched, hand still stuck out as he spoke, “My name is Teague. Teague Edmunson. And you are…?”

With a face showing a mixture of curiosity and cautiousness, Jules looked back at Charles who only gave him a go-ahead before the boy reached out to shake the hand of the man and introduced himself, “My name is Jules Leclerc.”

“Ah! Jules?” Teague smiled softly as he gave a nod of approval towards Charles’ direction. “You named him Jules?”

“Yes, we did,” Charles grinned, his hand reaching out to mess with his son’s hair.

“Seems rather fitting,” Teague teased the Ferrari driver, “the Wingman of Maranello… Ah… he made you and Aimee possible after all.”

Jules’s face scrunched up in confusion, watching how his Uncle Arthur giggled and his father’s face flush red.

It was like he missed something. He wasn’t sure what but the way his Da’s turn red told him enough about asking him about the matter later.

“I’m sorry, mister,” Jules piped up, making the men look down at him with questioning looks. He proceeded to look at the man who introduced himself as Teague and asked, “My Da said that you know my Maman well. Can I ask what you are to her?”

“Jules,” Arthur called, “do you know one of your Maman’s last names?”

The boy shook his head, making Teague laugh quietly and answer with, “Edmunson, Little Bianchi.”

“You said that is your name,” Jules pointed out, making Teague nod. “So… if Maman’s name is Edmunson then you are her… brother?”

“Well… Not quite,” Teague shook his head before elaborating, “I’m her cousin. Don’t tell me your Maman had never spoken much of me? Charles?”

“Yes we have,” Charles scoffed. But all Jules seemed to have heard was that the man in front of him was his mother’s cousin. Then he recalled that one time he went browsing through his Maman’s childhood photo album.

He saw his aunts in those photos and even his Uncles Max and Lando. He knew that some of them grew up together, but there was one person that Jules once pointed out and it was a boy with a darker shade of skin and curly hair. The boy that he saw was sitting next to his Maman. 

Suddenly it all made sense to him. Aimee once introduced him to the photo of this boy as…

“You are Uncle T.”

Jules came to a conclusion, his lips spreading into a grin as it infected the whole room. 

“Yes, I am your Uncle T!” Teague confirmed, nodding eagerly. “Gah! I thought Aimee and Charles had forgotten about me. Or even your uncle Arthur!”

“I’d never forget about you, T,” Arthur scoffed.

Jules then turned to Arthur and said, “Uncle Arthur, you cannot even remember my full name! You have put my Pascal first before Blaise!”

“Ahhh, Arthur~” Charles gasped dramatically and looked at his younger brother. Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I forgot about it once this noon and little Bianchi considers me a criminal for it,” Arthur muttered. “You and your Da, J. You like to give me a heart attack.” 

He stood next to his father while they both brushed their teeth, getting ready to go to bed for the next day. 

Jules had spent his day with Fred Vasseur and his Uncle Teague. It turned out that Teague was to work as an engineer at Ferrari after years of working at some firm in Luxembourg.

From what Jules learned, Teague never had the chance to visit Jules and his brothers due to his work commitments. Now, he’s had every chance to— and he did make sure that his time was well spent. 

“Da,” Jules spoke after rinsing his mouth, hearing a hum from Charles as he glanced at the older Leclerc. “On reverra l'oncle Teague?” Will we see Uncle Teague again? 

“Oui,” Charles murmured as he continued to brush his teeth. He spat the contents of his mouth and rinsed his mouth before he answered his son, “He will be there for your race, Jules.” 

“Ah,” Jules nodded in understanding. Silence was shared between the Leclerc boys before Jules asked, “Est-il proche de Maman?” Is he close to Maman?

“Very,” Charles nodded, “but he is not your Maman’s best friend though. He was…” 

Jules Leclerc, if you were to compare him to his twin and the rest of his brothers, was good at reading expressions. He could just tell that Charles wanted to tell him something but refuses to.

Jules always told himself that his Da got the look that his brother Hervé had whenever he was in the verge of crying or breaking down, and this was no exception.

So rather than bringing up the situation Jules went ahead and said, “Da, pourquoi l'oncle T a-t-il dit que mon nom correspondait?” Da, why did Uncle T say that my name is fitting? 

Charles’s expression changed as he snapped his head towards the direction of his son. “What do you mean?”

“I do not know,” Jules said before he tried to recall the events earlier, “he said uh… Il m'a appelé quelque chose… W- wingman?” He called me something.

“Ah,” Charles chuckled, shaking his head lightly before he grabbed the brush from the sink alongside a hair tie. He stepped behind Jules and began brushing the boy’s hair back. “The Wingman of Maranello.” 

“Oui! That!” Jules exclaimed, wincing lightly when he moved and his dad tugged on his hair lightly. Charles muttered an apology before Jules continued, “What does that mean?” 

“Uh… so,” Charles tried to speak but he couldn’t help but focus on the detangling brush on his hand as he continued to brush Jules’ damp hair. “Do you know- Maman t'a-t-elle parlé de la Saint-Valentin?” Did Maman tell you about Valentine’s Day? Jules nodded as Charles explained, “There is something called a Cupid. Now, Cupid— he matches people with others. To find someone to love.”

“Maman said that! She said that Cupid helped you and Maman!” Jules said as his eyes glimmered at the thought of Cupid doing their work— a masterpiece that the boy called his Maman and Da. 

“Yeah, well you see,” Charles chuckled, “long before Maman and I got together with the help of Cupid, we had something called the wingman. It’s someone who encourages you to talk to the person that you like.”

“Like Cupid?”

“Pretty much, but Cupid just helps people get together and love stronger,” Charles shrugged, “the wingman, in this case, helped me discover my love for your Maman more.” 

Charles smiled to himself. He remembered it vividly. 

BACK THEN

It turns out, being a student and a godson of a test driver — who was best friends with a stakeholder’s cousin — could lead him to a party at the Ferrari headquarters… and to her. 

Teague chuckled quietly before nudging Jules Bianchi slightly, earning a scowl from the Frenchman as he followed Teague’s line of sight, smirking lightly as Charles Leclerc — at the age of fifteen — blushed furiously and walked away from the golden skinned girl.

When the girl was out of their sight, Jules whistled as if to tease the boy. Charles gave Jules a glare as Teague laughed.

“Come on, Shal,” Jules grinned lopsidedly before he wrapped his arm around the Monegasque. “I think you should talk to her.”

“I already did,” Charles tried to shove Jules away from him, but the Frenchman was stronger than him as Jules laughed.

“Not that,” Jules shook his head, “maybe someday she’ll be your girlfriend~~”

“Jules, shhh-“ Charles hissed. 

“Careful now, Wingman of Maranello,” Teague piped up, “you might give my aunt a heart attack with all of your matchmaking.”

“I’ve done an alright job so far, don’t you think, T?” Jules winked at his best friend. “I’m sure your Aunt Amara wouldn’t mind having a handsome Monegasque for a son-in-law. It worked out so well with you and your girlfriend!

“Now Shal! Promise your best godfather Jules that you’d ask her out one of these days, hm? I’d be damned if you let go of a smart girl like her.” 

NOW

“So if I’m called Jules and he was your Uncle Jules… does that mean I get to play matchmaker too?”

Charles laughed aloud, finally tying his son’s hair into a bun before he wrapped his arms around his boy. 

“Why not,” Charles rolled his eyes before pressing kisses on his son’s face. “You can do whatever you want, little Bianchi. Just not anything that will send your Da or Maman to the hospital, hm?” 

Jules sighed contentedly, resting against his father’s chest as he looked at himself and his dad in the vanity. He then smiled and said, “I hope Hervé gets better before the race. Then Uncle T can see me and him race.” 

“I hope so, too, Jules,” Charles sighed quietly, patting his son on the shoulder before nudging the boy towards the direction of their bedroom. “Now off we go. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Will I drive the LaFerrari this time, Da?”

“If your Zio Fred has someone to find it for you, then yes. Perhaps don’t crash around the office. It’s a busy day tomorrow.”

“Uh… okay. Maybe I can make that promise.”

“You can promise? So silly of you, Jules.”

#formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #formula one fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #formula one dad #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x oc #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #formula 1 fluff #formula one fluff #formula one au #charles leclerc au #f1 au #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc story

[stateofcharles]

baby just say yes - PG10

pairing: Pierre Gasly x female!reader

word count: ~ 4,1k

warnings: fluff, light angst, insecurity, French GP 2022

summary: 4 times Pierre jokes about marrying you + 1 time he’s serious about it

a/n: heavily inspired by Pierre’s late wedding fever, i couldn’t just sit and stare i mean- you know pierre if you wanna get married i happily volunteer. title of course from ‘love story’ by the queen taylor 

2006, age 10

You and Pierre were at your house, sat on your bed, spending your time between watching old races on old CDs and eating the cookies your mum had made that morning. You didn’t love F1 as much as your best friend did but you knew that watching that made him happy, so you were willing to sacrifice your freetime if that meant seeing Pierre’s joyful face. 

“Are you coming to my race next sunday?” he asked shyly suddenly while you were watching Michael Schumacher clenching his first WDC. You looked at him dismayed and his face darkened when he realised what it meant. 

“Pierre-” you tried to ponder your words because you didn’t want him to feel bad, “I’d like to but my parents want me to eat with them for their wedding anniversary,” you pouted, “but I swear I don’t want to go with them.”

“Then why do you go?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Because it’s like- a special one? I don’t know why. I know it’s 25 years and it is something silver and then they want a big celebration.” you replied.

“Silver?” his face was even more confused than before.

“Yeah, and it’s a big one. There’ll be many people from my family there, even that grumpy, old aunt Albertine,” you snorted, “the one who wants me to become a ballerina.”

Pierre’s eyes widened, “The one whose shoes we filled with your dad’s shaving cream at your mum’s party?”

You started laughing so loud that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound, “Yeah! That one! I really can’t stand her!”

Pierre hummed as he tapped his knee with his finger, he was clearly thinking. “Do you think you’ll get married one day?” You stared at him wild-eyed and he blushed, the question was clearly something big. The boy just hoped his crush for you hadn’t filtered through his words and face. 

“I don’t know,” you answered sheepishly, “I want to wear the white dress one day like my mom’s, but I don’t know if I will meet a boy that I like so much. Maybe I will be alone forever like my aunt Albertine.” You shrugged; in the end you were a kid and maybe that question was too huge for a 10-year-old

“Oh god, don’t say that cœur! You’re much better than your aunt! And if you won’t find anyone then I’ll marry you.” he stated and his face was painted with self-confidence.

You laughed at his sentence and the boy looked at you half-offended. “Are you laughing at me?” he said in disbelief.

You put your hand in front of your mouth, “Non Pierre, but- we’re best friends! It’s weird! You shouldn’t marry your best friend!”

He crossed his arms at his chest, “Ok then, Charles is my new best friend if you think this about me.” He was holding a grudge, but you could see that he was actually holding his laugh.

“We’ll talk about this when you’ll be back to me asking again to be my best friend after Charles will annoy you with all his talking.” you answered back sticking out your tongue. Pierre started laughing and you threw yourself at his chest to hug him.

2012, age 16

“My sister is getting married.” You snorted as you entered Pierre’s bedroom, sitting not-so-graciously on his rolling chair; it started spinning as soon as you did that, and your snorts only grew louder.

“Well hello to you too cœur, it’s nice to see you so happy.” Pierre was holding his laugh at seeing you so upset.

“I’m not in the mood today Pear, drop it.” you muttered rubbing your hands against your face. You couldn’t believe it was really happening. You believed your sister, out of all the people out there, would be the last one to decide to spend her life with just one person. 

“It’s so frustrating, like- Eloise will be divorced in six months at most, it’s crystal clear she doesn’t love Bernard, even maman says that! Almost no one likes him in our family.” You crossed your arms angrily, the lump in your throat was growing bigger and bigger. 

“But why does everyone hate him so much? He seems like a nice guy after all and-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before you interrupted him.

“NICE? PIERRE HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?!” you shouted, “Like- have you seen him? Have you ever been with him for a couple of hours? He’s so full of himself, he always talks about that stupid job he does, his studies and other bullshit he does. And he is extremely sexist. Did you know he said that once my sister marries him she’ll be like his personal maid, because she’s younger than him and her degree is inferior?” As you were talking, Pierre’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“Well maybe you’re right.” he scratched the back of his head, “He’s kind of a dickhead” he paused for a while, “but then why’s your sister marrying him?” he questioned.

“Who knows what’s going on inside her head” you grumbled. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “you’ll have to go to this wedding anyway, she’s your sister and you can’t miss it.” 

“Ok mister, then tell me what should I do because Eloise even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! And I have to bring someone with me as well! Could it be any worse?” You grunted, that was really a shitty situation.

“Well, bring me then.” He said nonchalantly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You? Why should I choose you?” You asked mockingly, he had that usual grin printed on his face, a blend of cockiness and joke.

“Alright then, first I am incredibly charming - don’t interrupt me Y/N, it’s true -, second your mum loves me as a son and last but not least I am your best friend, so you won’t get annoyed listening to that dickhead’s rambling.” As he finished his speech he looked quite proud of himself, like he had just found the solution to all the problems in the world. 

“Maybe I could consider it,” you hummed, “but if you’re so charming as you say you’ll be stealing all the attention of the guests, won’t you?” you teased him. 

“I won’t be the only one, that’s for sure cœur.” He smiled warmly at you, “you’ll be there with me and we will be stealing all attention. We’ll be envied even by the newlyweds, we’ll be the star of the event.” 

You noticeably blushed at his words, this kind of attention was weird for you to receive even after all those years of being friends with Pierre, who was a natural casanova. 

“Then ok I guess,” you spoke sheepishly, “we’ll go together but one condition first: you’ll be obliged to get me out of the embarrassing conversation with my relatives, because I don’t want to put up with another interrogation from uncle Patrick and his wife.” 

Pierre replied in the same ‘I-don’t-accept-a-no’ tone, “Deal, but you’ll have to go in the girls crowd when your sister will throw the bouquet.” The devilish grin on his face didn’t bode well, at all.

“Why? I mean- it’s senseless.” You hid your face in your hands, that was becoming awkward. 

“I don’t know, it’s funny and you’ll be blushing the whole time.” God he was such a brat sometimes.

“I wonder why I’m still friends with you,” you murmured, “And then who will I marry if I catch it?” You teased him.

“Me, what a question cœur, I’m the perfect man, everyone would want me.” He said defiantly while he smiled.

When you started laughing he couldn’t help but do the same. Even if he was a little dumb sometimes he was still your best friend, the person you trusted the most in the whole world, and you knew he would never let you down. 

2015, age 19

It was another night you spent at Pierre’s place, a normal night just hanging out with your best friend. You had just finished watching Beauty and the Beast, your favourite film, and Pierre was teasing you, as usual.

“I just can’t understand why, cœur. I mean- you’re 19! You’re almost an adult and a cartoon is your favourite film? That’s weird as hell.” He complained.

“Ok Pierre, now listen to me: it’s not a normal cartoon, it’s the cartoon. And besides there’s no way you can dislike it, it’s pure perfection. And I’m not a kid,” you sticked your tongue out, “I can be a grown-up and still like cartoons, there’s no rule that prohibits it.” You crossed your arms with a pout on your face.

“Ok cœur, but don’t be offended!” He laughed, that brat! He loved mocking you.

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re my best friend” you muttered, but he had heard you and a smirk appeared on his mouth. He looked straight into your eyes before answering.

“Do I really have to answer? Ok then, I’m beautiful, talented, funny, unique, charming, should I keep going on?” He smiled amused.

“God, you’re such a kid sometimes Pierre.” You shook your head, he was a gone case.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway and I’m your bestest of friends.” He got closer to hug you and you hid your head in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly you heard the timer ringing, “Muffins are ready Pear!” you untangled from his arms to go to the oven. You wore the kitchen gloves before opening it, then you pulled off the moulds with your creations.

“Tadaa!” You placed it on the kitchen table and slowly started positioning the pastries on the dish you had left on it. Your idea was to form a flower with the muffins, but before you could finish Pierre quickly stole one and took a bite of it. He sat on a chair and started unwrapping the muffin from his case.

“Pierre!” you shouted, “I haven't finished yet! C’mon, you always have to ruin it!” you whined, but he was half-moaning while chewing the pastry. 

“Jeez Y/N, these are for real the best muffins you have ever baked!” He patted his tummy, “You truly are a woman to marry!” He leant back, relaxing on the backrest with his hands intertwined behind his head. 

“Seriously Pierre? Again?” You put your hands on your waist, leaning in to be closer to him. “I thought you had learnt the lesson”

“Oh Y/N stop, it’s not time for your feminist sermon, I know that: women don’t necessarily have to get married, they can be single and happy and they don’t have to stay in the kitchen because they can do much more, I know it.” He looked at you, falsely-annoyed, but deep down he was glady you were as you were, so strong in your beliefs and not afraid of saying things out loud. 

He leant towards you to place a kiss on your cheek, before coming back to sit on the chair, “Anyway I’m not joking Y/N, whoever is going to marry you is going to be very lucky, you aren’t just a fantastic chef, but you truly are a beautiful person both inside and outside as well.” He smiled sheepishly.

I wish I was that person, so much he thought, I want to be that lucky to wait for you at the end of the aisle, to see you in a white dress and to make you the love of my life.

But those thoughts were secrets, something the boy kept in the deepest corner of his heart, something he wasn’t ready to say out loud, yet. Deep inside he hoped the day would come sometime, the flame in his soul was still burning, for you and you only ever since the first day the two of you met.

2018, age 22

Half-asleep, you whined when you felt your boyfriend shifting from under you. You tried to stop him but you were still too numb to put enough strength.

“Pear” you whimpered, “come back here” you stretched out your arm to call him.

“Sorry cœur, someone’s at the door” from his voice you could sense he was still sleepy. You then heard him thank the delivery guy before shutting the door loudly.

“Mhh Pierre no, silence” you threw over your head one of the cushions but he was quick to take it off.

“Non cœur, now you have to see this” he grabbed your arm to lift you up until you were then sitting straight. You rubbed your eyes to focus on your boyfriend, who was now very awake, smiley and holding in his arms a big, large bouquet of red roses. You widened your pupils, now completely, shockingly conscious. 

“What’s that Pear?” You asked, tears building up, and then realisation hit you. “OH NO I- I’m sorry P, I forgot it was today and I didn't buy you anything but I was so busy with university and then my sister-” you were rambling and Pierre suddenly started laughing. A pout showed on your face, “PIERRE DON’T LAUGH” you half-shouted.

“It’s fine cœur, no worries, and also-” a devilish grin adorned his lips, “I think what we did before was quite a gift” he pointed at his bare chest and at you only wearing panties and his oversized hoodie.You blushed, but he kept going on, “But anyway, happy second anniversary baby. 24 roses for 24 months together.” He leant in to place a kiss on your lips.

A couple of tears escaped your control and before you knew you were openly crying, whilst Pierre still had that smug smile on his face. He placed the bouquet on the table before cuddling against you, leaving a trail of kisses on your cheeks and then moving onto your neck. “Happy anniversary Pear, I am so lucky to have you with me” you murmured to him, squeezing him closer to you and hiding your head in the crook of his neck.

“Cœur really don’t worry about your present, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re still here with me” he stated, looking straight into your eyes.

You cracked a smile and you took his hands in yours, “Were you afraid I would escape?” you cupped his face, “You know that - even if I wanted - I wouldn’t be able to leave you?”

“Well you don’t know that,” he lowered his head, “what if one day you get tired of me?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying, was he really so filled with doubts? What had you done to cause him such worries?

“Pear, have I done something wrong by accident? Is there something you’re hiding from me?” You were craving for an answer but at the same time you were afraid of it. You didn’t want your anniversary day to be also your break-up day, moreover with the love of your life, the boy you had had a crush on ever since childhood - as much as you were trying to deny it at that time.

“It’s nothing cœur, but-” he mused, “sometimes I see other drivers break up with their girlfriends because they’re away for so long and something inevitably happens and-” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t bear my routine anymore.” He lowered his head, as if he felt guilty.

“No baby, nonono, don’t ever think this again please,” you lifted his head delicately, “I would never do it Pierre, I swear, I- it was me who chose to be by your side, I knew what I was putting myself into two years ago,” some tears spilled from his eyes whilst you were trying your best to hold yours back, “I love you so much Pear, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You lifted yourself a bit and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “This whole distance thing is part of the package, I bought the whole ‘Pierre package’ two years ago and I don’t actually mean to bring it back.” You chuckled lightly, trying to raise the mood of the moment; that really wasn’t how you wanted to spend your anniversary, seeing Pierre that upset and demoralised.

“You’re not calling customer support then?” A little smile, good, his humour was slowly coming back.

“Nope,” you lingered on the P, “and I’m not escaping now, I’m staying here with you.” You kissed him deeply, wanting to convey to him all the affection you felt for him. 

“You will escape one day though,” he stated again; you were ready to answer but he was quicker, “The day I’ll propose you’ll run for the hills.” he said like it was nothing. God, the way that boy always talked about marriage without any problem, he was going to be the death of you. 

“Pear!” you flushed, hiding your face in your hands, “stop it, stop, it’s not the day.” You stuttered and he was just laughing at your face.

“Not the day? Cœur, it’s inevitable that one day it’ll happen, we’re meant to be.” The more he spoke the more embarrassed you were, trying to escape his arms that, in the meantime, were hugging you super tightly. 

An idea popped out in your head; mischievously, you bit his nose and he immediately brought his hands to protect his face from you. “Y/N! What are you doing?” He shouted. You giggled and started running towards the bedroom.

“Catch me if you can, Pear!” you squealed, acting like a baby but, deep down, it was another attempt to cheer him up. Apparently it was working, because he shook his head before talking back, “Oh cœur, you don’t know what I’ll do to you when I’ll catch you.” He smiled devilishly before starting to chase you, a little smirk plastered on his lips. It was going to be an eventful afternoon.

2022, age 26

The French GP hadn’t exactly gone as planned and Pierre was quite frustrated about it. During the race you were staying with his parents in the AlphaTauri garage and you were fervently hoping for him to get at least some points in his home GP, though you knew the car wasn’t performing that well.

This was why you were slightly worried about his state of mind when you came back to the hotel later that night. To leave him some space to take it out, you had stayed a little bit with his parents before they left for their hotel. You had a chat with his mom while his dad was on the phone with him and you could say they were having an important, almost heated discussion.

It was then time to head back to your hotel, where you knew Pierre was waiting for you. Once in the room you heard the shower water was running, Pierre must have been having one. The room was a mess so you decided to clean up a little bit.

Clothes and shoes, mostly Pierre’s, were scattered everywhere, the bags were opened and the vanity case was abandoned on the bed. It was clear that when he had come back he was upset, probably angry and he had just quickly grabbed the stuff he needed for his shower before heading to the bathroom.

Who knew how long he had been in there! The thought of him in those conditions haunted you and didn't want to leave him alone, but on the other hand you knew from experience that he didn’t want to be disturbed; then you kept tidying up, hoping that he would finish soon.

You picked up a pair of clean boxers that were lying on the desk and when you placed them in his suitcase your hand came into contact with something small and hard. You frowned before sticking your hand inside to reach for the mysterious object. Your jaw dropped when you realised it was a little box from Tiffany’s.

Your heart started pounding and a million thoughts were running in your head. The rational part of your brain was struggling to accept the reality of facts, that Pierre was going to propose to you, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. On the other hand the most dreamy and emotional part of you was already planning everything. You could already picture him waiting for you at the end of the aisle, your white dress, the reception in a beautiful garden…

Your train of fantasies was stopped by Pierre walking out the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. When he saw you holding the tiny box his facial expression changed. He rubbed one hand over his face and a disconsolate sigh left his mouth.

“Y/N I can explain,” murmured Pierre but you interrupted him.

“I think it’s quite clear Pear” you lowered your head fidgeting with the tiny object in your hands.

“But I do want to explain cœur, I think you deserve it” he said, his tone convinced and determined. He reached out for you and you gave him your hand, which you accepted and he guided you towards the bed. You sat one next to another and he slowly began to speak.

“I wanted to do it.” he started, turning around to face you; his eyes were shining, but you couldn’t say whether it was sadness or something else. “I had planned everything with my dad’s help. After the race we would go to have dinner at the seaside and then I wanted to propose on the beach. But I was so sad after the race; I really hoped to score a point at least because Yuki had made it into Q3 in quali and the car seemed less shitty than usual. At the end I was so angry and I didn’t want to ruin the moment with my bad mood, so I didn’t do it.”

He sounded broken, probably both from the GP result and the fact he hadn’t dropped the question. He went on, whilst you were hanging on every word he was saying. “I even argued with my dad, because he thought that I had to do it anyway, I just had to put aside my irritation and ask you because this is more important than a race and-”

“Then ask me.” You interrupted him and his eyes widened.

“What?” He startled, and you realised you had actually said that out loud. Oh shit.

“No Pear, I mean- If you don’t want-” You rambled incoherently.

“You want me to ask you, cœur?” He asked with both surprise and hope in his voice.

Unable to trust your shaky voice, you nodded. His face lightened up and his smile grew bigger and bigger. He took the little box, which had stayed all the time in your hand, and he opened it while kneeling in front of you.

He looked up at you and you saw a single tear escaping his eyes. He breathed deeply before saying the infamous words, “Y/N, mon cœur, will you marry me?”.

The words were your breaking point: you started crying and hid your face in your hands. Your first thought was that Pierre could misunderstand your tears but that fear disappeared when you saw the soft smile on his face. He took one of your hands in his and gently started rubbing little circles on the back of it. He knew the crying wasn’t because of the question, but because of all the stress you had accumulated throughout the day.

After a couple of minutes you composed yourself and you came back staring Pierre in his eyes. Shortly after he removed the ring from the box and he got it closer to your hand.

“Just say yes cœur” he smiled shyly and you finally took courage to answer.

“Yes Pear, forever yes.” You said and let out a watery chuckle. His smile widened again, so much you thought he could burst from happiness. He lifted your hand to slip the ring on your finger, that was when you took some seconds to look at it: it was a thin silver band, with a small, delicate diamond on the top of it. Perfect in its simplicity. 

Pierre lifted up bringing you with him and - once you were both standing - he hugged you tightly, rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Thank you cœur, I love you forever and always.” he whispered in your ear.

You slightly untangled you from his tight grip to look at him, you placed a soft kiss on his lips and nuzzled your noses together. “I love you too Pear, forever and always.”

#beh writes #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fandom

[whathehe11]

I think I have found a song that perfectly fits Crowley and Aziraphale after the ending of season 2. It’s called à la Claire Fontaine and is about the singer listening to a nightingale singing while missing for their longtime friend to love them again.

I am currently obsessed with Good Omens (I know, total shocker) and it just hit me that this song my mom often sang to me when I was little fit surprisingly well.

Anyways, long story short I put the lyrics below the cut and I translated them in English (I tried to match the rhyming scheme and stuff but I’m not perfect)

À la claire fontaine at the pretty water fountain

M'en allant promener, while i was on a stroll

J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle, I found it was so pretty

Que je m'y suis baignée. That I went for a swim

REFRAIN

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, It’s been so long that I’ve loved you

Jamais je ne t'oublierai. Never, will I forget you

Sous les feuilles d'un chêne under the leaves of an oak tree

Je me suis fait sécher, I laid myself to dry

Sur la plus haute branche, up on the highest branch

Un rossignol chantait. A nightingale sang high

REFRAIN

It’s been so long that I’ve loved you

Never, will I forget you

Chante, rossignol, chante, sing, nightingale please sing

Toi qui as le cœur gai, you with your heart so light

Tu as le cœur à rire, you have the heart to laugh

Moi, je l'ai à pleurer. All mine can do is cry

REFRAIN

It’s been so long that I’ve loved you

Never, will I forget you

J'ai perdu mon ami I’ve lost my very best friend

Sans l'avoir mérité, without having earned them (him/her)

Pour un bouquet de roses, for a bouquet of roses

Que je lui refusai. That I refused to take

REFRAIN

It’s been so long that I’ve loved you

Never, will I forget you

Je voudrais que la rose I would’ve had the roses

Fût encore au rosier, still perched on the rose bush

Et que mon doux ami and for my dearest friend

Fût encore à m'aimer. To still love me deeply

REFRAIN

It’s been so long that I’ve loved you

Never, will I forget you

#aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony crowley #a z fell #i love good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 3 #good omens season 2 #good omens 3 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens #a la claire fontaine #classic French song #amateur translation #amateur translator #translation

[csashton]

Marry Me? - PG x Reader

Summary: 5 times Pierre mentions marriage and the 1 time you're on board.

Pairing: Pierre Gasly / Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1352

One. 

“Honestly, Pierre. You’re insane. We’re 15 - I can’t marry you.” You say, shaking your head at him. The both of you are laying in the grass outside your childhood home. You’ve been the best of friends since you were in diapers, and he’d recently gotten on this new kick of asking you to marry him. He’d had a rough relationship that just ended.

 “Why not? We get along really well, we like the same things. I think it’ll be perfect. We should just get married. It makes it so easy, mon ange.” You laugh at him, slapping him gently on the chest.

 "How about this, if we both are single at 25 you can ask me again." you offer, turning on your side to look at him. "Deal." 

Two.

Pierre spent most of his free time, when he wasn't training, at your apartment - mostly on your couch playing video games. "Pierre! Food is ready!" you call out from the kitchen, sliding the plate across the counter to where he normally sat when you ate together.

 "All these wifely duties and no ring on your finger?" he jokes as he takes his seat. "Ha. Ha." you deadpan as you sit next to him, you watch as he takes his first bite. "Oh my god." he nearly moans with his mouth full, "Marry me, please." You laugh, shaking your head. "It's just food, Pierre. Don't be dramatic." As you take a bite, he laughs. "Who said I'm being dramatic? I'm asking you to marry me, I don't think that's dramatic." 

Rolling your eyes you gently hit him on the shoulder, "I'm eighteen not twenty-five, and you're in a relationship." 

Three. 

Pierre’s relationships never seemed to last long, and your last relationship ended as quickly as it started. He said you spent too much time with Pierre and he couldn't deal with competition in his own relationship. You'd given up on finding a new relationship given all your travel for work, and to attend Pierre’s races. Now you’d found yourself sitting at a table in some swanky restaurant with a few of the other drivers, Pierre sitting to your left and Daniel sitting to your right.

"So, what are mom and dad's plans for the week?" he asks, his signature smirk spreading across his lips.

 "Daniel, how can we be mom and dad? You're literally older than me - I just turned twenty-one." you laugh, taking a sip of your wine. 

"You're the parents of the paddock, and you're basically married. You're attached at the hip and he's constantly staying at your place." You scrunch your nose at him, sticking your tongue out.

"Just because your best friend isn't as great as Pierre doesn't mean you have to be jealous, Danny." Pierre’s voice cuts in as his arm slings over your shoulder, "The only reason we're not married is because she won't say yes. I ask her all the time. I asked her this morning and she said no, again." You roll your eyes at him, gently shoving him with your shoulder. "I told him to wait til I'm twenty-five, and if we're still both single, I'll say yes." 

Four.

"Pierre." You mumble, shoving his shoulder from where you stand next to the couch. "Come on, get up. You'll fuck up your back sleeping here." His voice is muffled by the pillow when he responds, so you pull on his arm. "Up you get, you can sleep in my bed." 

Once you had gotten him into your bed, shoes off and tucked in, you turned out the light. "I love you mon cœur, you treat me so well." His voice slurs slightly making you laugh, "I love you too, now go to sleep - your hangover is going to be killer." As you get comfortable, you feel his arm sling around your waist and his face press into the back of your neck. "I'm gonna marry you one day, and then you'll be forced to take care of me forever. You'll marry me right, mon amour?" you laugh, patting his hand where it rests on your stomach. "Go to sleep, Pierre." 

Five. 

"Happy Birthday!" His voice startles you as you walk into your apartment," My favorite person is twenty-four!" Smiling, you walk into his waiting arms to get a hug. "Thank you, Pierre. Though I hardly believe I'm your favorite person. Yuki still exists." you joke, stepping back to look at him. "You are, I promise. Now get changed I'm taking you to dinner." You raise your eyebrows, hands moving to rest on your hips. "We're going to dinner? Just the two of us?" you ask, feeling suspicious. 

"Shoo, no questions. Get dressed I laid out your outfit." You roll your eyes as you walk to the bedroom and get changed quickly. As you get seated in the restaurant, you're sure your eyebrows still haven't fallen back to their normal place. "Pierre, this place is way too fancy." you whisper as you gently kick his shin under the table. "Only the best for my favorite girl on her birthday, yeah?" his voice is too fond for you to handle, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Is this an actual date? Are we on a date right now?" you question, avoiding his eyes when he looks up at you. 

"Have we not been dating for the last three years?" his voice is serious, causing your eyes to snap to his.

"What?" Your mind reels for a moment, "What do you mean we've been dating for the last three years?" your voice is hesitant.

 "You haven't dated anyone, I haven't dated anyone. You come to all my races, I come to all your events. We go on vacations together? I spend all my time at your apartment. Daniel calls us mom and dad of the paddock, surely you can't be that oblivious." You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a giggle fit. 

"Oh my god, you never asked me or said anything! You’ve just expected me to know?." you nearly cackle, causing everyone to look at you. 

One. 

The two of you are enjoying summer break, now officially dating. You're laying out on a towel in the sand, listening to the waves crash along the shore. Pierre is wrapped around your legs, head resting on your stomach as you run your fingers through his damp hair. 

"I can't believe you just assumed we were dating. Don't you think that's something that you'd clarify?" you question, you haven't let that go since it happened well over six months ago. 

"Amour, you're really still on about that?" his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, "I really shouldn't be surprised, you're not the best at communicating. You've been asking me to marry you since fifteen, long before we were even actually dating." You hum, thinking back you realize he hadn't asked you in a while. "Hey, Pierre?" you ask softly, causing him to look up at you. "Yes, cherie?" 

You smile, "Ask me?" His eyebrows pull together, unsure of what you mean. "Ask you what?" he questions, shifting up onto his elbow. "Ask me." you prompt again, shifting up to a sitting position. You see the moment it clicks in his mind as he scrambles onto his knees. "You're serious?" his eyes go wide, "Wait you're not twenty-five. I'm not twenty-five? I don't have the ring with me, I can't ask you." 

"What do you mean you don't have the ring with you?" you laugh, surely he's joking. "You told me I had to wait til we were twenty-five! I left it in my sock drawer." his voice is stressed as he brings his hands up to his face. "Pierre, just ask me please?" you prompt, moving to sit on your knees in front of him. Once he uncovers his face, you the smile on his lips. "Mon amour, I've waited since we were fifteen for you to say yes. So don't mess with me here, okay?" his voice is soft and you nod at him.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, eyes bright. "Yes, Pierre. I'll marry you." 

#pierre gasly #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fics #formula 1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #csashton #csashtonwrites #5 x 1 fic

[discopaddock]

CHILDHOOD NIGHTMARE - PIERRE GASLY

PAIRING: dad!pierre gasly x fem!mom!slavic!reader

GENRE: angst

NOTE: have to post again since i lost my account :(

WARNINGS: childhood trauma, baba yaga

Since Y/N could remember, she was always scared of the forest that was nearby her family house. Of course she loved her household but since she turned five, she never stood again in that forest, even if her whole family was going there.

Her childhood trauma was increasing with her growing up – at some point she stopped going to any forest and then Pierre decided that she had to meet with a psychotherapist.

She had been going to therapy for four years now – she was getting better and better with going to forests. Pierre was proud of her like no-one other.

And then, in August, Y/N's parents had their wedding anniversary. Because it was their twenty-five anniversary, they decided to make a huge party for their whole family. And with that, Y/N, Pierre and their kids just had to be there (even though it was hard to travel being heavily pregnant, Y/N just had to be there).

It was two days before the party when Pierre decided to go to the forest for a walk with kids and his wife.

Y/N didn't want to go there. She was still terrified of this forest and Pierre was going to know why she was scared of this forest in near future.

“But look, mon cœur, it will be healthy for you and bébé” he tried to convince her for the last time. baby

“I'm not going anywhere, Pierre” she said, almost sitting in the wardrobe because of the terror that she was feeling.

“Okay, but go out of this wardrobe, c'mon” he helped her get up and sit on the bed. “We'll be back in an hour, cœur. I'll take care of all of us, I promise” he prepared a kiss on Y/N's lips and left the room.

“Can I stay with maman?” Frederic, the younger sibling, asked just before leaving the house. He once had heard why his mother was so scared of forests.

“Okay, but be good, understand?” Pierre asked and the boy only nodded and ran to the room, where his mother was resting. “Let's go then” he said to Odette, who only held his hand.

They were walking for a half an hour when Pierre cottoned on that they were lost. He quickly picked up the girl in his arms, who laughed a little.

“Hold me tight, fille” he said to his girl who only hugged him harder. daughter

The man turned on his phone and sighed when he realised that he couldn't use Apple Maps because he didn't have any reception.

Pierre was trying his best to find way back home, but he was only getting lost again and again. And then he stood in front of a wooden house on chicken legs.

At first he thought he was dreaming and then he felt a hit flush. He knew he had to go back and he was thanking God that Odette fell asleep. He had always been a Catholic and when he heard for the first time why his wife didn't go to the forest, he just didn't believe her.

But now he was scared for his life and he wanted to start running so badly but he could only walk.

He finally found his way to the house and when he was on the road he started to run.

“You said you'll be home in an hour” Y/N said as she saw her husband at the threshold. Pierre only hugged her without saying anything. “Something happened?” she asked, hearing his precipitative heart beat.

“I'm so sorry” he whispered in her arm and let her go. “I'll change her clothes and put her in bed” he announced and went to the little Gaslys' room.

“Maman, can we get a smoothie?” Fred asked as he was descending the stairs.

“Sure, lover boy,” the woman answered, looking after her husband with a worried look.

After a few hours Y/N and Pierre were finally alone in their bedroom, so the woman could ask her husband what happened.

“Do you want to tell me what made you look like this when you got home?” she asked, sitting in front of him. He didn't talk a lot after his comeback. And he always used to be the most talkative person around. He didn't even want to look at his wife, which was hurting her heart. “Pierre, baby” she grabbed his face in her hands, making him look at her. “There's no shame, baby,” she smiled.

“You were right,” he whispered, looking at the curtained window. “You were right this whole damn time” he added and finally got his eyes on her. “I found a house in the forest” he didn't have to say anything more.

Y/N would always remember how she felt after she came back home that one red-letter day with all her face in tears and clothes ragged and dirty from the ground.

It was the most dramatic moment in her life.

She was playing with her siblings in the forest in hide and seek and this time the eldest one, her sister, was the one who was looking for the others.

Little five year old Y/N thought that it would be a good lodge behind a blueberry bush. But then she sneezed. Her eyes were watering because of a black cat that was sitting next to her.

Little one tried to drive the cat away with her hand but it was still sitting next to her.

“What are you doing?” the girl heard a hoarse voice so she turned around and saw someone that caused the biggest trauma in her life.

Y/N started to shriek with terror and tried to run but the woman with a huge, hooked nose snatched her arm and smiled ominously.

“Leave me alone please!” the girl cried, trying to bulldoze the woman's hand. The woman looked like Y/N's worst nightmare, her nose, sinister eye look, her dirty clothes and everything else. “Please!” she cried again and by accident hammered the woman's leg, so she left the girl's arm.

Y/N without hesitation started to run away. She didn't know for how long she had been running. Sometimes she was falling on the ground because of the roots but she never looked behind her.

So she didn't know if the woman was chasing her.

Y/N finally got to the home and started to knock on the door with her little fists. She had no idea that she started to cry at some point.

“Y/N, what happened?!” her mother asked as she saw her little daughter. The girl didn't say anything but hugged her mum's legs and started to hyperventilate.

Little one finally told the whole story when she was finally clean and was wearing normal clothes.

At first no-one believed her. Her parents thought that it was only a bad dream but when they talked with the girl's great-grandma, they believed their daughter.

“I've never seen anything like this” Pierre announced, when they were lying in the bed, his head tucked in his wife's chest.

“You're as much in this as I am” she laughed only and next they heard a knock on their door. Odette and Frederic were standing on the doorstep with their teddy bears.

“Can we sleep with you?” the boy asked and the man only waved his hand, so the kids jumped on the bed.

That night Pierre was the last person to fall asleep. He finally fell out after like three hours of having nightmares and hearing odd sounds in the bathroom, the hall and outside.

On that night Pierre promised himself that he will protect his family at all costs, no matter if it was just a bee that his daughter was scared of or some creepy woman, who lives in the forest.

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x slavic!reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x slavic!reader #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly fluff #discopaddock

[aromanticannibal]

Hi fellow writers. French words for you.

I just saw one too many posts showing off cute French petnames that are incredibly cringe to me in French, so here's a list that also tells you the connotations of different terms and their exact translation. If anyones worried about my validity (which would be fair don't trust people on the Internet), I'm a born French speaker, bilingual in English and currently in my first year of an English literature formation in university.

I also put a guide to swearing at the end because I think it's always fun to know how to swear in as many languages as possible.

Also, there's nothing about pronunciations because god knows I'm bad at that, so sorry. (Edit as of November 2023 : I'm going to try to add some tips on that front, but see how to pronounce things on WordReference if you need to).

Warning, it's a bit long. ⬇️

Je t'aime = I love you

Very vague guide to pronunciation : é = ey, -e at the end of the sentence is rarely pronounceable and generally indicates that the letter before it should be pronounced, ^ <- this is completely useless and doesn't do anything, è <- how you pronounce the letter A

Romantic petnames (and other expressions)

Je t'aime bien = I like you, I kinda like you - casual, can be used in a "I kinda like you, actually" kind of moment

Je t'adore = I adore you - Unlike in english, Je t'adore has the implication of excitement and big happiness in the moment, rather than worship or adoration (for example, you'll also say j'adore ça = I love this! about a thing you really like. For instance : J'adore My Hero Academia!) Can be used for friends.

Mon amour = my love - gender neutral (like few things in french), is generally very romantic but can be used by a mom or an aunt to her young children sometimes. You can also just say amour, though I hear it less in the part of France I'm in (Paris banlieues) I think it's popular in some places.

Mon chéri, ma chérie = comes from cher/chère = dear, so my dear, my darling. former is masculine, latter is feminine. Can be used by parents for their children, or condescendingly. You can just say chéri or chérie withoit the possessive in front of it.

Bébé = baby, gender neutral. It's like baby or babe in english (I dislike it personally but many people use it, generally young adults or teenagers). You can eventually say mon bébé (still gn), "mon" being a possessive pronoun, but it's less casual. Both can also be used by a mom/aunt, like mon amour.

(I'll say it here, but we don't actually say "mon cher/ma chère" much anymore, unless it's in a jokey or sarcastic way. It's just too fancy)

Ma belle/Mon beau = my beautiful, my pretty. The former is feminine and way more common than the latter, masculine, but you can still say it. Some fathers will call their daughters ma belle, it's not necessarily creepy but it can be.

Mon cœur = my heart, gender neutral. Pretty popular in couples, can be used in a family context too. Even with the possessive pronoun it's pretty casual, if not cheesy.

(Mon) trésor = (my) treasure. A pretty known one as far as I'm aware. It's pretty cute, just saying trésor is more casual. Gender neutral.

Mon amoureux/mon amoureuse = my lover (former masc, latter fem), VERY cheesy and kind of childish. "amoureux/se" literally means in-lover or something, someone who's in love (comes from être amoureux/se, to be in love). Elementary schoolkids ask who's your amoureux/se and you say I have an amoureux/se as a kid to say I have boy/girlfriend.

Mon adoré(e) = my beloved, the (e) is for the feminine form. feminine = adorée, masculine = adoré. This one is pretty fancy, unless your couple is very obnoxiously cheesy or actually gods/royalty/nobles, I wouldn't recommend using it too much.

Mon chat (my cat) + mon chaton (my kitty) = gender neutral, self explanatory. very cutesy, often used by older family members for younger family members. My godmother calls me mon chat and my aunt calls her youngest mon chat or just chat. I'd advise you to not use the feminine of chat (chatte) if you fear stupid jokes because it also means pussy.

In the same breath, Minou is a cutesy term for cat. It's not really used but if your french character has a catboy/girl partner, it's very well placed. Minette is a more feminine version of this word but it has kinda predatory connotations. A weird old dude talking about a young pretty waitress might call her a Minette. It can also be aggressive, a way to call someone - generally a girl - weak or pathetic. You can probably use it in a cute way though, but don't use it in a teasing way unless you want the implications that come with it.

And to follow through the predatory connoted petnames :

poupée = doll, feminine. It can be used in a cute way but is more often that not used in a I just whistled at you in the street and am now catcalling you way. Same thing as previous word, use it carefully. You can add ma in front of it as a possessive pronoun if you want I guess. (Here it will always be ma and poupée even if the character uses masculine pronouns, because the word poupée is feminine.)

There are a shit ton of random petnames we can make up, like ma tarte à la pomme (my apple pie), ma gaufre en sucre (my sugar waffle), mon ours en peluche (my teddy bear), mon sucre d'orge (my candy cane) but like. If I list all of them I won't ever be done with this post.

If you really want a cutesy nickname that's very personal to your otp, like I don't know if your fandom is called The Cyborg Of the Sea and your OTP is a pirate cyborg and a french dude, and you want your french dude to call your pirate cyborg something cheesy and very specific like my gold searching cyborg (mon cyborg chercheur(m)/chercheuse(f) d'or), just figure out an English version of your petname and translate it into a translator or something. Ideally not Google Translate.

The best would be to actually ask a french person, because there's subtlety to every language that most online translators are too dumb to give you, but not all of you have a handy french guy close to you. (If you want some good translators, use Linguee or WordReference or even Reverso but like please not GT).

Misc. words (insults)

I have to teach you people swears, I just have to.

Interjections (what you say when you stubbed your toe)

Putain = fuck. Literally, a putain is a sex worker, it's a derogatory term we use more as sort of fuck nowadays.

Merde = shit.

Bordel = also fuck, kind of. It can also mean something that's really messy. Something is in bordel when it's messy as shit. Bordel originally means a place where there's sex workers basically. (e.g.: C'est le bordel dans ta chambre! = It's a mess in your room! <- my mother everyday)

Fun fact, you can fuse these insults to make a more powerful insult. Notably,

Putain de merde,

Bordel de merde,

Putain de bordel de merde.

You can also say C'est quoi ce bordel (what is this shit, what the fuck). Or, C'est quoi ce putain de bordel. Of course.

Dégueulasse = disgusting, can both be used independently or as a descriptive term. Rude version of Dégoûtant.

Insults, for people

Pute = now this is the insult for sex worker. Don't use to actually refer to a sex worker unless you want it to be in a derogatory way. Can be used to call someone a slut I guess. Often used between girls as just an insult without the sex worker connotation. Also used to insult people's mom. "Ta mère la pute" means "your mom the prostitute" basically. Rarely meant specifically to say someone's mom's a prostitute, just to insult their mom. And of course, "Fils de pute" shortened to FDP, the Call of Duty voice chat insult, literally Son of a bitch.

Salope = slut/whore

Salopard = salope but man. technically not the same insult because it doesn't have the same connotation, it doesn't have the slut vibes. so salope and salopard can be used for both genders technically, but salope is feminizing and really just means slut while salopard kinda is used in the same way as asshole, especially if it's to insult a coward or someone who betrayed you.

Saloperie = shitty little thing, basically. When a weird bug just landed on my leg I get up in a panic and go what the fuck is this saloperie.

Connard, Conasse = former is masc, latter is fem. Just a general insult. I call my father a connard a lot. Can be used affectionately between close friends if they're that kind of friends.

Bâtard = bastard. Technically masculine (the feminine would be bâtarde) but no one cares, just say bâtard. It's genuinely the same word as in English, one of the words where the ^ is tranformed into a s (hôpital->hospital, hôtel->hostel...)

Enculé = generally masculine, literally sodomized. Not used literally, generally just another way to call someone a dick, but enculer is still a verb, that's used either as getting fucked over or as sodomized.

Trou du cul = hole of the ass~ asshole. We're fancy like that. shortened can be trouduc'. Really not one of the fancy one.

Beurrette = technically not a swear, but it's another derogatory term for sex worker, more specifically used as a way to imply someone's a prostitute. In a bad way obviously. I learnt this word from a weird tomboy I had a crush on in elementary.

Nique ta mère = fuck your mom. Not used literally, godbless, it's mostly to say go fuck yourself. And by the way,

Va te faire foutre = get fucked. the safe for work version is va te faire mettre, which means get done? get put, something like that.

Va te faire enculer = get sodomized specifically. I like this one.

Je m'en bas les couilles = I don't care, I don't give a fuck, literally I'm beating my balls about it. Very extra.

Je m'en branle = same as last one, except branler is a familiar word for to masturbate, so... I'm masturbating about it. Literally. Expression not actually used in a sexual context.

Bite = dick. (pronounced like the word beat) Not used as an insult, but :

Tête de bite = dickhead, actually used as an insult. A bit silly.

French people are susceptible to just put together random insults together to create an interjection if we stubbed our toe very hard.

Merde can be used to insult someone by saying petite merde (little shit, same connotation) grosse merde (fat shit, someone who's REALLY a dick) sale merde (dirty shit, bit more aggressive than the others) in general adding sale (imagine the A in black) in front of an insult can make it worse.

also, démission = resignation. Go yell macron démission with the others if you're in Paris right now it's fun I swear /j. macron explosion is fun too.

I hope you enjoyed whatever this is, if you ever have questions about French do ask I love answering questions about my stupid language.

#french #french petnames #France #writing #writing advice #writing help #language #swearing #petnames #pet names #romance #romantic prompts #writing prompts #fanfiction #original writing

[vividwritinglove]

You are with Pierre when he is visiting his nephews/nieces and he says he wants kids after and you guys start practicing/trying for it

his latest Insta post inspired me so much!

—————

The last week of the summer break Pierre and you spend as usual with his family. His parents rent a large house at the Côte d'Azur so that they can live with all their sons, their wives and grandchildren under one roof. It's chaotic, noisy and wonderful.

This week is absolutely sacred to Pierre. For several years now you have been taking part in this great tradition of the Gasly family. It is one of your highlights of the year. You love Pierre's family and they love you! Especially Pierre's mom is head over heels by you. You hit it off right away with her and even talk on the phone a few times a month. Without Pierre, which sometimes bothers him, because he thinks that you and his mother are keeping secrets from him.

You sunbathe with Pascale on the sun deck of the yacht, that Pierre has rented and watch the men doing water sports. Pierre wears his favorite orange swim shorts, by now his trademark, and keeps waving at you when passing by with the jet ski. Pascale grins, her youngest son still as enamored with you as the first day. You spend the whole day on the yacht, even have dinner there. Pierre is very busy with his youngest nephew, who is just learning to walk. Again and again the little one toddles up to him and falls joyfully into his arms. Everyone claps enthusiastically and your heart swells at this sight. Pierre loves his nieces and nephews so much. He would like to have children of his own, preferably 3. You are sure that he will be a great father one day.

Arm in arm, Pierre and you leave the yacht and get into the turquoise oldtimer that he also has rented. While Pierre confidently steers the vintage car along the coast, you lean back on the beige upholstery and enjoy the summer breeze. Pierre reaches for your hand, leads it to his mouth and covers the back of your hand with kisses. You are really lucky to have him. Pierre is the most generous and loving person you have ever met.

"I love you!" you say as you watch him continue kissing your hand.

"And I love you!" he replies directly, looking at you over his sunglasses on his nose with a smile. You can't help but snuggle up to him and kiss his strong neck. Pierre grins at your caresses, "Mon cœur, can't you be patient until we get home?“.

"With your entire family?" you laugh, "Forget it!".

"Then we'll just have to be quiet..."

You both decide to drive along the coast a little longer. The house would be a bit chaotic now anyway, since it's bedtime for the kids. Pierre drives to a small bar not far from the house and you two linger there for a while, before you arrive back at the family domicile after midnight. Everyone else already went to bed and Pierre and you have to sneak quietly into your shared room. Which is not that easy, since Pierre pushes you with his hands on your hips in front of him and meanwhile kisses the crook of your neck. His beard stubble tickles you and the 2 glasses of wine you had before made you even giggle more.

"Shhhh." admonishes Pierre, "we have to be quiet.".

Finally you made it to the bedroom and as the door falls into the lock, so do your clothes on to the floor. Pierre pushes you onto the bed and leans over you to kiss you passionately. His kisses travel from your lips, to your neck, over your breasts and down to your belly. He stops and looks up at you. Your eyes meet. You look at him questioningly.

"I'd love to see you with a round belly." he murmurs against your skin, kissing it again while keeping eye contact with you, "A little you and me, what do you think?".

You knew you wanted to be a mother someday and starting a family with Pierre would be a dream! You stroke your hands through his hair and smile at him, "Let's make a baby.".

#freakyf1friday #pierre gasly #pg10 #pierre gasly x reader #f1 smut #pierre gasly smut #f1 things

[maddiesbookshelves]

Always Never, by Jordi Lafebre

It's a love story in reverse. A platonic passion between two people. On the one side, there's Ana, a charismatic woman in her sixties, former mayor newly retired, a wife and a mom. A fighter with a big heart commanding respect. On the other side, there's Zeno, a confirmed bachelor, bookseller close to retiring and PhD student whose thesis took him forty years to write. A free spirit and traveller, as charming as he is mysterious.

Over the years, they have woven together an impossible and inexhaustible love. While going through the excuses that prevented it to happen, we rewind the clock on this romance, with all its twists and turns... Until its origins.

I bawled my eyes out when I reached the last page, it was amazing.

It was probably the most touching and beautiful love story I've read since... forever, maybe. The art style and the colors were what drew my attention first, and what was inside was just as beautiful as the cover.

The backward narration timewise was a really interesting way to tell Zeno and Ana's story because we know that something happened for them to lose touch and miss each other throughout the years, but we're left wondering what until we get there. It also means that some details come back at different points in time and we only understand where they come from later (the lilies were my favorite). It feels like we're being rewarded for paying attention to what's being said and drawn.

Anyways, much much love for this graphic novel, I'll borrow another one by Jordi Lafebre at the library as soon as possible.

French version under the cut

C'est l'histoire d'un amour à rebours. Une passion platonique mais éternelle entre deux êtres. D'un côté, il y a Ana. Sexagénaire charismatique, ancienne maire tout juste retraitée, mariée et maman. Une battante au grand coeur qui impose le respect. De l'autre, il y a Zeno. Célibataire endurci, libraire proche de la retraite et doctorant en physique qui aura mis quarante ans pour terminer sa thèse. Un esprit libre et voyageur, aussi séduisant que mystérieux.

Au fil des années, ils ont tissé ensemble un amour impossible et intarissable. Tout en égrainant les excuses qui ont empêché qu'elle ne prenne forme, on remonte le temps de cette romance et de ses méandres... jusqu'à sa source.

J'ai pleuré comme une madeleine quand je suis arrivée à la dernière page, c'était incroyable.

C'est probablement l'histoire d'amour la plus touchante et la plus belle que j'ai lu depuis... peut-être toujours. Les dessins et les couleurs sont ce qui a attiré mon regard en premier et l'intérieur de la BD est aussi beau que la couverture.

La narration à rebours était un moyen super intéressant de raconter l'histoire d'amour de Zéno et Ana parce qu'on sait qu'il s'est passé certaines choses pour qu'ils se perdent de vue et se ratent au fil du temps, et on se demande comment ça s'est produit jusqu'à ce qu'on y arrive. Ça permet aussi d'avoir des détails qui se répètent et dont on ne comprend l'origine que plus tard (les lys étaient mon détail préféré). On se sent récompensé quand on fait attention à ce qu'il se dit ou ce qui est dessiné.

Bref, gros gros gros coup de cœur, j'emprunterai une autre BD de Jordi Lafebre à la bibliothèque dès que possible.

#always never #malgre tout #jordi lafebre #french comics #french books #graphic novels #french graphic novels #french bd #bande dessinée #books #booklr #booklr community #book recs #book recommendations #book reviews #french

[ldngwkshsbnd]

commentaires de l’épisode 12 de Only Friends part 12 : (-18)

.

.

.

oui bah moi aussi j’étais heureux mais là on chiale tous. aaahhh (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞.

.

.

cette image me déchire le cœur. vraiment t’as des photos que tu peux montrer à des fans de dramas ils se mettent instante à chialer. une nouvelle dans la collection.

.

.

oohh trop mignon. MAIS QU’EST-CE QU’IL M’ARRIVE FAUT M’EMMENER VOIR UN MÉDECIN (Jimmy?)

.

.

wwhhooooo (•.•). sorry mom… je l’avais dit, ma plus grande fierté c’est mes screens, eh bah j’en tiens des bons. par contre on en parle de cette musique? genre elle est incroyable je l’écoute h24 vraiment elle est trop bien. plus belle musique de scène de cul que j’ai jamais eu.

.

.

comment ça a Mew? (je pense que le 10/10 est quand même un peu exagéré)

.

.

t’es con -_-.

.

.

sinon on fait des brochettes. qui est chaud?

.

.

oula joue pas trop, il va avoir First qui va s’énerver et être vexé encore une fois.

.

.

la ça remonte son ego. comprend pas pourquoi. être bottom c’est mieux (je développerai pas le sujet)…

.

.

bah! on se demande pourquoi tiens. on savait tous qu’il allait dire ça.

.

.

.

to be continued -> (on peut ranger les mouchoirs, on a fini de chialer (je précise on sait jamais).

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - All I Want For Christmas

Requested: yes

Prompt: All I Want For Christmas w Charles Leclerc

Warnings: none

Y/n was on the phone with her boyfriend Charles. For the holidays, this is how they communicated since he lived in Monaco and she would visit her family back home in Denmark. They started dating during Charles' first year in Formula One when she visited with her uncle in Sauber. They met just before the season came to an end. She came into the hospitality, laughing with her uncle and speaking alanguage that seemed like no one would ever understand. But to Charles? To Charles, he sat listening to her in awe. He liked her voice. He listened in awe as she spoke, subconsciously smiling to himself. When she was by herself, Charles turned to try and strike up a conversation. "Excuse me, miss?" he asked. The girl turned, her (y/c/h) hair was half up and half down and her (y/c/e) eyes looked up at him. He melted and found himself stuttering, trying to form some words. "Is this taken seat? I mean, is this teat saken, wait-" She giggled as she watched him fumble with his words. "Is this seat taken?" he finally blurted out. "Not unless you're going to sit here with me." He smiled and sat down next to her and from then, it was history.

"I wish I could hug you right now. I miss you so much." Y/n smiled softly at him through the phone. "I know mon cœur. I miss you too but you'll have me in a few days." She hid her actual feelings with a forced smile. She had spent Christmas with Charles and his family last year and the year before but he'd never spent Christmas with her's. "I have to go mon cœur, dinner is nearly ready." Charles and Y/n said their goodbyes and hung up. She let out a sigh and walked down to the kitchen to her mother, who was baking. "Ah, you're finished then? How was Charles?" Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know mom. He was giving such short answers." Y/n said, rubbing her eyes. "Oh darling, I'm sure he's just very tired like you are." Y/n scoffed. "Maybe he's tired of me. We hardly see eachother now." Y/n walked towards the bowl of cake batter and began stirring. "Don't be silly. I don't think he would be tired of you." Y/n rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling in a attempt to hold her tears in. "I won't know until he tells me or until I find out."

"Y/n, he isn't tired of you." her mum reassured her. "But how do you know mom?" Her mother opened her mouth and closed it again. "I don't know. All I know it that he isn't tired of you. You just have to believe me." Y/n nodded and smiled light-heartedly. "Thanks mom. I think I'm gonna stay up a little while longer." Her mother arched a brow. "Are you sure? Were all going to bed." Y/n smiled and nodded. "Of course. I want to do some baking. You can have an early night." Her mum kissed her forehead. "Don't stay up too late." Y/n agreed and watched as her mother went to bed. Y/n sat up baking like she said she would but she didn't stay up for a little bit, she stayed up most of the night. After all her siblings had wrapped the presents, after all the timed lights went out, after everything but still, she went to bed so she wouldn't get given out to by her mother in the morning.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open to the sound of her nieces and nephews running around, waking up their parents and then running into to wake up Y/n. "Guys, guys, I'm up, I'm up." She croaked as they bounced on her bed. "Then get up! We need to open our gifts from Santa!" the children shouted. "No, no, no, no, no. Let her sleep! She had a long night baking for you!" They whined but got down off the bed and left Y/n in bed. She let out a sigh of relief as she could finally lie back down again. It had only been a few minutes when she heard her bedroom door open and someone creep their way in. She pulled a face when she heard hushed voices. Why were her whole family just standing around her door, whispering? Y/n felt a weight bring her bed down but she figured it was probably her mother coming up to check on her and she would have wholeheartedly believed it if she hadn't heard the opening of All I Want For Christmas Is You playing. She had her back to them, so she couldn't see them. Her eyes opened, confused as anything but then, she heard a voice. "I, dont want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need-" She hopped up like a bolt of lightning. Surely he wasn't here. Was he? Her bottom lip trembled as she saw Charles with his phone in front of him, playing music and reading the lyrics off to sing them to her. "I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree-" She began crying as he continued singing. Then she looked over to her family behind her, her mother filming as the others looked on, grinning. "Why are you guys recording?"

"Mon cœur, You're interrupting." Charles said quickly and then returned to singing, making her laugh. "Make my wish come true! All I Want For Christmas -" Charles looked up from his phone and into her blue eyes. "Is You." The Danish family clapped as Y/n engulfed her boyfriend in a tight hug. "Did you enjoy your Christmas gift?" her mother asked. Y/n looked over, still crying but now smiling as she nodded. "Mon cœur, dont cry, dont cry." Charles said, rubbing her back and shushing her. "A heads up would have been nice so I wouldn't cry!" Charles kissed her cheek. "I didn't know you would cry, now did I?" They laughed together. "Merry Christmas mon cœur." He whispered. Her grip loosened and she kissed his lips. "Merry Christmas my love."

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #charles leclerc imagime #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader

[bluecrazydriver]

Chapter 4 - Le cœur d'Anasthasya

The sun was shining in Anasthasya's room. The morning light warmed the room, she opened her eyes slowly, and the first thing she saw was Misft purring, lying next to her.

Before getting up, Hydes lovingly strokes the cat's fur and kisses its head. When she set her feet on the floor, she placed the cat in her arms and walked downstairs with the animal.

She missed her always messy room, her foreign records, the smell of grandma spread throughout the hallways of the mansion and the paintings of people with unfamiliar faces (but never forgotten) who were once family and left years before Anasthasya was even born.

She also missed the countless plants scattered around the corners of the rooms, the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, the small talk at lunch, Misft's soft fur scattered on the furniture, of her brothers' silly fights and of Mom and Dad's 'I love you's... All these things that made her feel good but couldn't take with her to Hogwarts, things that made her feel at home and protected.

In feather-light steps, she descended the stairs. On the first floor, Anasthasya returns the animal to the floor and follows her to the dining room.

There is no one there. She goes to the kitchen and it was also empty. The girl smiles sideways, starting to understand what was happening.

She leaves the mansion through the back doors that led directly to the backyard, a few steps and finds the picnic table prepared and full of food. When Hydes approaches, Severus, Thomas and Georgina come out from under the table.

— Happy birthday! — the three exclaim in sync.

The young woman laughs with joy, turning her back, she sees the rest of her family appearing, hidden behind plants and objects in the garden.

— Happy birthday, my Nana — Paola hugs her, kissing her daughter's cheek. Then Simon puts a cone-shaped hat on his daughter — My baby has grown so much!

— Happy birthday, darling — the father says, hugging her together with her mother.

After the hug from her parents, she receives affection from her aunt Carmen, grandmother Diana, brothers and finally, Snape.

— Happy birthday, Ana — he whispers in her ear, with his arms wrapped around his friend's body.

— Thanks, Sev — she responds, standing on tiptoe to fit perfectly into his embrace — thanks for letting me kidnap you...

— It was a pleasure being here with you and your family — he says, distancing their bodies, no matter how much they secretly wanted to remain stuck together and merge as one — kidnap me more often.

Anasthasya and Severus laugh together.

Grandma Diana approached holding the strawberry cake in her hands, the number 17 candles made the girl's eyes light up. To the sound of clapping and congratulatory music, Hydes closed eyes and after the joint song, she blew out the candles making her wish.

______________________________________________

While everyone was distracted by Carmen telling gossip about some of her colleagues' personal lives, Eliza approached the teenagers who were talking and smiling silly at each other.

— So... you're Severus Snape? — The aunt's fiancee extends her hand, greeting the boy. The woman was tall, a few inches taller than him, platinum blonde, dark brown eyes and a young face— Welcome to family.

— Thank you, miss — he says as he greets her.

— How did you two meet? — the lady asks looking at the duo.

— We are from the same house at Hogwarts and we are a little isolated from the rest... — Anasthasya explains.

— She isolated herself of her own accord, she could very well have become one of those idiotic snotty noses like Gryffindor — Severus adds with a roguish smile, teasing his friend by lightly hitting their shoulders together.

— How cute, you two are adorable together. Make the most of the energy you have now, Carmen and I don't have time to see each other normally... —Eliza focuses gaze on the future wife who was now laughing with her nephews, Eliza's expression changed when she saw her beloved's smile, almost hypnotized — but we stay together, regardless of what happens. You are a very cute couple.

Anasthasya loses her ground at Eliza's statement, feeling her cheeks heat up and body freeze. Severus couldn't have a different reaction either, even having butterflies in his stomach.

— Anyway, I'm going. Paola's meat dumplings are delicious, I need to finish them — the bride says, soon returning to the table.

The two were in shock after being mistaken for a couple. Before they can exchange a word, Simon calls everyone for a toast.

___________________________________________

The day passed quickly, Anasthasya didn't understand why those words affected her so much. "We're just friends! Just. Just friends, friends, friends."

Severus found himself in the same situation, but he pretended that Eliza's words didn't shake him.

The family spent the morning and part of the sunny afternoon celebrating, after the party, the mansion cleaned up the mess while they rested.

Grandma Diana was making a pair of black crochet gloves in front of the fireplace in the living room, Severus was in the living room reading a book that Anasthasya's father recommended on the sofa, until he saw her standing in front of him.

— Yes? he asks, raising one of his eyebrows.

— Come, I didn't show you my lair — she calls him.

Severus smiled, but felt anxious, even so he went up the stairs following her.

She takes him to her room, colorful and full of information. Posters, rugs, discarded clothes, a closet full of books and records, old and dusty dolls, small potted plants decorated the room. The colors orange, red and purple were most prominent among the different colors that coexisted there.

— Your room has a lot of personality — Snape praises, feeling himself entering the girl's mind.

— Oh, thanks! You know, empty things make me feel down... — Hydes murmurs, closing the door and heading towards the bookshelf, she picks up a record and approaches her record player — have you ever heard Françoise Hardy?

— I've never heard of it.

— But well, now go listen to her.

Carefully, the girl puts a record on the music player, echoing a calm melodic sound with a female voice singing.

Anasthasya turns to Severus standing in front of her, the young woman approaches with her eyes staring into his.

— What did you ask for for your birthday when you blew out the candles? — he asked.

—I'll only tell you if you dance with me.

— I don't dance well.

— I kind of don't care.

Severus lets out a weak laugh and approaches her with his hands on her back, inviting her to a reserved and slow dance. Anasthasya rests her hands on the boy's shoulder, with their eyes shining at each other to the sound of that song in a foreign language.

— I adore... — he murmured, focused on Hydes face. Mesmerized by his gaze.

— Do you adore music? It's my favorite, called 'Le premier bonheur du jour' and-

— I wasn't referring to music...

There was silence there, the gentle swaying of their bodies was addictive. Alone, in that small room, enchanted by the moment and in love with each other.

— I was referring to you. I adore you — he confesses at once, without speaking out or stuttering.

— I adore you too, Sev... — she murmured, bringing their faces closer together and placing one forehead against the other — do you know what I wished for at the time of congratulations and when I blew out the candle?

— What? — Severus asked, with the tips of their noses connected and unable to take his eyes off Anasthasya's full lips.

— I wish you really wanted to kiss me... — she said in a sigh, feeling his breath hitch against hers. Gently, Hydes hand goes to the boy's chest and she looks deep into his black eyes — do you want...to kiss me?

— It's one of the things I want most in my life.

After answering, they both close their eyes and their lips seal while the sound of the music slowly fades away. The first kiss was shy, awkward and strange, however, the immediate need for more of that contact arose.

One of Severus' cold hands caressed the girl's cheeks and went down to the tip of her chin, while he contemplated her face before kissing her with more confidence and passion.

Anasthasya returned the kiss, feeling their tongues intertwine with desire, it was wet and hot... and addictive. She takes Snape's vacant hand and places it on the side of her hip. He retreats, but Anasthasya insists that he touch more.

— Please... — the girl begs slyly.

— I'm sorry, Anasthasya... — Snape asks for forgiveness.

—For what? — Her look seemed confused and anxious, she then placed her hand on the young man's cheek, preventing him from leaving her — Severus, I know you want me. We are no longer 12, 13 year old children....And I want you.

— The problem isn't the kiss...much less you, but me...I feel so ashamed and unworthy of having you around. I punish myself when I have impure, intrusive thoughts about you and...

— Sev, I'm not a goddess or saint to feel like a sinner.

— For me you are.

— So give me what I want, kiss my mouth, grab my hips. Love me.

Without delay, Severus attacks the girl's lips, devouring her in an intense kiss with the tongue. She murmured, feeling the boy's hands pulling her hips closer. "Yes! That's what I wanted!" Anasthasya celebrated in her head, returning the contact with the same passion.

Seconds later, Snape was on top of Hydes on the mattress of the girl's bed, kissing her neck as she writhed and sighed in love.

— Ah, Sev! — she moaned in his ear, sending goosebumps all over his body. He walked away, still staring at his friend.

— I don't think we should do 'that' at your house...they might end up catching us.

— Y-you're right — Nana agreed, the young woman fixed her hair and clothes, her cheek was flushed and her eyes were shining. She wanted more.

— Maybe... You can stop by my house, and I can get away, there's a nice park nearby... — Snape pauses, thinking about his idea, he was also getting ready, wiping the lipstick on his mouth — We could...kiss there. If you want it.

— Yes...I would love to kiss you...more.

_______________________________________

AN: OMG THIS IS SO FLUFF KSKSBCJSJANAMLCNAPWMNDKDK

#professor snape #severus snape #oc #severus x oc #severus fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

[nullsleepy]

Hear me out, people’s faces becoming sort of blurry to marinette and she loses her ability to understand emotions or react to them properly after years of dealing with hawkmoth. She tries to move on with life with the help of her family and friends but it’s still a struggle. One day, sabine and tom sit her down to tell her that her biological parent is trying to reach out and connect. She doesn’t know how to react but she is wiling to meet them. (Whoever her bio parent is, they definitely didn’t expect mari’s resting smiling face and her empty voice.)

Doll Eyes

Prologue: The Strings

Prologue(Here), Chapter 1(To Be Added)

Trigger Warnings: Mentioned Self Harm, viewer be warned. (Not a warning but there is a poll below and you should check it out!)

Marinette slowly opened her eyes as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Her once bright blue eyes were closer to grey in color, unable to take in any light. She didn’t bother to move her face around to see who it was, instead barely lifting head up. A dull, polite smile formed on her face as the footsteps stopped in front of her.

“Hello, father.” Her unmoving, cold voice rang out into the room.

She tried to fix the problem, started to see if maybe wearing glasses would work. She borrowed stole Alya’s glasses for a little bit and attempted to interact with others. When that didn’t work, she even tried to direct some of her miraculous cure at herself, yet nothing seemed to fix her problem. She couldn’t even recognize, see, herself in the mirror or photos. But she still went on with life as normal. No one suspected a thing. No one thought their local ladybug couldn’t even see their faces anymore.

Until it all went downhill on the day her mama found her trying to scrape out her eyes.

“Marinette!” Sabine screamed as she flung the half opened attic door away. Her steps were heavy and quick, as if she was desperately trying to stop her daughter. Marinette’s eyes were covered in scratches, some bleeding heavily. Her fabric scissors were centered right in front of her eyes.

“……” Marinette said nothing as Sabine yanked the scissors away from her, flinging them out of her glass door leading to her terrace. Sabine took Marinette’s face into her hands, yelling incomprehensible words as she looked over her daughter’s wounds.

“Hello, Marinette…” A soft voice cooed at her, taking her hand into theirs. “It’ll be okay, alright? We’ll take good care of you.”

Marinette imagined their face had glowing red eyes and a smile too sharp to be natural. Maybe the devil finally came to claim her life.

“My sweet chérie, ma cœur, I have good news for you. You’ll be released soon. You’ll get to see all of your friends again.” Her mother held her close, resting her head on Marinette’s. The warmth was the only thing Marinette noticed.

“Bǎo bèi, be careful with your steps now. I don’t want you to fall.” Her mom held her hand, leading Marinette down the stairs of the hospital. She thinks that was a hospital anyways.

She said nothing.

Her room was changed to the downstairs one, and all of her sharp objects were gone. She was given a wiggly pencil and oddly soft paper instead of her sewing supplies. Her bed was exchanged for more mattresses to stack on top of eachother.

She felt herself lose whatever remains of her life she had left.

“Mari…” Her father slowly petted her head, leaning her onto his chest. “Your mama and I wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Marinette, we…” Her mother began, softly rubbing the girl’s arm.

“-aren’t your real parents.”

As the footsteps stopped in front of her, Marinette tilted her just a bit, as if she was a doll.

“Hello, father.” She smiled politely, not a single bit of light reaching her eyes. The figure in front of her kneeled down, his arms rested on the knee that was bent.

“Hello, Marinette.”

Notes: I am so sorry for taking so long making this, heavholic! I hope this storyline so far is enjoyable though. Also, hopefully the images/divider I made is working! Wanted to do something different than the usual “-“ to separate them. My other fics will be updating(eventually) when I have time and inspiration, which should be soon(Or I will be taking on the quest of defeating the inspiration god and stealing all his inspiration! Jk pls inspiration god, give me strength!)

Tag List: (Open)

#maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #self harm #only for a bit #but trigger warning #fanfiction #fanfic