#1016week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

espithewarlock · 7 months

Text

Happy @1016week Day 1 - Monza!

Mild content warning for a vaguely consensual non-monogamous relationship...

（*゜ー゜*）

Monza is a magical track. There is something about the air, the energy, that fills his soul and clouds his head. Everyone’s potential at Monza is limitless and anything can happen.

Charles knew that was true of any track, of course, but he didn’t understand how special Monza was until he raced there in Formula One for the first time.

Things were different back then, during his rookie season. His race suit was different, a mixture of white and a darker red than he wanted. Even then he knew he would be trading that outfit for the bright red of Ferrari very soon, and the crowd loved him for it.

Pierre’s outfit also changed over the years. It started as a mixture of blues, then became white with navy, and this year was the first year he was in black with blue and pink accents.

That year, back in 2018, they were both racing at Monza in F1 for the first time and they didn’t understand the true magic of the track. They didn’t know how it worked. Neither scored any points, but that was almost expected of them in their junior teams.

They still fell into bed together that night, energy pulsing through their bodies with some unknown force that they had yet to harness and understand. It drew them together. They did not talk about it the next day. They were simply friends once again.

In 2019, they began to learn. Pierre was suffering, the tragic loss of their dear friend and his mid-season demotion still so fresh and painful, and he finished the race just out of the points. Charles stood on the top step for the second race in a row.

That night, when they came together, it was in celebration and in agony. It was perfect and wonderful and awful.

They did not talk about it the next day.

Monza was a track of balance. It would give and it would take. It would build them up and it would break them down. They learned that it would make one of them bleed for the other one to flourish and thrive.

2020 made that all the more obvious. His crash was horrible, but seeing Pierre on the top step made all of those negative feelings wash away.

Charles bled, and he tasted victory on Pierre’s tongue for the first time. It was one of the best things he had ever tasted in his life.

They did not talk about it the next day.

In 2021 they reversed yet again. Charles was only a couple of seconds off of the podium while Pierre got a DNF. Neither of them tasted like champagne that night. It didn’t matter.

Just being together, for that one night, was all he needed.

They did not talk about it the next day.

The race in 2022 was when it started to feel different. Charles had already bled for so many races that year. He didn’t have anything else to give. He had felt the championship slipping out of his grasp, despite standing on the second step of the podium.

Pierre also finished in the points, though much further down. Sadly, it was one of his best finishes of the season. Maybe Pierre was sacrificing his whole season for Charles’ success. Maybe Monza was making Charles bleed for Pierre.

Whatever the reason, that night was slower, softer than any of their previous nights together. It lingered in a way that sent chills up Charles’ spine. Not for the first time, he longed for more.

They did not talk about it the next day.

This year felt familiar. Expected. They left the track together, as they always did. Charles wasn’t thrilled with his fourth place finish, despite what he told the media. He knew that a podium had been possible for him. Pierre was never in the points.

Everybody knows about them. Their girlfriends, their families, their friends. Everybody knows and allows them to have this. Monza. The one night a year where they can be together as something more.

Pierre slides into the passenger seat of Charles’ Ferrari as he starts the engine. Neither of them speak as he drives. They never do.

As he drives, Charles keeps his free hand on Pierre’s thigh. He can feel the strong muscles beneath his palm and the disappointment rolling off of Pierre.

Charles pulls into the guest parking spot at Pierre’s apartment. Honestly, it might as well have his own name on it for this day every year. Today, the spot is his. Pierre is his.

As soon as the door is closed, Pierre pushes him up against the wall and connects their lips together. They both groan since it’s been a year since they’ve last tasted each other in the only way that matters.

Pierre says Charles’ name across his lips. It’s soft, reverent in a way they rarely get to experience. Charles says Pierre’s name right back, a plea, a whisper, desperate with desire. It doesn’t take them long to find their way into the bedroom.

For tonight, it’s not Pierre’s bedroom. It’s their bedroom. They can pretend.

Clothing is shed along the way and very quickly they are bare before each other. He feels Pierre pressing him into the mattress with his entire being. Charles lets Pierre’s fingers into his body, and then Pierre himself.

He is completely surrounded by the sensation that is Pierre. It consumes him, inside and out. He lives for this. He longs for this. Monza is the one day a year where he gets to experience this. To indulge in the fantasy that he can have this.

There are still no words between them. Gasps, moans, sighs, and whines fill the air as they move together. Sweet nothings are whispered, murmured against skin, hidden, concealed from their ears.

They find their release together, sweaty and stated and tangled up in each other. Pierre kisses every part of his skin that he can reach until they are both exhausted. Charles returns the kisses with equal fervor.

In the morning, they will wake up with their limbs still tangled together. Pierre will take him by the hand and lead them into the shower.

They will step under the spray together, noses brushing up against each other but lips not touching. As much as Charles wants them to, they won’t touch again for another year.

They will wash each other’s bodies in a way that is achingly familiar and completely out of their grasp. Pierre will not touch Charles in the way that he wants. In the way that he craves.

It will no longer be Monza and they will no longer belong only to each other.

They will dry off and make their way into Pierre’s kitchen. Pierre will make himself coffee and Charles will make himself tea. He will endure the inevitable teasing since he knows that Pierre buys a box specifically for him every year.

Conversation will be light and easy and friendly between them. They will talk about the race, the next one in Singapore, their girlfriends, their families, their plans for the upcoming week.

They will not talk about it the next day.

Before he leaves, Charles will make one concession. He will lean in close and press a kiss, sweet and lingering, to Pierre’s cheek.

Pierre will duck his head to try and hide his smile. Charles will see it anyway. Pierre will gently twine their fingers together and squeeze his hand as he says goodbye. Charles will wish that Pierre asks him to stay.

It will be another year before they are like this again. This season will end, the next season will begin, and Monza will still be on the calendar.

Maybe next year will be the year that they talk about it the next day.

#1016 week 2023 #1016week #Day 1 - Monza #piarles #10 x 16 #fanf1ction

27 notes · View notes

brasiliangp · 7 months

Text

all roads lead back to Monza ♥

@1016week: day 1 - Monza

#1016 week 2023 #charles leclerc #pierre gasly #*edits #piarles

95 notes · View notes

crimsonicarus · 7 months

Text

@1016week

Quotes: "House of memories", Panic at the disco - "Estate 5", Toni Payne - "Les justes", Albert Camus - "A letter to Anatole", Marcel Proust - from the "Hush, my sweet" Haiku archives, WTM - "All things end", Hozier - twitter user, Apple green - unknown work, David McCullough Jr - "The ice palace", F. Scott Fitzgerald -unknown work, R.M Drake - ,"This is How You Lose the Time War", Amal El-Mohtar.

Paintings: "The longing to air trips", Artem Cheboka - "water light", Janet Reid Wilson - "Evening", Dmitry Oleyn -"sunset wave", Jim Mcconologue.

#1016 week 2023 #piarles #1016 #pierre gasly #charles leclerc #monza 2020 #monza 2019 #f1 web weaving #f1 edit #this was sooooooo fun

74 notes · View notes

singsweetmelodies · 6 months

Note

Hello Katie 👋🏼👋🏼 :D

For the 50 romance prompts ask meme, I'll like to request for 44: soulmate AU: timers <3

but if possible... with a twist...? (you don't have to include a twist if it's too difficult to work it in!)

The twist being, for whatever reason, their countdown timers for each of them to the time they meet their soulmates doesn't match, so they think "we're not each other's soulmates. that's cool. (no it's not)" but it turns out that they're each other soulmates anyways. or they choose to be with each other in spite of not being each other's soulmates. idk. *nervous laughter*

hiiii charlotte 🥰 first off, i am SO sorry for the incredible delay with this answer!! i saw this prompt and i absolutely LOVED IT (and the twist!! 🙏 *chef's kiss*) but unfortunately i got struck with a horrible case of writer's block/work deadlines, and just couldn't get to it at all.

until yesterday: i decided to just open my inbox and see what came to me. no thinking, just following the vibe of a prompt and writing. and uh. this happened... not only did it get ridiculously long (oops?) but it also somehow became a mini "investigate montreal" fic?? so in that vein, i'm tagging @1016week and submitting a belated entry for Day 6 "Montreal"... ❤️

i love this one. hope you love it too!! 👀⌚

Charles' soulmate timer stops when he is seven years old, and he meets the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

He's been vibrating with excitement all weekend - not just because it's a karting cup, but because his soulmate timer has been ticking down to this day for months now. Well, not just months, not really. It's actually been his whole life, but Charles doesn't remember all of that. He only remembers the past few months, when the little numbers had been getting smaller and smaller, until there were only ten days left and Charles gasped when he realised that the day would fall on the same day as the Bridgestone Cup.

"Of course the girl I marry is going to like racing, too," he'd told Maman and Papa, confidingly. Not a lot about soulmates made much sense to him, but this did.

His Maman had tried to smile, and Charles had hugged her tight to let her know it was going to be okay. He would find his soulmate, and then everyone would be smiling, because that's what people do when you meet your soulmate.

(Later that night, when Charles had been too excited to sleep and he'd gone to the bathroom quickly, Charles had heard his parents having an argument in their room. The door was closed, so their voices were muffled, but Charles could still make out his Maman saying "I just don't think it's a good sign, to meet your soulmate so young!" But Papa had countered, "Many people do, and they have beautiful stories. You have to trust that our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow." And then there had been an icky noise, like kissing, and Charles had flushed the loo quickly and ran back to his room.)

Now, with the beautiful blue eyed boy standing in front of him, Charles thinks of Papa's words again. Our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow.

Charles thought it would be a girl who really liked karting, but this is even better. This is a boy who wins at karting, because he's holding a trophy in both hands and grinning like he couldn't be happier.

Of course Charles' perfect match would be someone who wins at karting. It's only right, because Charles also wins at karting.

Charles clears his throat. "Hi," he says shyly, and the blue-eyed boy jumps.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he says apologetically, and then he laughs. He has a nice laugh, Charles thinks - like he knows how to have fun. "You are a bit short," the blue-eyed boy adds, and hey.

"Hey," Charles protests. "I'm tall for my age. I'm seven."

"Well, I'm nine," the blue-eyed boy says, like that's the most impressive age in the world.

It is a bit impressive, but not very, because Lorenzo is much older than that. Still, it is a little scary - Charles is only seven. What if this blue-eyed boy doesn't like him because he's only seven? Older kids can be mean like that.

No, he is your perfect match, Charles reminds himself. This blue-eyed boy won't be mean to him, because that's not how perfect matches work.

Charles takes a deep breath, then he sticks out his hand. "I'm Charles," he says.

The blue-eyed boy takes his hand, and it feels... weird. A little bit like when you get shocked by static electricity.

Charles giggles, unable to stop himself, and the blue-eyed boy smiles, as though he likes that.

"Hello, Charles. I'm Pierre," he says, squeezing Charles' hand. His eyes widen a moment later. "Oh! You've met your soulmate?!"

Charles doesn't understand what he means. "Well, yeah," he says. "It's y-"

And then he notices it.

Pierre's soulmate timer, right there on his wrist, right above where Charles is gripping his hand - it's still ticking.

Now, Charles doesn't know a lot about soulmates yet, but he knows that that's not good. Not good at all.

"I, um," Charles stammers, and then he does the one thing Maman and Papa said you should never do to your soulmate. Charles lies.

"I met so many new people today. I don't remember who it was."

Pierre's face falls. "Oh," he says, and he sounds unbearably sad for Charles. "But..." He chews his lip, shaking his head with a deep frown.

Then, mid-shake, Pierre's expression changes to one of determination. "I will help you find them," he says, with the kind of confidence Charles can only dream of when he's not on the racetrack.

He tugs on Charles' hand - which he still hasn't let go of - and Charles is helpless to do anything but follow.

They don't find Charles' soulmate anywhere, of course, and then Charles has to go win his race - but Pierre makes him promise that they will find each other at the next French karting event, and Charles will tell him all about his soulmate.

Charles promises, even though the idea makes his stomach feel all funny. I shouldn't be lying to my soulmate, he thinks, guiltily.

But Pierre's soulmate timer didn't stop ticking, and... that's not how soulmates are supposed to work.

The moment he's in the car with his father after the race, heading back home, Charles asks him about it.

Papa is quiet for a long moment, then: "Are you sure there wasn't someone behind Pierre, Charles?" he asks, in his careful, kind way. "Someone who's timer stopped at the same time as yours?"

Charles thinks about it for a moment, but even the idea of that feels - wrong, somehow. Like going into a corner and knowing you braked too hard, and you're going to flip the kart.

He shakes his head decisively. "No," he says. "It's Pierre."

He hears rather than sees his father blow out a soft sigh. Charles catches his eye in the rearview mirror, feeling confused and a little shaky inside.

When Papa sighs like that, it's never good news - it's usually something about sponsorship, which is a word Charles is already coming to dread.

It doesn't make sense how this could be about sponsorship, though. It probably isn't.

Charles waits for his father to gather his thoughts, like he needs to do sometimes to make sure he says exactly what he means. (It's something Maman keeps telling him he should try doing as well, but he's not so good at that yet.)

"You know how even the greatest racing drivers make mistakes sometimes?" Papa asks.

Charles frowns, but he nods. "Yes?"

"Sometimes the universe is like that, too. Sometimes the universe makes a mistake, and stops the timers too soon," Papa explains.

Charles frowns. He hasn't heard about that before, but he guesses it makes sense. It's true what Papa said - not even Senna was a perfect driver who never made mistakes. It makes sense that the universe is the same.

"But this doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, okay, Charles?" Papa says before Charles can spend too much time thinking about the whole thing. His voice is firmer than Charles was expecting, and he reaches up to tilt the rearview mirror to see Charles better.

"It doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate," he repeats, like he doesn't want Charles to ever doubt that. "It just means it's going to be a little harder to find them."

Charles frowns, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. Isn't the whole point of soulmate timers to make it easier to find your perfect match?

It's just his luck that his soulmate timer doesn't work properly.

"I understand," Charles says, though, because he can tell it's important to his father.

Papa nods, but he keeps watching Charles in the rearview mirror for the rest of the drive, like he sometimes does after a race where Charles crashed the kart badly and he needs to keep making sure that Charles is fine.

Of course Charles is fine. He doesn't think this is comparable to a bad race at all! It's a little annoying, yes, but it's not that bad. It's just a bit of extra work, isn't it?

Charles shrugs his shoulders, glancing quickly down at the stopped soulmate timer at his wrist.

Whatever. Racing is more important than soulmates, anyway.

Almost twenty years later, Charles still says that to himself almost every day, even if he doesn't believe it with nearly the same careless seven-year-old confidence anymore: racing is more important than soulmates.

It is, because it has to be.

The thing is this: his father's explanation to Charles' seven-year-old self had been true - if a little oversimplified, and painted with an overt layer of kindness.

The truth Charles knows now is that there are two reasons, two categories, for people whose timers stop when the other person's keeps running.

One is, like Papa had said all those years ago, a simple case of mistaken timing - cases where the universe or fate or whatever controls it all stopped one person's timer a little too soon, or the other's a little too late.

It's harder to find each other in those cases, but it's still quite possible.

And then there's the second category. The unrequiteds. People whose timers stopped at the right time - when they met the person who would be their perfect match - except that they are not that person's perfect match in return. It only goes one way.

It's rare, but it happens sometimes. No system is perfect, after all - not even a system of soulmates.

For years and years, Charles tried to convince himself that he fell into the first category. His soulmate timer simply stopped too early, by some cosmic accident - but it's okay, Charles insists to everyone who asks and to himself as well, because what it's done is given Charles more time to focus on his racing instead. He's not constantly glancing down at his wrist and wondering when his timer is going to stop ticking - he can just get on with the racing.

He'll find his soulmate eventually, but on his own terms. There's nothing bad about that, surely.

Charles believes that. Really he does.

Except.

Except, if it's true and Charles falls into the first category - the mistaken timing category - then it would mean Pierre isn't his soulmate.

Pierre, who kept the promise he'd made to a seven-year-old who wasn't even his soulmate (because, yes, he had found Charles at the very next French karting cup, and he'd asked to meet Charles' soulmate - and when Charles had to admit that he still hadn't found them, Pierre had hugged him and told him not to give up and that he would find his soulmate someday. Pierre had held Charles' hand and explained that his parents almost didn't find each other, but they did. So it might take Charles some time, but that was okay, because it had taken Pierre's parents some time too, but now they were happier than ever. He'd been so convincing, firm but kind and absolutely sure of himself, and he'd made Charles believe it. He also made Charles smile, genuinely and truly, when he promised he'd stick by Charles' side no matter what anyone else said or whispered about his stopped soulmate timer.)

Pierre, who kept that promise about sticking with Charles, too. Pierre who never stopped being kind, and loyal, and the best friend Charles could ask for, whether he was seven or thirteen or nineteen or twenty-six.

Honestly, how was Charles supposed to not fall hopelessly in love with him?

He tried to deny it. For years and years, Charles tried to deny it - I will find my soulmate someday and it will all make sense, he'd tried to convince himself - but the thing was, what made more sense than Pierre being his soulmate?

It was roundabout the time of Pierre's first win (when Charles was standing under the podium in Monza with an aching back but a heart soaring with joy for his best friend despite the disaster of his own race) that Charles resigned himself to the truth: Pierre is his soulmate.

He has to be. Isn't a soulmate meant to be your perfect match; the person who understands you better than anyone and makes you happier than any other person in the world?

There's nobody else who could make Charles as happy as Pierre does. Nobody, nobody. There's no point in even trying to deny it anymore.

Pierre is his soulmate. But he is not Pierre's.

And that's okay. It's okay.

It has to be.

It isn't okay, not really, but that's true of a lot of things in Charles' life, and he's learned how to deal with them. He can deal with this, too.

On the whole, Charles thinks he does a pretty good job of dealing with it. He gets to be Pierre's best friend, after all - isn't that just a different kind of soulmate? True, Charles might want more, but it isn't like he has nothing. He has Pierre, and he will have Pierre for the rest of their lives.

Not in the way he wants, but - at least he will have Pierre.

The one thing he tries never to think about is Pierre's actual soulmate. Because Pierre has one, he knows, and he will meet them at some point.

Charles doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to look at some soulmate of Pierre's, and smile at her, and not be hopelessly, heartbreakingly jealous.

(He will do it, though. He will learn to smile at Pierre's soulmate - for Pierre's sake. He'll do it for Pierre.)

But that's a bridge he will cross when they get there. He doesn't have to worry about it yet (or at least, that's what Charles keeps telling himself even as the months tick by, and he knows there aren't year figures left on Pierre's soulmate timer anymore. Just months now, and then... weeks.)

Charles isn't thinking about it. He's put it out of his mind completely - which is easy enough to do, thankfully, given everything that's been happening on-track this season.

That's probably why he accepts Pierre's invitation to dinner in Montreal without thinking twice about it. (Even if he had realised, though, Charles doesn't think he would have been able to say no, either. He would give Pierre everything, if he only asked.)

So they go to dinner in Montreal, and it's perfect, and wonderful, and laughter-filled, and all in all exactly what Charles needed to distract himself from the fact that he has yet another engine penalty, and the sinking feeling that the championship is beginning to slip out of his reach.

Pierre seems to realise it, because he's in even finer form than usual - teasing Charles and tickling his ribs playfully and making him laugh at every possible opportunity.

Even on the drive back to the hotel: they stop at a red light, and Pierre steals Charles' cap, and Charles is giggling and filming it while Pierre is giggling back, and he's pretty sure neither of them are thinking about it at all, until-

Until Pierre's face changes from laughter to something almost ashen. "Charles," he says, and for all the years Charles has known him, he's never once heard Pierre's voice like that. "My soulmate timer just stopped."

For a few seconds, the words don't even register in Charles' mind.

Then they do, and Charles can feel his heart drop. "What?" he breathes.

His hands shake, and he doesn't even register the fact that the light has gone green as he glances all around them, craning his neck to see if there's anyone behind the white Ferrari, or around to the side.

Just a few minutes ago, their car had been surrounded by fans on all sides, all jostling to try and get pictures of them. But now, somehow, they're all alone in the Montreal night.

(The irony of it all is not lost on him - is this how Pierre felt all those years ago, when he was trying to look for Charles' soulmate at a karting cup, but not finding anybody it could be?)

"Are you sure it stopped just now? And not earlier?" Charles asks, willing his voice not to shake.

"Yeah," Pierre whispers. He sounds... devastated.

"But," Charles says, and then he has to take a deep breath. "But there's no-one else here, Pierrot."

"I know," Pierre says, somehow even softer.

Charles' fingers clench reflexively around the steering wheel, and he's moving in blank autopilot as he puts the car into gear and starts driving forward again.

He doesn't even realise he's shaking his head until Pierre says softly, "Charles." There's something wounded about it.

Charles stops shaking his head and slams on the brakes instead, jerking the car into something he hopes is a parking space at the side of the road.

"I don't understand," he says, far more calmly than he feels. "You can't - I can't be your soulmate."

Okay, maybe he's not so calm after all. But he doesn't think... he doesn't think anyone would be calm, in this situation.

Pierre makes a sound that could almost be a laugh, except that it sounds too strangled. "Do you know," he says, "that I have spent half my life wondering if the soulmate system got something wrong in my case? Because if you're not my soulmate, then who is? Who could possibly..."

Pierre does laugh this time, shaking his head. "You know, I asked to go out with you tonight for a reason. I knew - I knew it would happen tonight, so I needed to..." He swallows. "I needed to see you, one last time. Before I wouldn't be allowed to love you anymore."

It jolts through Charles then, what Pierre is trying to say. "Pierre," he breathes, and now it's his turn to say his best friend's name in a way he doesn't think he's ever said it before.

But Pierre's not finished yet. "I thought I could have one last night with you," he says. "One last night, before I had to say goodbye to my feelings, and try to love someone else."

My feelings. Try to love someone else.

Charles Leclerc is a lot of things, but an idiot is not one of them. He knows what Pierre is saying. He's...

Pierre loves him too. All along, Pierre has loved him too.

Only, he never had the option of thinking we're soulmates, Charles realised, and his heart twists in his chest.

Because Charles, for all that he accepted his soulbond toward Pierre was unrequited - at least he'd had the option of them being soulmates. Yes, it was in a twisted way, but at least he'd had that.

Pierre didn't. And he still fell in love with Charles.

The thought hits him like a shell-shock, and it's enough that Charles can only sit there for a moment, staring blankly, as Pierre continues talking beside him.

"I meant for tonight to just be a quick dinner together, something fun but normal for us," Pierre is saying, wringing his hands. "But I lost track of time. I always lose time when I'm talking to you, Charlito, I could talk to you forever - but the point is, I forgot to tell you I need to go back. I forgot that I was meant to meet my fucking soulmate tonight, because I was spending time with you, and - "

He takes a deep breath, and then he laughs again, leaning forward to drop his head into his hands. "I felt it happen, you know? I knew exactly when my soulmate timer stopped, because I could feel it, and it's - it was when I put that fucking cap on my head, Charles."

The cap that he's still wearing. Charles' 16 Ferrari cap.

Charles' hands shake as he reaches out to touch it, just the brim. "Your soulmate timer stopped when you put my cap on," he says, because a part of him still can't believe that this is real, that he's not living in some kind of heartbreakingly wonderful dream.

Pierre straightens up so fast that Charles is left with his fingers dangling awkwardly in mid-air. "Yes," he says, suddenly looking wild, "but this doesn't have to change anything, Charlito, I promise. I will still help you find your soulmate, and I will - I'll learn how to live with an unrequited bond, it's -"

"No!" Charles interrupts, half-throwing himself across the car to catch hold of Pierre's hands. "No, no, no, no. No more unrequited bonds, Pierrot."

Pierre starts to shake his head, but then he stops in the middle of the movement. "What do you mean," he asks, very carefully, "no more?"

And suddenly, Charles feels giddy, of all things. "I mean, your timer didn't stop when mine did. So for years, I have thought that we can't be soulmates, or at least that you couldn't be my soulmate. But now your timer stopped when you put on my cap, so -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Pierre says, squeezing Charles' hands tightly. "What do you mean, my timer didn't stop when yours did?"

"Oh," Charles says, and then he winces, the weight of the only real lie he's ever told his best friend (the only real lie he's ever told his soulmate) settling onto his shoulders with uncomfortable heaviness. "Um. Well. Do you remember when we met, and you thought I already met my soulmate?"

"No," Pierre breathes, but it's not the kind of no that says "no I don't remember." This no is more like "no way."

"Yeah," Charles says, and he can't help but look down at his own wrist, where the soulmate timer has been stopped for years and years. "My timer stopped the moment I met you, Pierrot."

"You..."

Pierre doesn't look like he knows how to finish that sentence, but Charles understands him anyway. "How was I supposed to tell you? I was seven, Pierre, and your timer didn't stop. I thought it was a mistake for years."

"But?" Pierre asks, like he can tell there was a but.

Charles beams at him. "But, I realised that there was nobody else who could be my perfect match. So I thought you were my soulmate after all, but it was unrequited."

"Never," Pierre says with a fierceness Charles doesn't expect. "Charles, never. If I knew... if I thought I had even half a chance, I would have been with you anyway."

Charles tries to laugh, but it comes out all breathless. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would," Pierre argues, and his voice is heartbreakingly sincere. "I don't care. I would have chosen you."

Charles hears a punched-out noise, and it takes him a moment to realise it came from him. The next moment, he's unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing awkwardly over to sit on Pierre's lap.

It's not quite comfortable, because for all its luxury, the white Ferrari does not have a lot of leg space - but Charles doesn't think either of them give a single fuck, in this moment.

"I love you," he tells Pierre, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I've always loved you, but I never would have stood between you and your soulmate."

"Funny," Pierre says, his hands coming up to grip Charles' hips, "because that's exactly what stopped me from kissing you senseless."

"Well," Charles says, and if he grinds down just a little on Pierre's lap, he'll swear to everyone who asks that it was accidental. "It doesn't have to stop us anymore."

"Never again," Pierre agrees, tightening his grip on Charles' hips. "Never."

"So kiss me senseless, please," Charles whispers, and then he adds "soulmate," and that's what does it. Pierre surges up and kisses him, wild and desperate and more than a little clumsy, but without question the best kiss Charles has ever had. His own cap digs into his forehead a little, but Charles can't even bring himself to care about that - they owe too much to this cap now, honestly.

Maybe the universe does know what it's doing after all, Charles thinks. Maybe the universe just wanted to write a good story for them. A story that goes like this:

Charles' soulmate timer stopped when he was seven years old, and he met the boy with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Almost twenty years later, Pierre's soulmate timer stopped in a white Ferrari in Montreal, and Charles finally got to kiss the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, the man who is his best friend and his soulmate.

The odds of it working out this way have to be... a million to one, probably, or maybe even less.

But then again, what are the odds that two boys who met at a French karting cup and became friends with a shared dream would both make it to Formula 1?

Maybe the answer is just that Pierre and Charles have always liked beating the odds.

(50 Romance Prompts Ask Meme) <- not currently taking more prompts, sorry!

#50 romance prompts meme #piarles #piarles fic #myfic #soulmate timers au #*me writing this to try and banish my writers block* so it's just going to be a short little drabble!#you can tell i am a scuderia ferrari fan and delusional because LOOK what happened lmfao #i don't think you could call this ''short'' in any sense of the word #in fact it probably belongs on AO3 #OOPS #but i love it #i love it SO MUCH #we are so back babyyyyy #(like any good ferrari fan i fully expect to be saying ''it's so over!'' a week from now)#(but let's enjoy it while it lasts!!)#(SOULMATE PIARLES BABYYYYY)#(posted at exactly 16:26 my time too! this makes me smile <333)

54 notes · View notes

effervescentdragon · 7 months

Text

My lil contribution to @1016week Day 2 - social media. This is the snippet of my SF Admin AU which I started writing a long time ago for @welightitup (and @mssr-monagato which is a given). I hope you enjoy it! 😘

" - and this is why I think I would be a good fit for this job."

She isn't looking away from him, and he doesn't let himself show how much he is intimidated by that glare, even though he really, really is. He did everything right, said everything right, showed her his best work. He knows he did. There is nothing more he can do. They will either hire him or not.

God please, let them hire me. I need this fucking job. This is my last chance, and if I blow it, it's corporate hell with dear Dad, and I will die. I will literally die.

Her long, red nails tap on the glass table twice. He thinks this may be what doom sounds like. It sure feels that way.

"Mr. Gasly. You have an impressive portfolio, and your CV is one of the best I've seen. What I want to know is, what will you bring to this job? What is the thing that distinguishes you from all the other candidates for this job?"

Her eyes bear into his, and he swallows. Goddamn she is intense. Pierre knows the question, it is a standard question everyone asks in job interviews, and he knows the answer he's expected to give. He opens his mouth to say the prepared, standard spiel, but in that moment his eyes stop on the pictures hung on the wall behind her. They are all the same. Same poses, same settings, same camera angle. A whole wall filled with the same picture over and over again.

Fuck this.

"You're wasting opportunities here."

She raises an eyebrow, and her eyes regain some of the focus they've lost during the rest of the interview, as she was listening to his pitch, probably the twentieth one and identical to every other one she's heard during the day.

"Oh?" She says, and it sounds like a challenge.

Fuck it. Full send.

"Yes. You are sitting on a goldmine, and you are doing nothing about it." Pierre takes a deep breath. You can do this. He looks her straight in the eyes.

"You have the most beautiful and the most attractive driver on the grid driving for you, bar Lewis Hamilton, who is, you will agree, in a league of his own. Your driver is very easy on the eyes, he is kind, he is extremely good at what he does. And you are doing nothing to capitalize on that and attract more fans, when you could literally have your social media engagement, and with it the revenue, go through the roof."

She says nothing. He plows on.

"He has the looks, and he has the brains, and he has the mythological-like background and appeal. Hell, the Italian media calls him Il Predestinato! He is a Ferrari child through and through, he lives and breathes for this team, which is an angle that can be explored so well, and yet you do nothing. He is even willing to speak about the hardships of his life, although I personally believe he should be left alone about that." He clenches his fist. "And again, I reiterate - there is not a bad angle for the kind of face he has. And you need something new; something fresh. You know what I've found out as I did research on the perception of Ferrari in the public, in the target groups?"

"Enlighten me," she says, and Pierre forces his hands not to shake as he shuffles through his papers and pulls out printed-out screenshots. He points to the highlighted words repeating themselves on the pages.

"Outdated. Old-fashioned. Uptight. And a million other synonyms, all meaning one and the same thing." He looks back at her. She isn't looking away, and her expression is stone-like, but her eyes are flashing. He swallows the bile rising in his throat, because he can't believe he's about to say it.

"Boring. People think Ferrari is boring. Ferrari." He laughs incredulously. "The oldest team on the grid, the team that is synonymous with motor racing. The mythological team. The red cars. All of that, and it comes down to one thing. Boring."

He can't help but scoff, too deep in his spiel to care whether or not he is crossing the line. "Which is unimaginable to me, especially when you have the history," he points around the room at the pictures of very inportant people with the drivers and Ferrari personell, "the glory", he points to the trophys in the room, a mere dozen of what he knows are hunderds more, "and the beauty." He steels himself and shuffles the paper, pulling out a printed picture of Charles Leclerc, who is smiling at the camera bashfully.

He taps on the picture. His finger lands on Charles' dimple, and stays there.

"You need to utilize this, and even if you don't hire me, please, make whoever you hire use this - use him. Because otherwise, you're going to end up like Red Bull, after Daniel Ricciardo left." She twitches visibly. "Utterly unlikeable."

Pierre feels like he's just run a marathon. His breathing is irregular, and he makes himself calm down, repeating those meditation techniques his brother insisted on him knowing. The silence in the office is deafening suddenly, and he swallows around the lump in his throat.

"I see." Her voice is calm. "Thank you for your presentation, Mr. Gasly, and for this interview. We will be in touch."

Fuck. I completely blew it. Fuck.

"Thank you for the opportunity," he manages to say.

He goes to gather his papers, but she hums.

"Leave your research here, if you don't mind?"

It's not a question; not really. It's an order, given with an icy smile. He makes himself smile back even though his stomach seems to be turning like he's on a roller-coaster ride.

"Of course," he says, and removes his hand from the picture of Charles Leclerc's face. "Have a nice day, and thank you again."

She says nothing more, only inclines her head in a silent dismissal as he leaves the room. He passes the security in a daze, moving on auto-pilot right up to the moment when he's sitting in his car.

"Fuck," he says out loud. "Fuck, Pierre, you absolute fucking idiot."

He crosses his arms over the steering wheel, and then after a second, he lets his head fall forward too.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans. "I am so stupid!"

"Excuse me, sir, are you - Are you okay?"

Pierre groans again, because he is nothing if not dramatic, and turns to look at the person interrupting his mental breakdown through his driver's side window.

"Fuck," he says, eyes widening, because right next to his car, crouching in what looks to be a very awkward manner and looking at him through his window is nobody else but Charles Leclerc.

Charles Leclerc, the Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari and the one everyone is convinced will be a World Champion someday. Charles Leclerc, who is a thousand times more beautiful in person than he looks in any of the pictures online. (And Pierre would know, because - because he did research. For the Ferrari interview. And not anything else.) Charles Leclerc, whose voice is kind, and whose French carries the lilt of the Principality. Charles Leclerc, whose eyes are wide in an emotion Pierre cannot recognize in his shocked state. Charles Leclerc, who is - frowning.

"Excuse me, I saw you were in - in distress. And I - I wanted to ask if you maybe needed some help?"

"With what?" Pierre asks, then wants to kick himself, because his tongue was always quicker than his brain, and his brain is currently screaming Oh my God that is Leclerc that is Charles Leclerc oh my GOD on a loop.

"With.. with whatever you are distressed about?" Charles says, and Pierre thinks the way he scrunches his face, half-confused, half-deternined, is absolutely fucking adorable.

Then again, Pierre thinks Charles Leclerc is adorable all the time, so that's not a revelation.

"No, no, ah, thank you," he laughs, because he can't help it. The irony is painfully laughable and laughably painful simultaneously. "You are very kind, but my problem is," he grins, "myself."

Charles laughs with him, and there is something knowing and sad hiding behind that smile. It makes Pierre want to smooth out the curve of it. It makes him want to bite it.

"Ah, I know that feeling well, my friend." He grins, and his eyes are sparkling green, perfectly offset by the dark purple of his shirt. "I hope your problem becomes more manageable."

There is sincerity in Charles' voice, and a whole weight of knowing, of understanding. Pierre can feel his hands relax on the steering wheel, and his utter desperation fade away a little.

"Thank you," he replies. "I hope so too."

Charles just nods at him, and they look at each other in commiseration brought on by shared diapazon of feelings.

"I should be going," Pierre says, then thinks Oh hell, I fucked up one thing already today. Full send. "Unless you want to give me your number?"

Charles' eyes widen and he looks - unrealistically good. Nobody should be that good-looking, nobody can, because Charles is just unreal. This close, Pierre can see him clearly, and the little tiny imperfections - the bitten corner of his lip, the little patch of hair he missed while shaving, the red spot on his cheek - they all make him even more beautiful.

"I -" Charles starts to say, cheeks red and face surprised, then seems to steel himself. "I could do that." He smiles sweetly. "But only if you tell me your name."

Pierre's heart feels like bursting out of his chest, a thousand and one emotions flaring as he replies "Pierre Gasly. At your service, cheri."

#1016 week 2023 #f1 rpf #piarles #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing

41 notes · View notes

gaslybottoms · 7 months

Text

So, I'm rolling two days into one here for the official @1016week celebration. Today, we're celebrating day one - Monza, and day six - Montreal. This was always going to be a joint piece, because just like Piarles, you can't separate the destinations.

#1016 week 2023 #creating these patterns was a nightmare and a delight at the same time #i cant wait for you to see the rest of the week #day one monza #day six montreal

37 notes · View notes

wolfiemcwolferson · 7 months

Note

Can we have some wolfy shenanigans from tumblr user wolfiemcwolferson 👀

Hi Cara,

What if I wrote FREE DAY for @1016week as Werewolf Pierre.

I hunger for you only is out and PLEASE MIND THE TAGS FOLKS!

#1016 week 2023 #Free day fic #Piarles #werewolf

23 notes · View notes

chaesonghwas · 7 months

Text

you and me would be (a big conversation)

my contibution for day 2 of @1016week - social media: actors au + fake dating!

When the media pairs up Pierre with Esteban of all people, Charles steps in to help. It doesn't quite go as planned.

#1016 week 2023 #1610 #justi writes #piarles fic #piarles fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

your-littlesecret · 7 months

Text

the day I was most excited about!

day 3 of @1016week- blasphemy.

a mortal instruments au only seemed fitting. warlock x shadowhunter? [indiscernible screeching]

pulvis et umbra sumus

T, pierre/charles, 5,3k

Blasphemy Great disrespect shown to something Holy. The action or offence of speaking sacrilegiously about sacred things; profane talk. And what could be a greater disrespect than Pierre and his demonic blood, loving Charles, an angel in essence? Descensus facilis Averno est.

#1016 week 2023 #bubbles posts #bubbles write tag #piarles #f1 rpf fic #the target audience of this one is: me #sure if you like it feel free to claim it too #but yeah I just couldn't hold myself back

14 notes · View notes

fenesacha · 7 months

Text

plug me in

a fanfiction for day 2 (social media) of @1016week ❤

ship: pierre/charles rating: gen word count: >1k tags: alternate universe - twitch streamer charles, established relationship, short + sweet

After a long race, Pierre logs into Twitch and clicks on Charles' stream.

find it here

#1016 week 2023 #oh yeah i write too #piarles #f1 rpf

18 notes · View notes

1016week · 4 months

Text

1016 Week 2023 - The Round-Up (Part 2)

Hello again, fellow Piarlies ❤️💙 Like we said here, we'd like to invite you all to come celebrate Piarles with us here on Tumblr! Today, on the 26th (AKA, the 10+16th) we are celebrating our beloved squid boys by posting the final round-up of all content created for 1016 Week 2023.

It turns out that all our Piarles content was too powerful for just one post - you guys blew us all away with the sheer amount of content you created, and apparently you blew Tumblr away too, because the Part 1 post broke the character limit 🤭 So, here is Part 2 of the official 1016 Week 2023 round-up! Don't forget to give our wonderful creators some love in the form of reblogs, replies, kudos, comments and bookmarks ❤️💙

Day 5 - Boat

I pick you up and take you through the night by @wolfiemcwolferson [fic]

Pierre and Charles have an understanding - things work a certain way. Pierre decides to change that.

we're made of starlights by @your-littlesecret [fic]

“We should go.” Charles says, breathless from the run from the office. “Go? Where are we going?” Pierre frowns, tilting his head slightly. “The boat. Anywhere. Everywhere. We should go.” Charles pants but Pierre seems to not be understanding it yet so Charles takes a deep breath to steady himself and takes another step forward. “Do you remember when we were young? We had the dream, of travelling the world on the boat. We can do it now. We should go.”

king of my heart by @chaesonghwas [fic]

Back on Daniel's yacht, Pierre has some time to think... and stare at Charles' abs, just a little bit.

i'm bound for the heart of the ocean by @duquesademiel [fic]

Pierre is the reason Charles is alive, and for that, he can’t be anything other than incredibly thankful. As much as Charles had always admired the sea, he’d never had the intention of dying surrounded by her. Pierre rescued Charles from a shipwreck and brought him into a life of piracy. It's not what he'd always hoped for, but he finds it definitely has its perks.

I’m Never Gonna Waste My Love On Anyone Else by @espithewarlock

“Pierre, what the hell is this?” “Are you saying no?” “Am I saying…what the fuck…I’m not…you haven’t even asked me a question!” “It doesn’t seem like I need to.”

Day 6 - Montreal

montreal is for lovers by @chaesonghwas [fanmix]

Monza + Montreal embroidery by @gaslybottoms [cross-stitch]

Taller In Another Dimension (Playlist) by @wolfiemcwolferson [playlist]

I wish I could have you in secret by @your-littlesecret [fic]

Charles reminds himself he’s not there on vacation, he’s there on a mission – that he still doesn’t know what it is. So those luxuries don't matter and Pierre- well, he matters but only because they’ll have to work together on this. Or: Charles and Pierre have to pretend, once again, to be in a relationship so they can succeed in the mission. But something is different this time.

my way back (to a life i would choose) by @duquesademiel [fic]

“What did you mean?” “Maybe we should…” “No, no maybes, Pierrot, like ten years ago. What are you saying?” The year is 2032, and Charles and Pierre have a conversation to finish.

Another Window To Break Out by @espithewarlock [fic]

It started out innocently enough. A friend of a friend knew about a job opening and recommended him for the role. One very quick interview and job offer later, and Charles was uprooting his life to move to Montreal. Piercing blue eyes stared back at him on the other side of a firm handshake. “Pierre Gasly, nice to meet you. Welcome to Stroll Engineering and Architecture.”

together in our imitation leathers by @fenesacha [fic]

Charles swears that he's trying to break his streak of dating assholes, honest. Pierre seemed like a nice, respectful young man until he propped his feet up on the dashboard of Charles' Ferrari.

piarles + soulmate timers AU by @singsweetmelodies [fic]

Charles' soulmate timer stops when he is seven years old, and he meets the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

Day 7 - Traditions

It Was Love in a Minute by @espithewarlock [fic]

All Charles wanted was Pierre, sitting across from him at a too-small table, legs tangled together, tucked away in a hidden corner of a cafe.

never coming down with your hand in mine by @duquesademiel and @wolfiemcwolferson [fic]

Pierre, as the oldest of the two, often takes the lead on their firsts. That's their little thing, their tradition of sorts: any big first step in their relationship is taken together, but suggested by Pierre. Except for one. The five times Pierre took the first step, and the one time Charles did.

i watched it begin again by @your-littlesecret [fic]

Pierre feels like it becomes a tradition. Every Friday, Pierre sits with Charles on his favourite table and they work side by side until one of them needs to go home or has something they need to go to or friends that want to do something last minute.

swear to be overdramatic and true by @chaesonghwas [fic]

Charles' birthday is coming up, and Pierre knows exactly how he wants to celebrate their annual tradition.

tied with the same thread (unconditional) by @singsweetmelodies [fic]

Charles sways forward, leaning fractionally into Pierre's touch. He looks… exhausted. Pierre's heart pangs, and he tightens his grip on Charles' hoodie, using it to tug him gently through the door and into Pierre's house. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last. He and Charles have… something almost like a tradition, for after tough races. They go to each other's places, and no matter how late at night it is, they always unlock their doors for each other. They are each other's confidantes, each other's safe places. They can talk about anything and everything, or they can forget about the rest of the world and just be for a little while.

give me a chance, let me tell you (if i can) by @yukierres [fic]

5+1 times Arthur interrupted them and the one time he didn’t.

a king under your control by @fenesacha [fic]

Charles sees a field of daisies and a crude leather ball, floating unnaturally in the air between them, and then a boat with a rug that stays impossibly dry, and in both, a boy with bright blue eyes and an impish grin. A boy who was present for most of his life, until he left to study music and his world fell apart. So, really, he should've known this would be the gods' answer.

❤️💙

#1016 week 2023 #1016week #event masterpost #1016 week 2023 final round-up #❤️💙

23 notes · View notes