wolfiemcwolferson

[wolfiemcwolferson]

This is more punk than the whole of punk history.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I don't want to write fic that's "good", I want to write a fic that hits someone's id so hard it changes their brain chemistry.

#I just reblogged this but then I kept scrolling and got to phoebes tags of #me #except i did this with guard dog and now im never going to be normal again #so like. watch out #<- and I’m the person in question who has had their brain chemistry changed forever and oh my god #the WAY THAT FIC HAS RUINED ME FOREVER #Piarles

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I don't want to write fic that's "good", I want to write a fic that hits someone's id so hard it changes their brain chemistry.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

People are getting really really fascist about peaceful protesters and it’s getting scary lol

[wolfiemcwolferson]

charles wants to be bred soooooo much. he is rehearsing with leo.

sorry for this

anon i have literally been talking about this very sentiment to @wolfiemcwolferson for HOURS. do not apologize. you're right and you should say it

#yeah!!!! #the true perceivers get it

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Genuinely thinking about making a Chloe stroll side blog so I can talk and not torture all yall

#Chloe stroll

[wolfiemcwolferson]

#i - #yeah

[wolfiemcwolferson]

something i think a lot of able bodied people dont understand is that being chronically ill affects your emotions. constantly being exhausted and feeling bad is going to make you sad or depressed or angry or jealous. constantly being in pain is going to affect your mental health. never feeling "good" is obviously going to affect the way you act.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I truly never realize how many people I follow who happen to be Argentinian until something happens and I have to use my detective skills (Ask Sol) to figure out who we hate today and why.

#I know we’re mad at the government but can I still move in with yall #real question

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I am meant to post a chapter this weekend, but it’s not going to happen. My mom is visiting and doesn’t leave until Thursday afternoon so. I’ll see y’all the weekend after Miami!!

Charles Leclerc was maybe one of the biggest pop stars in the world until he burned it all down. One year of sobriety means that the label wants their album - an album he can't write - and the answer might just reside inside his not quite ex-boyfriend that is a fantastic song writer and producer.

ao3

#first bloom #Piarles

[wolfiemcwolferson]

@boxboxbrioche and @effervescentdragon and @duquesademiel have all tagged me for my last line with no context sooooo.

“You gonna die over there?” Jake asks, and Pierre wonders if he’s making up the hopeful tone in his voice. Like he’s been waiting for Pierre to choke to death on coffee in the office.

🤭 tagging @miamierre for NO REASON

[wolfiemcwolferson]

HE SHAVED. I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF

#WE CANT HAVE ANYTHING #WHAT IS THE POINT IN LIVING

[wolfiemcwolferson]

*minces onion and garlic for you with romantic intentions*

#phoebe gets it

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hey white leftists

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Like sorry to every other single piece of fanfiction I’ve ever read but nothing has fucked me up more than Phoebe’s stupid little Guard Dog fic that has set me down this path of [redacted]

#goddamn if I could go back in time and snatch that fic away from us I wouldn’t

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I'm fairly certain you've done this before for Piarles, but no. 12? 👀

12. Whoops I accidentally fell in love with the sex worker I've been involved with (OnlyFans, exotic dancer, full-service, whatever)

Charles, nursing the world's most irritating headache, doesn't think twice before pressing FaceTime on Pierre's contact information. It's been—well, exhausting doesn't cover how stretched thin he'd gotten at work today, the grad students working alongside him somehow managing to push all of his buttons at once like they're freshmen again. He loves being the head of the research department, he does, it's just…sometimes, the work feels too big for him.

That's usually where this comes in—Pierre.

It's a little embarrassing, if he thinks about it for too long, how this all came to be: Charles had been shut in during the pandemic, desperate for any kind of connection, and he'd shelled out a pretty ridiculous sum of money over the course of the first year on OnlyFans, of all things. Specifically, the OnlyFans of one Pierre Gee, who's just about the most devastating camboy Charles had ever scrolled past. The first video of him fucking himself and his hand, back-and-forth in the most hypnotizing manner Charles had ever seen, was enough to sell Charles on the first one-time payment.

And that was three years ago. Pierre had reached out to him after the first year of Charles' faithful subscription to ask if he'd wanted anything specific, as he's somehow the biggest subscriber Pierre has, and that's…kind of how this all started. They talk offline often, not even necessarily for sex, and Charles would call him a friend if he didn't fantasize about Pierre fucking him on camera for one of his triple-diamond exclusive videos so frequently.

"Charlot," Pierre answers as the call connects, expression warm and filling Charles' screen in a way that makes his stomach twist. "How are you, cherie?" He looks…glossy with sweat. Charles raises a brow. Pierre sees it. "I am just, ha, getting off work." He winks at the lazy joke, then uses some discarded item of clothing from offscreen to mop up the sweat on his forehead.

"Of course you are," Charles answers flatly, although he can't swallow the giggle when Pierre rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "I am too, although I'm sure my day was less exciting than yours." It must be something, doing what Pierre does. Charles spends all day cooped up in a library while Pierre probably gets to work from home and play with himself to his heart's content. The thought of him alone pleasuring himself makes Charles shiver. He can't think about that, not right now—he hadn't called for Pierre to get him off, he'd called because he wanted to hear Pierre's voice and talk to him.

"Exciting is not the word I would use," Pierre hums, settling back in whatever he's sitting on so that the camera briefly slips off his face and onto his (of course) broad, bare chest. Charles swallows thickly. "Today was not exactly a thrill to work."

The thought piques Charles' interest, despite himself. "Oh?"

Pierre grimaces. "Weird client," he answers. "Asked for something…" he wrinkles his nose at the thought of it. Charles is even more curious, especially because the list of things Pierre does do is so long that there's not a thing he can think of right now that would make him react like this. "I came, but like. It took some extra effort."

It's crazy, how he talks about sex so casually. Charles can't even say the word cum without turning purple with embarrassment, and here's Pierre, just blase about having to orgasm while on FaceTime. He hadn't even blinked. "Oh," is all he can muster in reply. The world is just different for the two of them.

Pierre can see it on his face, apparently—the disbelief. "But you did not call me to talk about my day," he murmurs, mouth curving sweetly into that smile Charles likes to pretend is just for him. "How was your day, ma belle?"

Better since you picked up, he wants to say, and almost does. But he can't make this weird for Pierre—not after everything he does for Charles, all the calls he takes and the friendship that he continues to accept despite the strangeness of it. He's watched Charles jerk off to one of his new videos over FaceTime once or twice. Friends don't exactly do that with one another.

"Long," is what he settles on, and Pierre laughs brightly, bursting through his speakers.

"I thought you liked things long, Charlo," he teases, and Charles feels the way his ears just start burning. "Sorry, sorry, bebe, I shouldn't tease."

"It's fine," Charles answers, and is surprised that he means it. It makes this normal, almost. "I don't know, people are stupid and I wanted to talk to someone who, you know. Wasn't."

At that, Pierre's expression shifts ever-so-slightly. "People are stupid," he agrees softly. "In fact, you might be the only not-stupid person I've ever met." He smiles, small at first but slowly growing until it's stretched across his face so genuinely that Charles is breathless from it. He can't imagine knowing Pierre outside of this safe, digital space: he's certain he'd make a fool of himself a thousand times over if he could feel the warmth spilling off the other man in waves.

That fact doesn't stop him from being a fool here and now, though. "Are you doing anything tonight?" Charles blurts the question like he's a kid in class with the answer, and immediately feels the embarrassment of it burn in his cheeks. So obvious in his yearning that he feels like he's being branded with it.

But Pierre's smile is unchanging. "Nope," he responds, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I have all the time in the world for you, Charles."

#Hello #phoebe has been teasing me about this for months and she finally found it again and #IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT #fic rec fic rec fic rec #PIARLES

[wolfiemcwolferson]

"you look ridiculous, you know." charles is smirking at him when pierre opens the hotel room door, not even bothering to glance around the hallway before letting his best friend inside.

"it's nice to see you too," pierre drawls back. the moment the door clicks shut, he's turned around and staring right at charles, one eyebrow quirked. "you're going to have to be more specific, squid. is it the red? because--"

"i like the red," charles blurts out. his face blossoms with color a heartbeat later--probably at the knowing look that pierre can feel sitting on his face, but he can't help it. making charles squirm is his favorite pasttime.

"of course you do," he settles on, shuffling forward through the carpeted room in an attempt to lead charles further in.

it works. "shut up," charles protests quietly, face still burning up. but he's taking longer strides, now, and has closed the distance between them in no time at all. it's...magnetic, almost. they spend so much time together on the grid as it is, seeking one another out between every team-mandated event they're roped into, but charles' wrist bumps against pierre's hip and it's like they haven't spoken, touched, seen each other in ages.

there are names, for what this is. pierre tries not to look too much into it. instead, he does what he always does: focuses on what he has in front of him right now. charles is warm. pierre can feel the familiar heat of his body as he shuffles a little closer, the touch of his wrist turning into a full press of his palm as he closes in, drapes his other arm over pierre's shoulder.

"charles," pierre hums. he snakes both arms around charles' waist, locking his hands together to keep charles snared. "what is so ridiculous about me. if it's not the red, i don't..." he shrugs exaggeratedly, reminding him just how much charles trusts him with the full weight of his arm following the motion. he's comfortable here--in pierre's arms, in pierre's room, behind these four walls. they're safe. safe enough, anyway.

charles' ears get darker in color as he averts his gaze for a moment as if there's something over pierre's shoulder, although it finds pierre's quickly again nevertheless. "it's..." he sighs, then reaches up to press his hand flat to pierre's cheek. "this." then, to accentuate whatever he's talking about, he scratches at pierre's beard--which feels good, better than it probably should. pierre only lets his eyes close for a moment.

ah. "i thought you liked it," he answers back after a slightly-too-long beat to recover. "we're trying new things, no?"

charles wrinkles his nose, although he makes no attempt to separate himself from pierre's arms. "i like the mustache," he says, then scratches at pierre's cheek again. "this is..." he trails off. "it looks like it might hurt."

"hurt?" pierre shakes his head a little, confused. "it's only itchy, cha, why would--"

"i don't mean you, stupid." there's that blush again. pierre registers exactly what he means a split second later and chokes on a laugh. charles just rolls his eyes and keeps talking, the blush in his cheeks starting to fade. "i remember when you were with toro rosso, and the beard was a new thing that you were so proud of..." a reminiscing smile flickers across his face. "you would take such good care of it, pierrot, it was all you could think about."

pierre snorts. he does remember that--taking the step into formula 1, bringing a new look to his new life. he'd been meticulous about it to an almost neurotic degree that he's sure can be traced back to the red bull incident if he looked hard enough.

he's not going to do that now. "and now you think i look like a serial killer," he deadpans, and charles makes a show of shrugging about it. "you like all those shows anyway, you ass, don't even try to fool me." his best friend breaks into a grin, wide-eyed and dimply and so handsome, and pierre can't help it--he leans in the rest of the way and kisses charles square on the mouth, one that's reciprocated easily. charles is like putty in his arms, against his mouth. it's impossible to get used to. they have other lives, other people elsewhere that they should be thinking about, and yet...

all pierre wants is this: charles' pink tongue licking carelessly at his own bottom lip, pressed so close that each breath he takes is one that can be felt. there is no one else but them, now: charles hums and deepens their kiss, slotting his body where it's used to going as pierre draws them back to the bed step-by-step.

they part for air, and pierre sinks to the mattress. charles remains standing between his knees--if they had more time, if it were a different weekend, maybe he'd offer to lay charles across his lap the way he likes. pierre can see that he needs it somewhere down the line from the way he moves, not rigid but certainly not as loose as he could be, either. perhaps next weekend, when pierre flies out to the us and books a lavish penthouse suite to enjoy the sun before they kick into gear again.

"you know," charles hums, settling his hand gently against pierre's cheek once more. "it's not so bad, after all."

pierre tilts up a little to gaze at him--to relish the light on his jaw, the twinkle in his eyes, the ease here between them that he knows will be lost once the fight for the championship really begins for ferrari. "oh? what changed your mind, cha."

charles' mouth, a little shiny from their shared saliva, curves up into a wicked little smile. "i think the red," he muses, and then shouts when pierre tugs him down to the comforter--rumbling with laughter, easy under his touch, pleased little sounds slipping out of him as pierre tucks his face into the more sensitive skin of charles' neck.

"i'll show you red," he mumbles, muffled. all he gets in return is another bright, raucous shout of laughter in his own ear...and thinks, maybe, this season may not be so awful after all.

#phoebe I’m in your walls #Piarles #fic rec fic rec fic rec