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maroonsupremacy · 5 months

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F.I.N.E || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x teacher!reader Summary: When your student gets injured and you can’t get hold of her parents you try call an old contact number hoping he can help. Warnings: slight angst, fluff WC: 3.4K

Max frowned at the unfamiliar number calling him. If it wasn’t for the fact it was a local number he would have ignored it but since few people had his personal number he decided to answer it. Immediately he was hit with the sound of high pitch cries and a soothing voice softly singing a lullaby that eased the knot of anxiety that had formed in an instant.

“Hello, is this Max?” you asked when you realised the dual tone had stopped and the call had been answered. You shifted the child carefully on your lap and grabbed the old enrolment form to see the name again. “Max Verstappen?”

“Maxy?” the girl in your arms echoed with confusion.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m one of Penelope’s teachers. There’s been an incident and I found your number under her emergency contact list.”

“Oh no, sorry, there must be a mistake. You should call her mother or father. I’m not, we’re not, um, I shouldn’t be on that list anymore.”

You cringed as another piercing cry deafened your ear and you rubbed the little girl's back. “It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart, someone will be here to get you shortly,” you replied softly and you hoped it was the truth. “Look, Max, I’ve tried every other contact number and no one is answering. Is there any way you could come down here? At least until I can get in touch with someone else.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose but when he heard P’s shuddering cry he knew he had to go. “Okay, I’ll be there shortly.”

Max didn’t care if he got a parking ticket, he took the loading space right outside the preschool building. He likely would have gotten a speeding ticket too in his rush to cross the city but thankfully there weren’t any police in his path.

“Maxy!”

Penelope wriggled in your arms as she spotted the stranger walking into the classroom. His eyes immediately found her and he crossed the space to where you sat holding her.

“Hey, P,” he greeted with a smile and knelt down at your height. “What’s happened, bug?”

Her little eyes welled up again as she lifted her bandaged wrist. “I fell off the playground.”

“I don’t think anything is broken but I would suggest having her doctor check to be sure.”

“I don’t know who her doctor is. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re contact details were-”

“Those must have been from when she started. Her mother and I haven’t been together for a while.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry to put this on you. I swear I tried every other phone number we have.”

Max nodded and his sigh sounded exhausted as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I just need to make a call. I’ll be back in a minute, bug.”

Max walked along the room, looking over the children’s artwork as he pressed his phone to his ear and waited. Eventually the call went to voicemail and his spine straightened tensely. “Kel, I’ve picked up P from daycare and I’m taking her to the hospital. Call me when you get this.”

You could see the man was stressed when he returned and his short hair pointed in all directions from the hand he kept nervously running through it. It was cute.

“Daniil is in Italy this week for work,” Max said as he returned to your side and picked up Penelope’s Prada backpack before opening his arms. “I’ll keep trying to get a hold of Kelly. Come on, bug.”

Lunchtime was coming to an end and children were starting to file back into the room, a few of the older ones stopping at staring wide eyed at Max. He was tall but not that tall or formidable to draw such a reaction but your question was answered when one of the boys ran to his picture on the wall. Timothée unpinned the drawing of a race car and ran up to Max, holding it out with a pencil.

“Sir, can you please sign this?”

Max looked used to the attention and took the pen with a polite, “Sure.” He stared at the picture for the moment after signing it and chuckled. “Is the RB20?”

Timothée nodded eagerly. “It’s my favourite.”

“Mine too,” he said as handed the picture back and smiled as it was crushed happily to the boy's chest. Max then carefully picked up Penelope, slowly so she wasn’t jostled, and his arms brushed yours.

“If you need anything you have my number,” you reminded as the weight was lifted from your lap. “Children can be a little overwhelming if you’re not used to it.”

Max smiled fondly at Penelope and shook his head. “This isn’t new. I still have her room set up.”

“You do?” Penelope asked hopefully and Max turned his head as he cursed to himself. “Are we going to live with you again?”

“No, no, sorry, P,” he said softly. “I just haven’t had time to redecorate.”

“Oh.” You both winced at the defeated tone and you knew the fresh tears had nothing to do with her arm this time but you were saved by the bell as it spurred Max to toss the bag over his shoulder and look to the door.

“I hope you feel better soon, Penelope.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you,” Max echoed with a nod before departing.

All afternoon you were distracted with thoughts of the two of them until the final bell rang and you grabbed your phone. You had sporadically tried to contact Daniil and Kelly again but the calls went straight to voicemail every time and you found no returned calls.

Y/N: How is Penelope? Max: She is happy watching The Little Mermaid. She has a sprained wrist and the nurse complemented the bandaging so you should be proud. Y/N: And how are you? Max: I’m fine.

Max swore as the pot of water boiled over and he hissed as he grabbed the handle to find it was just as hot. He dropped his phone reaching for the teatowel and then P started calling out from the living room complaining that the movie was boring - the same movie she watched a thousand times and she had specifically asked for.

Y/N: My mentor used to tell me that stood for: freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Are you sure you are fine?

After turning the stove down to a simmer and wiping up the mess of water that had splashed across his floor he went and changed the movie to what would hopefully last longer than ten minutes before she changed her mind. Taking another attempt at making dinner, he grabbed a bag of pasta from his pantry and poured its entirety into the pot.

Max: I’m thinking I am definitely neurotic and possibly starting to freak out. Y/N: I couldn’t have that on my conscience. My offer still stands if you need some help. Max: You don’t have anyone you need to get home to? Y/N: My cat prefers his own company unless he’s hungry and he’s already been fed today so no. Max: I don’t want you to go out of your way. Y/N: I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to follow through. Let me help. Please?

Max smiled at his phone before sending his address and looking around to see how tidy the place was. His jacket was tossed on the table instead of being hung up and Penelope’s bag was spilled across the entryway floor, not the first impression he wanted to make.

You entered the port address into your phone and locked the classroom behind you, feeling a little unsteady at the thought of seeing Max again. Penelope was a sweet child and she seemed comfortable with Max but you hadn’t really ever heard her talk about him before. You told yourself the only reason you were going there was to check on your student's wellbeing, but a small part of you wanted to see Max again.

You wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard your knock on the door or that you had the wrong apartment and you rapped your knuckles on it again before he called out. There was a crash and then a groan close to the door before it swung open and Max balanced on one leg.

“Uh, is everything okay?” you asked as he clutched his foot.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he rushed before he caught the teasing curl of your brow and he froze before a smile grew on his lips. “Right, freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

“You’re a quick learner.” You stepped inside at his invitation and he closed the door behind you while you rushed towards the burning smell in the kitchen. “Oh, wow.”

“Fucksake,” Max grumbled as he grabbed a wet tea towel before reaching for the tray of garlic bread in the oven. “Ouch, shit!”

“You said a naughty word,” Penelope called out from the next room like it was something that she regularly commented on. “That's another 20.”

Max sighed heavily as he looked at a jar on the bench that was already filled with cash. “Shit.”

“I heard that.”

“Shouldn’t you be watching your movie?”

You giggled at the amusing conversation before turning the tap to cold and taking Max’s hand. “Wet towels and hot trays make steam.”

He watched you guide his hand under the water and flinched as it hit the burn mark on his palm. “I don’t usually cook, if you couldn’t tell.”

“The life of a bachelor. Keep your hand there.” You moved with ease around his kitchen trying to save what was left of dinner but paused at a huge pot of pasta that had swelled up and pushed the lid half off. “Are you expecting a dozen other people?”

Max shrugged innocently. “I didn’t know how much to put in.”

“Well the good news is the top half is edible,” you stated after finding a colander and draining the pasta until only a thick layer remained stuck to the bottom of the pot. “Do you have any sauce?”

“Sauce?”

“What were you going to have with it?”

“Garlic bread.” You both looked at the charred sticks still smoking on the baking tray.

“Do you mind?” you asked as you pointed to his fridge and the cupboards around the kitchen.

“No, please. Go ahead.”

You checked the fridge first and you were pleasantly surprised to find it well stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables. “Do you live off salads or does all this go to waste?”

“Neither, my nutritionist comes by twice a week and he prepares the meals.”

For a moment you had forgotten his profession. You had googled his name after Timothée couldn’t stop talking about meeting the ‘Max Verstappen’. “That must be intense, and restricting. Does your social life suffer?”

“It’s not so bad. I still get to go out for dinner and have a few drinks when I want.” He started to pull his hand out from under the water but you tutted and caught his wrist, holding it back beneath the cold stream.

“Keep still,” you warned with a voice you saved for children who weren’t listening. “It needs 20 minutes under there.”

“You want me to stand here for twenty minutes?”

“No, science wants you to stay there for twenty minutes.”

“Are you a teacher or a nurse?” he asked with a playful roll of his eyes.

“Depends if it's halloween.”

His loud laugh made you smile and you eased your grip on his hand one finger at a time to see if he would stay where he was. He did. “I’ll behave, Miss Y/L/N.”

“You can call me Y//N.”

“I kind of like calling you Miss Y/L/N.”

You checked to see if he was serious but thankfully there was a teasing smile on his face before you returned to the fridge to gather some ingredients.

By some small miracle dinner can’t have been too bad since everyone cleaned their plates of the pasta, though you thought they were likely being polite since you could still taste the hint of smoke from the bottom of the pan. Penelope had spent most of the meal asking Max if he remembered what they used to do when she lived there, how they used to go travelling and shopping. You got to see first hand how much patience the man had as he answered each question despite how it made him uncomfortable.

“You miss her,” you commented after she had gone back to the tv. Max started to collect the dishes with you and sighed as he placed them in the sink.

“It was a big change when they moved out,” he spoke quietly and you stepped closer so you could hear better. “She kept asking if she did something wrong.”

“That must have been hard for you.” His eyes widened and you wondered what shocked him, but you had a feeling it was the fact someone showed concern for him. Even though you didn’t know the details of the break up, it was clear he had and still did care for Penelope and you felt sorry for him. “Can I hug you? I’m a hugger and I feel like you could really do with one.”

“You want to hug me?”

You tried to shrug it off casually. “If you want to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everyone needs a hug sometime.”

“I do,” he said quickly, very quickly, before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I-I wouldn’t mind a hug.”

You smiled at his tentativeness and stepped into his personal space, slipping your hands into the narrow openings between his limp arms and his body to curl around his waist. It took a moment for him to respond before his own arms embraced the comfort and curled around your back too.

“You smell really good, Max,” you complimented as you rested your head on his chest and caught the scent of his cologne.

“Thank you,” he chuckled, the amusement relaxing him even more until his entire body curved into yours. “I think you have playdough in your hair.”

You hummed in agreement. “Highly likely. You wouldn’t believe the places I find that stuff at the end of the day, glitter too.”

His bold laugh made you smile and you didn’t care it was at your own expense, you were just happy to know it was because of you. Unfortunately you didn’t have the chance to hear it again as his phone rang from the countertop and you saw Kelly’s name light up the screen.

“I should let you get that,” you said as you stepped back, instantly missing the warmth and his scent. “I’ll go keep Penelope company.”

Max waited for you to leave the kitchen before he accepted the call, his calm state evaporating in an instant. “What the hell, Kelly? Where have you been?”

“My phone was on flight mode, I was on a plane. Is P okay?”

“Her wrist is sprained but she’s alright now.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to breathe. “Why would you leave her alone?”

“She wasn’t alone. Maria was meant to pick her up after school and I should have been home in time for dinner but my flight was delayed.”

“Who is Maria?”

“Her nanny.”

Max had to suppress the groan at the news. He knew Daniil hated the idea of a nanny and he had offered to have more custody so that P would be raised by her parents and not a stranger, but Kelly had vetoed that idea.

“Do you want to go out for dinner? I owe you.”

“No, we’ve already eaten.”

“Some other time then.”

Max made a non-committal sound, his eyes darting to the living room where he watched Penelope explain the movie to you. You were so attentive and patient, asking questions that had Penelope thinking deeper and using such a simple interaction as a learning opportunity. He could see why you suited being a teacher.

“Maybe,” he lied, “just let me know when you’re almost here and I’ll bring P out to you, I don’t want to confuse her any more.”

“Right, of course,” Kelly sighed. “I’ll see you soon, Max.”

Max made the most of the time he had left with P, abandoning the dishes so he could sit on the other side of her and watch the movie about a chef rat. She had cozied into his side with a yawn and nudged his arm until he eventually draped it over her shoulder. It was completely innocent but you couldn’t help noticing the heat of his hand touching your arm, the warmth spreading like wildfire.

The fire was doused when his phone vibrated and the moment to leave had come.

While he grabbed Penelope’s backpack, you grabbed your handbag and prepared your own goodbyes. It was silly to feel sad the evening had come to an end but you knew that you would likely never see Max again. You weren’t famous and he didn’t have children, your paths weren’t meant to cross.

“Have a good weekend, Penelope,” you said as you knelt down and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday.”

“Bye, Miss Y/L/N.”

You rose to your feet wondering where you stood with Max until he opened his arms. “Anytime you need a hug, you have my number,” you offered as you stepped into his embrace, no matter how unlikely that prospect was.

“Or if I’m feeling fine?”

You giggled and nodded against his chest. “Especially if you’re feeling fine.”

The walk to the elevator was slow, as if no one wanted the strange evening to end, but there was no stopping time as it began making its way down from the penthouse to the ground floor. The doors opened and you instantly spotted Kelly in the reception area, her elegant and effortless beauty reminding you that you still had playdough in your hair.

With one last look at the man beside you, you gave him a small smile and stepped away. “Goodbye, Max.”

He didn’t respond as you headed to the valet area but he pulled his phone out of his pocket and yours vibrated a moment later.

Max: Are you okay?

Y/N: I’m fine.

Max: Me too. Emotional, you?

Y/N: Insecure.

Max: Want a hug?

You stopped and turned to see Max hand Penelope’s bag over before struggling to separate the girl from where she clung to his leg. She didn’t know, couldn’t see how it was hurting Max, but you could. So you waited, and when the mother and daughter had departed you stepped into the elevator with the subdued man, slipping your hand into his.

The elevator rose quickly and you watched Max’s throat bounce with the deep swallow he made before he choked out a broken, “Fuck.”

“I feel like I should remind you about the swear jar,” you teased as you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. “But I’ll let you off this once because I have a soft spot for you.”

He looked down at you from the corner of his eye and you saw some of the sadness fading from them. “Does that make me the teacher's pet?”

You gasped dramatically and clutched your chest with your free hand. “I could never bestow such high praise after just one day.”

“What are your plans tomorrow then?” he asked with a smirk as the doors opened and he pulled his house key out of his pocket.

“I don’t have any.”

“Lovely, now are you going to answer my question?” He stepped inside the apartment and opened his arms. “Did you want a hug?”

Your smile chased away more of the shadows in his eyes and the last of it was erased when you stepped into his arms with an eager nod. “I will never say no to a hug.”

His chest bounced with a laugh and you felt him rest his cheek on your head with a contented sigh. “That is very good to know.”

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maroonsupremacy · 5 months

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Eras Tour Audio Master Post

Surprise song US leg master post

Surprise Songs Latin American leg master post

(Feel free to message me to get the surprise song google drive link)

♡ Lover era ~ Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince + Cruel Summer + The Man + You Need to Calm Down + Lover + The Archer

♡ Fearless era ~ Fearless + You Belong With Me + Love Story

♡ Evermore era ~ 'Tis the Damn Season + Willow + Marjorie + Champagne Problems + Tolerate It + No Body No Crime

♡ Reputation era ~ ...Ready for it? + Delicate + Don't Blame Me and Look What You Made Me Do

♡ Speak Now era ~ Enchanted + Long Live

♡ Red era ~ 22 + We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together + I Knew You Were Trouble + Nothing New + All Too Well 10 minute version

♡ Folklore era ~ Invisible String + The 1 + Betty + The Last Great American Dynasty + August + Illicit Affairs + My Tears Ricochet + Cardigan

♡ 1989 era ~ Style + Blank Space + Shake It Off + Wildest Dreams + Bad Blood

♡ Midnights era ~ Lavender Haze + Anti-Hero + Midnight Rain + Vigilante Shit + Bejeweled + Mastermind + Karma

Bonus: Rep Movie, Tour Movie Audios

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maroonsupremacy · 5 months

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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can <3

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maroonsupremacy · 6 months

Text

Your Friend Steve

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: it’s finally me and you, and you and me … just us, and your friend Charles

r/relationshipadvice

u/yourusername · 9h

My boyfriend (26M) and I (22F) cannot get a second alone!

The two of us have been together for a few years now. We met through mutual friends and really hit it off. He’s caring, thoughtful, and we have the best time together.

The issue is ... his best friend (26M) is ALWAYS around. And I mean always. We’ll be out to dinner and bestie will show up and pull up a chair. We’ll be cuddling on the couch watching Netflix and he’ll let himself in with the spare key and wedge between us. I swear this guy is like an overeager puppy sometimes.

The other day I came home with my boyfriend and bestie was there ... sleeping on MY side of the bed because he “got lonely” at his place. And don’t get me started on trying to plan a vacation for just the two of us. Without fail, bestie always finds out where we are and shows up.

I’m happy they’re so close and I’d never want to get between them or ask my boyfriend to pick. But his best friend is starting to feel like a third wheel in our relationship. I jokingly said to my boyfriend that at this rate, bestie will be part of our engagement and marriage too!

I could really use some outside advice. How do I kindly set some boundaries with my boyfriend’s overly-attached best friend? I want all of us to still be friends but the constant third-wheeling is getting to be a bit much.

u/relationshipguru123 · 8h

Wow, this sounds really annoying and awkward! Hate to say it but your boyfriend needs to step up and set some better boundaries with his friend. As close as they may be, it’s not ok for him to let his friend crash your alone time constantly. It’s disrespectful to you and your relationship. If your bf won’t address it, you’ll have to be the “bad guy” and talk to the friend directly to give him a reality check.

u/NeedMoreSpace · 7h

I feel you, OP! My sister deals with this with her husband’s best friend too. They even joked that the friend would be IN the delivery room when they have kids one day 😳 She finally sat down with her husband and told him that while she cares about the friend, she needs some lines drawn for their marriage’s sake. Maybe suggest setting one or two date nights a week that are just for you two? And no dropping in unannounced! Compromise is key.

u/BFFboundaries · 5h

This behavior would drive me CRAZY! You need to put your foot down with your bf and tell him his friend’s constant presence is affecting your relationship. Then talk to the friend together to make it clear you just need some alone time as a couple sometimes. If they don’t respect reasonable space, it will breed resentment.

r/relationships

u/DutchLion · 5h

Help! My best friend (26M) is cockblocking me without even realizing it!

I (26M) have been together with my girlfriend (22F) for a few years. She’s awesome — fun, hilarious, and crazy sexy. She puts up with my quirks and even likes watching sports with me. Absolute keeper!

The problem is, my best friend has NO boundaries. I love him like a brother but he has zero concept of personal space or alone time.

Just last night, my girl and I were enjoying some long overdue freaky time together, when who bursts through the bedroom door unannounced? Yep, my best friend. Turns out he “accidentally” made copies of my keys ages ago.

Before I can react, he’s jumped onto the bed between us asking what we’re up to. My girlfriend was mortified and hurried to cover up. There went the mood for the rest of the night thanks to Captain Cockblock!

That’s just the latest in a long string of intrusions. Double dates, surprise sleepovers in OUR bed, you name it. I’m going to have to lock down the apartment Fort Knox style to get any intimacy!

Don’t get me wrong, I would take a bullet for my best friend. But how do I politely tell him that constant third-wheeling is killing my game and giving me the most painful blue balls known to man? Is there a tactful way to set some boundaries so we BOTH stay sane and satisfied?

u/CantUnseeThat · 4h

Dude, I felt awkward just READING this! Major props to your girlfriend for being so chill. You gotta have a talk with your boy and set some hard lines. A real best friend would respect that your relationship needs privacy too.

u/Locks4aReason · 3h

Your friend needs better boundaries yesterday. Sit him down, tell him you get he’s lonely but he can’t just walk in whenever, especially when sexy times are happening! Maybe suggest setting him up on some dates so he finds fulfillments elsewhere.

u/needabroboundary · 3h

As much as you love your best friend, your personal life with your lady should be a priority over letting him run wild! Have a man-to-man talk and make it clear you just need some couple time a few days a week. Offer to schedule some designated bro time to keep that bond too. Gotta compromise.

u/needspace321 · 2h

Don’t feel bad about setting some hard boundaries, even if it bruises his ego at first. True friends will understand. Explain you just need some regular alone time with your gf. Offer a standing weekly bro night to keep the friendship intact too. You need to have that balance!

r/AmItheAsshole

u/PrinceOfMonaco · 3h

AITA for wanting to spend time with my best friend and his girlfriend?

Some background — my friend (let’s call him M) and I go way back to childhood. We’re basically as close as brothers. A few years ago he started dating his now serious girlfriend (we’ll call her Y).

Initially, I’ll admit I was worried M would drift away and our bromance would fade. But much to my delight, Y is awesome! She likes the same sports, laughs at my jokes, and comes to watch our competitions. Honestly it feels like I gained a sister!

Naturally, the three of us started hanging out constantly. I know me and M have always valued bro time together. But now Y joins our gaming sessions, I ride along on their date nights often, and I will even crash in their guest room after late nights! It’s been pretty great.

Or so I thought? Lately I’ve noticed them acting strange and tense around me. They barely react when I barge into their room or surprise them by their cars after work. Sometimes they pretend to be “busy” if I try making plans last minute.

I can’t figure out why though? Just the other day, I popped by to say hi only to have M rather sternly tell me I should “call before visiting from now on.” And I could swear I heard Y whisper about needing “boundaries” … whatever that means!

I’m starting to feel hurt they suddenly seem fed up with me! AITA here? Am I missing something? Someone help me decode these mixed signals!

u/needboundaries101 · 3h

YTA. I know you value your friendship but your total lack of boundaries is overbearing. Your friend is trying to set reasonable limits without damaging the friendship but you’re oblivious to all hints. Surprising them and inviting yourself along all the time is inconsiderate. Give them space!

u/respectrelationships · 3h

Soft YTA. I get you cherish the bromance and her friendship too. But constantly crashing date nights, unannounced visits, etc is cockblocking to the max! They likely feel too awkward to bluntly tell you that they need alone time too sometimes. Tone down the clinginess before you do permanent damage!

u/flying_solo · 2h

NAH but only because you seem genuinely unaware your behavior is an issue! Most people would have picked up on the hints by now. You should DEFINITELY be calling ahead before visits or tagging along to closed plans. Give them a chance to say no thanks. Gotta let your bro spread his wings too.

u/threesacrowd · 2h

YTA. You would lose your mind if your best friend was this invasive during your dates! When they make excuses or leave early, that’s NOT an invitation to join them unasked and uninvited next time! They’re just too polite to be harsh so I’ll spell it out — you have to give them personal alone time without taking offense.

charles_leclerc

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, and 1,273,948 others

charles_leclerc happy third anniversary to my favorite couple ❤️

View all 3,085 comments

maxverstappen1 thanks, mate!

charles_leclerc i’m going to pick up some dinner from that italian place we all like and i should be at your place in around 20 minutes

yourusername we really appreciate that, charlie. but you know … it’s our anniversary and we would like to celebrate alone

charles_leclerc i totally understand! that’s why i’m taking the food to go so we can celebrate alone with just the three of us

maxverstappen1 yeah but we want to ✨celebrate✨ you get me?

charles_leclerc you want me to stop and buy some sparklers?

yourusername what we’re trying to say is that we want to celebrate … in bed

charles_leclerc even better! your mattress is so comfortable and we can put some netflix on while we have a sleepover together

landonorris they’re literally spelling it out for you in black and white 💀

pierregasly mon ami, they’re trying to say they need some adult time tonight 😏 maybe skip the visit this once

danielricciardo how do i say this nicely … max and y/n are clearly desperate for uh, anniversary cuddles without you as the little spoon!

lewishamilton someone rescue my man charles from himself before it’s too late. praying the two lovebirds to get to celebrate properly tonight 😉

charles_leclerc of course we will all celebrate properly! i have champagne

roscoelovescoco read’s the room’s 🙄

f1wagupdates i can’t tell if charles is trolling them or if he genuinely doesn’t get it 😭

charles_leclerc what is there to get?

yourusername i give up 🤦‍♀️

yourusername … what flavor popcorn do you want for our sleepover?

charles_leclerc white cheddar, please!

3K notes · View notes

maroonsupremacy · 9 months

Text

Oh, he's JEALOUS jealous

Man, now that the angst is angsting I'm 300% more involved and interested

I love this fic so much, the characters and relationships are so well developed that the other day I saw some people talking about Max and it took me a second to remember that irl he's actually with someone and not pining for his roomate hahaha

Slow motion double vision in rose blush

Part 24 of the Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader social media au

A/N: I asked, the poll answered, I delivered…it’s another plot day. I hope you enjoy this part, I did get quite a few people interested in Y/N’s riding days and it inspired me. Also, can y’all believe there are Metaphor stans? I love that!

Tag list

@somanyfandomsbruh @eugene-emt-roe @reidsworld @lazybot @maxiel-jpg @sassyheroneckgiant @laneyspaulding19 @elliegrey2803 @ivegotparticulartaste @inthestars-underthesun @jayda12 @gaysontoast @baw-sixteen @stevesworld9 @motorsp0rt @obsessed-fan-alert @lifesuckslife @luciaexcorvus @dumb-fawkin-bitch @lickmeleclerc @goldeng1rl8 @trentwife @mynameisangeloflife @princessria127 @mcmuppet @hiraethrhapsody @toomuchdelusion @lxclerc @lpab @lordperceval-16 @larastark3107 @bangtanxberm @random-readers-world @bladestark @allenajade-ite @ironmaiden1313 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @buffysummrsx @kachoooow95 @bellalilo @samywhale @satellitelh @leclercdream @jamie2305 @illicitverstappen @vellicora @honethatty12 @sociallyinepludi @aundercover @raizelchrysanderoctavius @bellewintersroe @taylorslovesswifties13 @tyna-19

#fic rec #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfiction #i love angst whats new

868 notes · View notes

maroonsupremacy · 1 year

Text

A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack

Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃

A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:

He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.

He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.

Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.

The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.

The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.

He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.

Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.

“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.

It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.

Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.

Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.

His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.

You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.

An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.

Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.

He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.

Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.

With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”

Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.

“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.

However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.

“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.

Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.

“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.

“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.

“Baguettes?” He frowned.

“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”

Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.

The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”

Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.

You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.

“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.

“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.

Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.

“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.

However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.

“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”

You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.

By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.

Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”

However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.

His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.

“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.

With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”

“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”

His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”

The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”

“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.

“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”

“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”

That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.

“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.

Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.

“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.

✩★✩

A cake and a weird smell:

The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.

And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.

In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.

Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.

Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.

Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.

“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.

Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.

Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.

Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.

Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.

Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.

“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.

With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.

It was bad.

His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.

Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.

The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.

What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.

He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.

His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.

Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.

“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.

The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.

Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.

“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.

Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.

He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.

He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.

“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.

Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.

Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.

Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.

You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.

He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.

Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.

His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.

He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.

Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.

There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.

He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.

His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.

He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.

He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.

That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.

His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.

He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.

Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.

“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.

“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.

Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.

“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”

You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.

He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.

“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.

You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.

“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”

You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.

He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.

However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.

“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.

It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.

✩★✩

A flight and a bit of a fight:

Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.

For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.

Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.

It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.

Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.

He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.

“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”

No response.

He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”

No response as well.

“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.

He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.

He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.

“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.

He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?

Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.

“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.

“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.

“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.

Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!

“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.

“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.

“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.

“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.

“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”

The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.

All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.

“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.

Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.

You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.

“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.

“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”

With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.

“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.

You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.

“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.

On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.

“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.

✰★✰

A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:

Charles was so sure he had it covered.

As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.

He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.

Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.

He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.

Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.

Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.

He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.

Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.

His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.

He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.

Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.

Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.

“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.

“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.

“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.

“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.

“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.

Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.

“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.

“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.

“I’m sure, don’t worry.”

You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.

“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.

“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.

“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”

You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.

His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.

Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.

The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.

He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?

What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.

He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.

Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?

The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.

With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.

He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.

Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.

“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.

The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.

“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.

Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?

He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.

Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.

He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.

It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.

He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.

Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.

Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn’t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.

Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.

In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.

His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.

He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.

Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.

In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.

Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.

“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.

Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.

You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.

“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.

“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.

His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.

“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.

With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.

Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.

He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.

“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”

“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”

Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.

“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”

“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.

“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.

You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.

“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.

You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.

Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.

“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.

“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.

He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.

“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.

Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.

You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”

Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.

“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.

Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.

a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him

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maroonsupremacy · 1 year

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sluttiest thing man can do is wear his race suit on his waist.

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maroonsupremacy · 1 year

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the way he switches between Italian, french and english

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maroonsupremacy · 1 year

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maroonsupremacy · 1 year

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hard truths | mick schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 2 to disapproval - read part 1 here

after charles' comment sent you spiralling, you realize that the only person you can truly rely on is the one who will never be deemed good enough in your brothers' eyes, but that doesn't mean he's giving up on you.

word count: 3.4k warnings: none again except kind of asshole brother charles and a bit of poorly translated french, so sry

There was no way you could take Charles' call, not right now, not after just waking up and seeing that comment. You didn’t want to hear his half-assed, hungover apology. It wouldn’t mean anything.

All you could do was sit up in bed, the hotels’ white duvet pooled around your waist as you waited for Mick to get out of the shower, which seemed to take an eternity. When he did finally open the door, a cloud of steam following him, not even the sight of a towel sitting painfully low around his hips was enough to distract you. Your thoughts were too preoccupied on how the media was going to undoubtedly spin this.

“What happened?” Mick asked, knowing right away that something was wrong. He recognized the strained look on your face and when you glanced up from your phone, his heart shattered at the sound of your timid inhale.

As you started to explain the chaos that you woke up to, Mick began to get dressed. When you started going off for what seemed like the five hundredth about why your brothers were such assholes, he gave you his undivided attention as if this was the first time you were complaining about them.

Mick always knew what to do and say. He knew that you preferred to be heard than to be given advice. He knew that when you were angry, especially at one of your brothers, the best thing that he could do was show you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He let you pace back and forth in the hotel room as you started transferring your fears into spoken word, which was something that Mick had actually encouraged you to do months ago. He said that voicing your thoughts helped you realise how irrational they were, and you had to admit, he had a point.

But this time was different. You knew it. Mick knew it. Your worries were valid.

Mick suggested that the two of you head to the next race location earlier than everyone else. Not only could you take a few days to relax before needing to see Charles in the paddock, but it was also Monaco, your home. Your apartment was there, your friends were there, you’d feel more at ease in the comfort of your bed than you would in another hotel room.

So you packed up your bags and Mick called the front desk to have his car brought around front. The drive was a few hours, but maybe that was for the best. Five hours in a car with Mick seemed ideal, especially when you thought about turning your phone on airplane mode to silence out the rest of the world.

Mick grabbed both your luggage and his, rolling them behind him as you made your way to the elevator. When you stepped inside, you briefly checked in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look like a complete disaster, but before you could reach for concealer or mascara, Mick leaned down and kissed your cheek, not needing to say anything. That simple gesture alone meant that he would always think you looked beautiful.

The ride down to the main floor was tedious itself, but when the elevator doors finally opened, time froze.

Standing there, waiting to enter to presumably go up to his own room, was Charles. The dark bags under his eyes and the energy drink clenched in his hand gave away just how much last night had affected him. But regardless of how exhausted he looked, there wasn’t a single ounce of remorse on his face.

Nothing that indicated he felt even a little sorry for that comment.

He just stared at you, lips slightly parted as if he was going to say something but there was nothing for him to say. His eyes darted towards Mick who had tensed up the second he spotted your brother, but Mick didn’t say anything either.

There was a lot he probably wanted to say but this wasn’t Mick’s place to intervene, not yet at least.

The elevator doors tried to close because of the lack of movement in the cart but you were quick to slam the palm of your hand against it to activate the sensor, keeping the doors open. Charles flinched, as if thinking you were about to hit him. You should have.

“Nothing?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “You have absolutely nothing to say?”

“Oh now you want me to say something?” Charles raised his voice, not bothered by the handful of people in the lobby that were within earshot. “I tried calling you earlier and you didn’t answer!”

“I had just woken up!” You yelled back and Mick raised his hand to your back, a gentle reminder that now was not the time nor place to start a screaming match with your brother.

You glanced up at Mick who’s glare was still firmly locked on Charles and you shook your head helplessly, looking back at the person who was supposed to be there for you, supposed to support you and be happy for you. He was family for christ sakes.

Your phone chimed again, another notification that would certainly cause your blood to boil should you choose to open it.

“Media’s going insane with this. C'est ton problème. À toi de le réparer.” This is your mess, it’s up to you to fix it. You jabbed your finger against his chest and Charles backed up, not saying another word as he stepped out of the way for you and Mick to exit the elevator.

Mick grabbed the two suitcases and led the way towards the front door. You made sure to keep your head down. Even though this hotel was rooming mostly drivers and people from various teams, the last thing you needed was to be bombarded with questionable stares.

When you finally got into the car, Mick reached across the middle console to rest his hand on your thigh. You knew it would stay there for most, if not all of the ride. When he offered for you to pick the playlist, nothing came to mind.

Feeling defeated and helpless in this situation, Mick put on a playlist the two of you had created together and gave your leg a firm squeeze. When you glanced in his direction, Mick leaned forward to crash his mouth against yours.

You hated PDA and you knew that his windows weren’t well tinted, but at the moment you didn’t care who outside the car saw you kissing your boyfriend. If anything, this was a giant fuck you to your brother. His immature comment and lack of brain cells wasn’t going to stop you from being with the man you loved.

You just hoped this would all blow over soon.

“A fucking Instagram story apology?” You screamed at Charles through the phone about a minute after you stepped into your apartment, switching between cursing him out in French and English. Mick picked up on a few words here and there but he kept raising his eyebrows when he had no idea what it was you were saying.

“What else do you want me to do?” Charles yelled back, his voice was muffled and there was a lot of noise in the back. Wherever he was, it meant he wasn’t giving this situation the attention it deserved.

“I want you to not lie on social media and put some fucking effort into getting along with Mick!”

You made the mistake of trying to unpack while on the phone with your brother because every few seconds, whatever you had in your hands would just get crumpled between your fist or you’d throw it out of anger.

Mick stepped towards you, taking your hand in his to unclench your fingers to release the shirt you were currently digging your nails into. He gave you a look that basically said stop trying to multitask, you suck at it.

“Give me one good reason why you don’t approve of me dating him,” You ordered and Charles went silent on the phone. You waited about twenty seconds before you scoffed into the receiver, “Tu ne peux pas." You can’t.

Finally, Charles blurted out, “He’s older than you.”

“By two years.”

“He doesn’t have a career.”

“Maybe he’s not currently driving but that doesn't mean he’s done for good,” you retorted, standing up for your boyfriend.

“He can’t support you.”

“I can support myself.”

You heard Charles sigh loudly, “You shouldn’t be dating a driver, Y/N, okay?”

“Just because you were a shitty boyfriend to your ex-girlfriends doesn’t mean Mick is going to treat me poorly too.”

Mick’s eyes went wide at that comment. It wasn’t like you to bring up his past and you both knew how delicate of a topic his relationships were. No one in the family talked about what happened, Charles kept it to himself. But between you and your other brothers, you sort of put two and two together that whatever happened was his fault.

Mick reached for your hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs. He ran his fingers over the back of your legs, the light touch making you shiver, but he knew you needed this type of comfort right now.

You draped your arm over his shoulder, lazily sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you waited for Charles’ response, but all you could hear was quiet breaths and voices in the background.

“Charles, I don’t know what happened in your relationships,” you started off hesitantly, “but whatever fear you have, whatever you did…Mick isn’t the same guy. He’s not you, he’s-”

“Better,” Charles said under his breath and you actually chuckled. Mick heard it too and smiled.

“I mean, yeah,” you agreed and Mick tried to hide his laughter by reaching for your hand, kissing the back of it. “And I get it, you want to protect me but this isn’t how you go about it. You’ve just been cruel and closed off and you haven’t even tried to see Mick for the guy he is. Do you even know how happy he makes me?”

Charles went silent again. That could have meant two things. Either he truly disassociated himself from your relationship and had absolutely no idea the smile Mick brought to your face, the joy he brought into your life. Or Charles saw everything and he could see how much Mick meant to you, even if he tried to ignore it.

You looked directly at Mick, resting your palm against the side of his cheek, “I love him.”

Mick’s blue eyes quite literally sparkled. He mouthed the words back to you. ‘I love you.’

The next thing you heard was the dial tone.

Mick heard Charles’ hang up and he took the phone from your hands before you could throw it or break it or crush it between your fingers, which he was confident you could do. He tossed it onto the bed behind him and pulled you onto his lap.

“I don’t get it,” you whispered, eyes starting to gloss over. “I don’t want to keep having this conversation with him. I want him to be happy for me, for us.”

“I know,” Mick nodded, the worry lines in his forehead coming back as his eyes darted all over face, thinking of the ways he could try to make things better.

“And I don’t need his approval but-”

“But you want it,” Mick could read your thoughts, he knew you so well. “He’s your brother, it makes sense.”

“I don’t even want to go to the race this weekend if he’s going to be acting like this.”

“You don’t need to,” he backed up that idea without any hesitation. “Why support him when he can’t do the same for you?”

But that felt wrong. You had a huge heart, you loved Charles and you wanted to see him succeed and especially in Monaco of all places. Not being there for this race just seemed so horrible.

And people would definitely speculate if you weren’t there to cheer your own brother on.

“I have to,” you eventually said.

“You have a few days to decide.”

Mick titled his chin upwards to press a kiss to your cheek. Obviously it made you smile and that smile only grew when he continued to pepper quick kisses all over your face. Your hold around his shoulders tightened and you pushed him backwards so he landed face up on the mattress with you still on top of him.

“I love you,” he told you, his gaze dropping from your eyes to land on your lips for just a second before looking up again. “I will always love you, Y/N. Nothing is going to get in the way of that, I promise.”

“Not even stupid brothers?” You asked and Mick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not even stupid brothers.”

You dropped your forehead to rest against his, letting your hair fall around his face. Mick slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt and the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sent a chill down your spine in the most comforting way. Your nose nudged against his and just like every other time before this, when he kissed you, your entire body felt like it was on fire.

Mick had the ability to light a match within you from just a simple touch. You were electrified when you were with him and you couldn’t get enough.

He pushed your shirt further up as your kiss deepened. His tongue traced your lips, just enough to leave you breathless and Mick took that opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You could practically taste the coffee he was drinking in the car and you loved it.

You sat up suddenly, giving yourself a few seconds to pull your shirt off because it was bound to come off anyway. You tossed it behind you and Mick pushed himself up as well, attaching his lips to your throat. Your head rolled back when his teeth grazed over your skin and you knew that if you didn’t stop him, he would leave a mark.

But you just tugged your fingers through his hair, your faint moan encouraging him to keep going. You didn’t care what people would think if your makeup failed to cover it. Let them know how much you love Mick. You wanted people to know that you were his and that wasn’t going to change.

Mick trailed his lips upwards, his kisses were soft in comparison to the merciless sucking on your neck a few seconds prior and the contrast was driving you insane.

He was the sweetest, most caring guy you had ever met. With kind eyes and a heart bigger than anyone deserved, Mick was truly the most lovable person on this planet.

But good god there was another side to him. A side you only ever saw when it was just the two of you alone and you craved it. He had the ability to flip a literal switch and take complete control over you. Mick would have you begging in seconds, he knew exactly how to please you and how to leave you wanting more.

Which is why you were more than irritated when his phone started ringing in his pocket. You could feel the vibration against your leg and you pleaded for him to just let it go to voicemail.

Mick laughed against your skin, pressing a kiss to the spot right below your ear, “You know I’d love to sweetheart but-”

“-but you can’t,” you groaned, finishing the thought for him. Just because he wasn’t a full time driver didn’t mean he got out of F1 obligations. You adjusted yourself on his lap so he could pull his phone out. Charlotte’s name lit up the screen, head of PR for Mercedes.

Mick answered the phone, still keeping his other hand on your waist. You overheard some of the conversation just from being in close proximity but when Charlotte asked if Mick could join a Zoom meeting, you rolled your eyes.

“Say no,” you whispered, wanting to get back to what you were doing.

Mick covered the speaker with his hand, “I can’t say no. Mercedes has to do a bit of damage control before the race this weekend.”

You groaned loudly and you were certain you heard Charlotte laugh from the other end of the call. Mick kissed your cheek before you climbed off of him, reaching for your shirt to put back on.

“Blame your brother,” Mick told you as he grabbed his laptop from his backpack, heading into your office. He shut the door behind him and you just knew you wouldn’t see him again for at least three hours.

You reached for your phone and flopped yourself on the bed. As much as you should have been staying off social media, you couldn’t help but wonder what people were saying about this whole situation.

It was endearing, and slightly humorous, to see that some fans hated Charles’ apology as much as you did. But it was painful knowing that they too saw the distaste your brother had for Mick.

When you opened instagram, you noticed that Charles had deleted his story post. He probably did that after you told him how horrible it was. However, it just meant that there was still a mess he had to clean up.

You didn’t like how the conversation with him ended. He hung up so abruptly. And even though that was not the first time he’d done that, you didn’t want him to get away with it. The two of you needed to talk, you needed to put an end to this bullshit.

So you called him, only for it to go right to voicemail.

You waited a bit and called again, same thing.

Not wanting to get too in your head about it, you reached for the remote to turn the tv on. If Mick was going to be in meetings for the better part of the evening, you could at least catch up on some shows.

As the day went on, you kept trying to get a hold of Charles, but to no avail. Eventually you texted the one person who should have at least had an idea as to where he was.

Defeated, you tossed your phone aside. You got up out of bed and made your way down the hall. The door to your office was still shut but you pushed it open the slightest bit. When the hinges squeaked, Mick turned around in the chair and smiled at you.

There was something so humbling about seeing your Formula 1 driver boyfriend sit at your pastel pink desk with the cheesiest grin on his face.

“Almost done, I promise,” he told you, glancing at his watch. What you assumed would be a three hour meeting had turned into a five hour one, but at this point they were probably discussing everything for the week so Mick could spend more time with you before the race weekend.

“It’s okay, take your time,” you said, blowing him a kiss. Mick reached his hand up in the air, pretending to catch said kiss.

“I’ll order us something to eat, yeah?” he suggested, grabbing his phone. You nodded in agreement to that idea before retreating out of the office.

There wasn’t much to do as you waited for Mick to finish up so you started tidying up. Your apartment wasn’t messy by any means but you had to distract yourself. Otherwise you’d just start thinking about what Charles is up to and why he wasn’t answering your calls and you didn't want to pull Mick away from his work to help you out of whatever self-destructed spiral you would surely fall into.

When there was a knock on the door, you paused. Usually delivery drivers would use the intercom buzzer on the main level to gain entry into your building. You also weren’t sure how the food managed to be prepared and delivered so quickly.

“Mick!” You called out. “Did you give the delivery driver my access code?”

There was no answer, but there was another knock at the door.

Not wanting the food to get cold, you reached for the door handle and pulled it open.

Only, it wasn’t food.

And for the second time in less than twelve hours, your older brother’s unpredictable actions had left you feeling a little confused and terribly surprised as you came face to face with the man whose eyes bore so much resemblance to yours.

part 3 coming soon i guess bc i couldn't conclude this in 2 parts oops

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tag list @spicyclover @leclerc16s @totally-random-person @majx00 @lighttsoutlewis @ellethewitchbitch @grimmducky @lucyhotchner @clintsupremacy @sussyzee @fock-smash @that-aesthetic-chic @alma23f1 @sbgal @h0e-xoxo @ivegotparticulartaste @sachaa-ff @emiiarmenn @konsti081 @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @melagemo0263

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maroonsupremacy · 1 year

Text

r/relationship_advice - Charles Leclerc x Reader

A collection of Reddit posts, comments, tweets, and fic

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis - The reader is in a difficult situation, and decides to make a post on Reddit to get help with her predicament. What she doesn’t expect is for people to realise who she is.

Content Warnings - swearing, sexual references

Author’s Note - this is not just a standard fic! This is a collection of Reddit posts, comments, tweets, and fic. Sort of like a collage of different shit all telling one story! Because of this the perspective is different in each part, like the Reddit posts are in first person, and the fic is in second person as usual!

I wanted to experiment with something different structure wise, you know me, I like to fuck with stuff and do weird shit. If high school musical taught me anything, it’s that we shouldn’t stick to the status quo.

Please do tell me if you like the structure, if you don’t, if there’s anything you don’t think works etc! I’d love to do more shit like this so if you have any ideas of what else I could include in one of these (like text messages, DMs, Snapchat, insta stories, whatever) do let me know!

r/relationship_advice • 5d ago

Posted by throwaway27936

My (25F) boyfriend (27M) thinks I have a thing for one of my coworkers (25M). The worst thing about it is… I do.

I wanna preface this by saying that I’ve been with my boyfriend since I was 18. And I do love him. But last year I managed to bag my dream job and it meant us going long distance.

I wasn’t worried about the whole thing, after all, we’d been together for six years already and lived together for three of them. We had two cats together, and the word on the street was he was thinking of buying a ring to pop the question before I got my job offer.

The job is my dream job, and it’s actually what we had initially bonded over when we were at college together. When I got that email saying the job was mine he was so excited for me, and I was thrilled. It’s what I’d been working towards for so long!

But as things set in for him, and he realised I would be away for weeks and weeks, I could tell something changed. It was like he was faking being happy for me. The proposal never came, I suppose maybe because I was going to be away for days like valentines and both our birthdays, maybe he just couldn’t find the right time? Either that or he didn’t want to be engaged to someone who was hardly around?

He drove me to the airport, and no matter how sad I could see he was feeling, I couldn’t stop my excitement as I jetted off to another country to begin my work! I suppose that didn’t help either, him seeing how pumped I was and not being all tearful and sad to be leaving him. But I couldn’t help it, and I was sad, I just didn’t want to make our parting more upsetting for myself or for him.

The job kept me busy. Like super busy. But I did manage to come home every now and then, to tell him about all the amazing things I’d seen and done, do date nights snuggled up on the couch with our kitties Nemo (4M) and Milo (4M) but something was just… off??

And him being off, not being as affectionate and loving as he used to be, is what drew me to my coworker.

The final nail in the coffin was my trip home during summer last year. My bf and I pretty much argued the entire time, just over little tiny things, until suddenly, he just exploded. He berated me over the fact that I was never home. That he was the one stuck there looking after the cats, living a normal life while I was living my dream and flying around the world with my team.

It hurt, and I’m gonna be honest with you, I said some things I wish I could take back. Mainly along the lines of ‘it’s not my fault you weren’t able to make something of your life like I was.’

I regret saying that. I know that he struggled after college. It was a low blow. But I was angry, because I was living my dream, the dream we had bonded over that night in the sports bar just off campus when we met. He should be happy for me, right?

Well, after I left at the end of summer on a particularly sour note, I was ready to be done with him. I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and hope he’d gotten it all out of his system and that when I returned during a two week break in October, things would be better.

We hardly talked. September meant no FaceTimes, hardly any texts, no likes on my Instagram posts, nothing. Zilch. Nada. I tried, god knows I did. Scrolling through our WhatsApp chat makes me look so fucking desperate but I wasn’t ready to give up.

One day, after another period of being totally ignored, my coworker, who I shall call C, noticed I was upset. Before now I hadn’t spent much time with C as he was far more high profile than me. I worked in the wings but he was the star of the show.

I didn’t mean to trauma dump on him, but all these feelings just kinda came spilling out. I ended up crying on him and getting his shirt all covered in snot. It was gross, I apologised, he said not to worry about it.

The thing about C is, is that he’s beautiful. I know you don’t often see the word beautiful being used to describe a man, but he is. He’s gorgeous. Like don’t get me wrong, my bf is hot too, but C? Damn.

He was so kind to me, he listened, he wiped away my tears, cheered me up, and made me feel better again.

Don’t get me wrong, I would never cheat. I couldn’t. One of my best friends from college had her boyfriend of five years cheat on her and she was heartbroken. I still loved my boyfriend, I couldn’t do that to him. Besides, C himself already had a girlfriend. So anything between me and him was completely off the table.

But that didn’t stop me from catching feelings for C. There’s nothing cheaty about catching feelings, right? Especially when your bf is ghosting you the way mine was.

But C and I became good friends over the time we spent together throughout September after the whole snotty crying situation. He was a good friend, and it was nice to have someone in your corner when all of your normal best friends are halfway across the world.

When I went home in October, I arrived at my bf and I’s flat to find him sat in the lounge, surrounded by packed boxes and suitcases. He told me it was over.

Naturally I cried, I was hoping we’d have a chance to smooth things out, especially over Christmas when I’d have a whole two months to spend at home before I had to be back at work.

My bf showed me a picture on his phone, it must have been from some night out I can hardly remember after a good weekend’s work. And there I was with C. We were just dancing, but his hand was on my waist. Man we must have been so hammered.

My bf assumed I had a thing for him, which I did, but I would never have acted on. But I told him I didn’t, that we were just good friends, which wasn’t a lie. We were good friends, I just happened to fancy the pants off C but only in secret.

He wouldn’t listen to me, told me the whole long distance thing wasn’t working and that I either had to quit my job, or we would have to break up.

I couldn’t quit. I loved my job too much. It was exactly what I had dreamed of since I was a child. I told him that, and he said it was over.

He said he’d look after the cats until I found a new stable home someplace, and that he’d let me store my things in the spare room, but I didn’t live here anymore.

I left for my parents that night, in tears, and texted C. I told him what had happened, and he said I should get out, go visit him at home and keep my mind off of things before we had to travel again.

I knew I shouldn’t have. That it just made C and I’s relationship look even more suspicious. But I was upset, and angry. Besides, I wasn’t the only one at fault. If my bf had just replied to my texts more, and been willing to work harder on the long distance thing, I think we’d still be together now.

But I went to see C. And we had a great week. We hung out, played video games, got drunk, it was great. Of course his girlfriend stopped by every day for a few hours at least, and sometimes I’d be left alone in his apartment while they went for dinner and stuff. And that was when I cried.

I felt guilty for something that was beyond my control. I felt angry because, if my boyfriend had just been more willing to make it work, I wouldn’t have gone crying to C and I wouldn’t have ended up with this big fat crush on him.

By the time it was time to return home, I went and moved all my stuff out of my now ex-bf’s apartment and took the cats to my parents. I spent Christmas with them, and despite how much it hurt being alone surrounded by my family who were all coupled up, I had my work in 2023 to get me through.

But I also had C. We texted, a lot, after the breakup. I think he wanted to make sure I was okay? That I wasn’t feeling down.

But eventually it was my turn to check in on him, as C and his gf broke up. We spent a lot of time on FaceTime that week, being a pair of sad single losers drinking red wine and talking shit. He was my friend, and I cared about him a lot.

Come New Year’s Eve, I was invited to see in 2023 with my closest friends at a party one of them was hosting. And it was there I saw my ex-bf for the first time since I moved out.

I expected he would be there, after all, we had a lot of the same friends. But I was prepared for it. I’d cried my tears out, I’d gotten out all of my frustrations, and so when he asked me out on the balcony for a chat, I said ‘sure, why not?’

Call it a bad idea, call me foolish, but we ended up making out up there. We kissed at midnight that night, and promised to give it all another go. He said he wouldn’t get jealous of me and my job, and I said I’d try to come home more and spend more time with him.

The first week of January, I moved my stuff back into our apartment, brought the cats back from my parents, and we rekindled our relationship. Despite all the pain I went through, I still loved him. And he still loved me.

But then C texted, asked if I wanted to fly over and hang out for a weekend. My bf wasn’t too happy with the idea. He was still convinced I had a thing for C, despite me telling him most certainly that I didn’t. But I did still have a thing for C.

Thing were frosty between me and my bf for a few days, and as I prepared to return to work, he got increasingly more agitated. But eventually, when it came time for me to leave, he cried. I cried and hugged him as we parted at the airport. I promised I would call and text every day, and that I wouldn’t ignore him in favour of work.

I loved my boyfriend, I really did. But then I saw C again. And now I don’t know what to do.

I love both of them, so much, and I don’t know what I want anymore. Is it selfish of me to stay with my bf? Would it be stupid for me to call it quits with him and risk things with C even if he doesn’t feel the same? I’m just stuck in a rut and my emotions are going crazy. Help!

TLDR: my boyfriend thinks I’m in love with my coworker, I say I’m not, but after a shaky period with my bf, I fell for my coworker. Now I don’t know what to do! Help?

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AutoModerator • 2d ago

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Reindeerbuddy27 • 4d ago

I think your boyfriend sounds like a dick. It was his fault for ghosting you! If he hadn’t have reacted the way he did over summer you would have never bonded with your coworker and caught feelings. IMO you’d be better off breaking up with him and either being single or getting with C, though I’d give him some time to get over his own ex-gf before you try anything!

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Throwaway27936 • 4d ago

Yeah, it kinda was his fault I caught feelings in the first place, you’re right. I wouldn’t say he was a dick, he just missed me I guess and his sadness turned into anger the longer I was away and it just all exploded. Even so, we’re back together and on good terms, and I still love him. I don’t think I could break up with him without a valid reason to do so?

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ReindeerBuddy27 • 3d ago

I get that you don’t want to lose him, but if you’re not fully invested in the relationship with him and want to explore the possibility of having something with C, I think breaking up with your bf would be the fairest thing to do.

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Throwaway27936 • 3d ago

Hmm… maybe you’re right. I need some time to think about it. Thanks for the advice! I really appreciate it! ♥︎

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Pedr0Pascal14 • 4d ago

Would you maybe be able to ask your bf about opening your relationship? Allowing you to pursue things with C to see where they lead while also keeping your bf?

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Throwaway27936 • 4d ago

Definitely not. He’s all about monogamy, and I am too. If I suddenly asked about opening the relationship he’d be even more suspicious of me and my reasons for asking.

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Demeter779 • 3d ago

Could you reduce the amount of time spent at work maybe? Like going part time so you’re only away for six months out of the year?

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Throwaway27936 • 3d ago

Sadly it’s not possible. My job is kinda all or nothing. If I asked about reducing my hours they’d laugh in my face and fire me. There’s plenty of people who would die for a chance to fill my role so I wouldn’t be missed.

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Demeter779 • 3d ago

That sucks. I would say tho, without being mean, it seems like your job is your number one priority and not your bf. While there’s nothing wrong with that, I think that’s where the problem lies. Especially if before you took the job he was always your number one! It’s probably been hard for him to adjust! I hate to say it, but I don’t think you two are meant to be and these problems are only gonna get worse this year with you being away. This situation really sucks for you OP, I’m sorry.

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LionVerstappen33 • 2d ago

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Hon3ybadg3r • 2d ago

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MonacoBaby • 2d ago

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r/relationship_advice • 6hr ago

posted by Throwaway27936

UPDATE: My (25F) boyfriend (27M) thinks I have a thing for one of my coworkers (25M). The worst thing about it is… I do.

Okay, ya got me.

Considering my life has already been put under extreme scrutiny from random strangers on the internet to literal news publications, I figured it couldn’t get any worse than it already has and so I’d post an update here.

I wanna start out by saying I am stupid. I made my post thinking I was fully anonymous, the account was a throwaway with no real ties to my irl identity and I tried as hard as I could to conceal the true nature of my work, but you F1 girlies are far too intelligent and I realise that now.

In hindsight I shouldn’t have deleted those comments, because it did just make me look more suspicious. If I’d have left them, maybe even replied to them and said ‘yes I work in F1 but can we please keep it on the dl as I don’t want anyone finding out who I am’ then right now I wouldn’t be sat in my childhood bedroom crying with a cat on my knee typing out this post.

I also wanna say that I hold no grudges with Twitter user LionVerstappen_ I mean, they’re far too clever for their own good, and they terrify me, but I don’t hate them, and all the hate that they’re getting is unjustified and wrong. It was my fault for posting on the internet thinking I’d be safe. That’s on me, not them, so please do leave them alone.

Since that post was made, a lot has changed. Obviously I had already returned to work, I was in the factory at Maranello working on some technical shit I won’t bore you with and getting ready for the livery reveal on the 14th and fine tuning for next season.

I had seen LionVerstappen_ and Hon3ybadg3r’s comments and deleted them as soon as I did. I didn’t fancy answering them, and thought ‘shit, this is getting a little dicey’ and disabled commenting on my post. I thought that would be the end of that, I had some good advice given before that, and I would mull it over before I next saw my boyfriend.

Suddenly, my phone just started fucking blowing up. I had a bunch of random people request to follow me on Instagram, and when I say a bunch, I mean a fuck load. Like 20k follow requests in the space of a few hours. Immediately I was like ‘what the fuck?’ Assuming I’d been hacked or something. I had like 200 followers before that, and I knew all of them in some capacity, and I hadn’t just become some internet celebrity (not on purpose at least) so what was going on?

That’s when I got a message from my friend back home. She’s an F1 fan and is pretty active on F1twt which is how she saw the posts. She sent me a link to the original tweet from LionVerstappen_ as well as to DeuxMoi’s Instagram stories. I was shocked, I really didn’t know how to react.

I couldn’t believe that my silly little Reddit post had actually been figured out, especially after I’d deleted those comments, I thought it was the end. I debated taking down the Reddit post, but really, what was that gonna do? There were already screenshots all over Twitter so it wouldn’t make a difference.

This all happened during my lunch break, and after lunch, I was called into my boss’ office. It seems the Ferrari PR department had also seen the tweets and the speculation, and they wanted to talk to me about it.

I burst into tears. My personal life was all over the internet, my boyfriend had probably seen it all and knew how I felt and that I’d been lying to him about my feelings. I knew it was only a matter of time before he called me and ended things with me again.

Thankfully, the PR team were nice to me. They said they’d handle it, and most importantly, that my job was safe. It was nothing to do with my capabilities as an engineer, after all, so I suppose it made sense. What they did do, however, is give me the week off to sort my life out.

I left the factory sniffling like a baby, packed my shit and got on a plane home. I called my parents to pick me up from the airport, and asked them to take my stuff back to their place but to drop me at the apartment my bf and I shared.

When I entered the flat I had to brace myself. I knew it wasn’t gonna be pretty. My bf was sat on the sofa, surrounded by packed bags and boxes again. Deja vu anyone?

He didn’t yell, or threaten me, or call me names like I thought he would. No, he stood up, and hugged me. And I started crying like a baby. Full on body shaking sobs.

I told him I was sorry, that I loved him, but I understood. He said it was okay.

We sat down together surrounded by the boxes of my things, he made me a coffee, and we talked. It was refreshing to talk to him considering last time he forced me out of the house without a word.

I told him everything, from start to finish. About how neglected and sad I felt after the summer break, how his ghosting was what led me to Charles, how I still really loved him but just didn’t know what I wanted, and how scary it was to have my private life all over the internet like that.

He was sympathetic, but ultimately he said that we just didn’t work together. He wished me luck, I took the cats, got in a taxi, and went home.

Funnily enough, I wasn’t really upset about the whole relationship ending. Mainly because I was just so relieved my ex was handling the whole situation so well. I’ll miss him terribly, he was more than just my boyfriend but he was my best friend too (I am aware of how cliche that sounds).

We had bonded over F1 all those years ago. I was cheering for Sebastian Vettel and he was cheering for Lewis Hamilton while watching a race in a sports bar. We ended up having an argument over who’s driver was better which after a few drinks evolved into us making out in the smoking area. That night I’d told him my dream, to be an engineer, to work for Ferrari. He believed in me, and it’s due to his belief that I managed to get my job. It’s a shame that achieving my dream was the thing that eventually tore us apart.

But anyway, now I’m at home. My parents are out collecting all my things from my ex’s flat right now, and I’ve finally calmed down enough to start typing this out. Mainly because Nemo has decided to curl up in my lap and have a big nap.

Consider my overdue cat tax paid:

When I settled in my room, Charles called me. I nearly didn’t answer it, but I did.

For the sake of his privacy, I’m not going to tell you all of what was said. But I can say that he doesn’t hate me, and if anything, he feels so bad for the situation I ended up in.

I suppose he knows what it’s like to have all that speculation around your personal life 24/7 and can empathise more than most of the people in my life.

I will also say, that we are just friends! That’s all. This isn’t a hallmark movie. He hasn’t hopped on his private jet, flown all the way to my home in bumblefuck nowhere to declare his love for me, and we all live happily ever after.

Real life is a lot more complicated than that. And a lot shittier and a lot more depressing.

I’m going back to Maranello tomorrow morning. I know they gave me the week off, but I’m going to spend some time in the area, maybe even look at getting a proper rental and moving out there full time. I have nothing really to tie me to my home anymore, not really (and yes I will bring the cats with me and pay a cat sitter!)

So yeah, this is my update. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m fine now, I think! Moving onwards and upwards. One day this will be a funny story I’ll look back on. It isn’t funny now, but it will be.

I do ask, however, that everyone reading this post thinks before they post. I’m a real person, and thanks to all this drama my life is fucked up and I’m now Googling how to emigrate to Italy.

Before you press that button, just consider how it will affect that person, and if it’s really worth it. Sometimes it is, I’ll grant you. But we’re all real people. Those of us in the factories, the TPs, the drivers, everyone. And we have a right to respect and privacy just as any ordinary person does. Think before you post.

I’m signing off now. It’s been a wild ride. Comments will be off, no doubt you’ll be making comments and dissecting my every word on Twitter anyways but at least I don’t have to see em.

I likely won’t update this again.

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March 5th 2023

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite acclimate yourself to the dry heat of Bahrain. Your hair clung to your neck with sweat, and your team polo was already sodden and damp.

You weren’t quite sure if it was just the heat, or the nerves getting to you as the cars begun their formation lap. You fidgeted with the pen in your hand, your eyes firmly transfixed on the screen in front of you as you catch a glimpse of red zooming down the straight.

Lucky for you, things had died down. As the season began, people had the racing to focus on, and your silly little Reddit post had been almost forgotten. You were able to blend into the background, just as you had done that previous year. You were just another engineer hidden amongst a sea of red shirts, and it was nice.

You knew, however, that this peace would be short lived. It was only a matter of time before you were all over social media again, not as the mystery Reddit user anymore, but as Charles Leclerc’s new girlfriend.

You didn’t lie in your post, the two of you hadn’t gotten together on that fateful day. You were just friends. That was until February 14th.

The day of the car reveal, which also happened to coincide with Valentine’s Day. You didn’t mind, of course, after all, you had no plans. You were quite happy to have something else going on to distract you from your tragic love life.

Charles, however, had made plans. After the reveal you went back to his hotel room, where he had organised a fancy dinner with candles and roses. He asked you out then and there, away from the prying eyes of fans or paparazzi.

To you, it was the most romantic gesture anyone could ever make. It was clear he had thought of you, keeping the moment as private as possible to protect you.

He, of course, knew how you felt about him. He didn’t have to worry, he knew you’d say yes. And you did.

You spent the evening drinking wine, chatting, just as you had always done. But one thing was different - after dessert he kissed you.

The kiss was sweet, and it wasn’t just because of the tiramisu he had eaten.

He didn’t want to rush you, he knew that you were still healing from your trauma. But you weren’t so coy.

February 14th marked the first time you had kissed Charles Leclerc, but it also marked the first time the two of you made love.

Since that day, the two of you had kept your relationship a secret. You cooked for one another, or ordered takeout, watched movies, cuddled with the cats, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

It was exactly what you had wanted. A nice, private relationship with the man you had fallen so deeply in love with.

But there was a small niggling feeling in the back of your mind that it was all about to change. If he won this race, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. You wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to throw yourself into his arms, to kiss him all over, to tell him just how proud you are.

A race winner always deserves a kiss, right?

You chew on your nail as the final cars pull into position, ready for lights out.

Charles had taken pole position that previous day, but you had managed to save your celebrations for later, sneaking over to his hotel room when no one was around and promptly sneaking out early this morning to avoid suspicion.

Lights out - Charles’ reactions are lightning. He manages to keep away from the rest of the grid, allowing the cars behind him to battle for P2.

The Ferrari garage is hopeful, but they know better than to cheer before the race is won. Too many bittersweet moments from the previous season haunted each and every one of them.

All was well, Charles was set for the first win of the season, until a collision at the back of the pack meant that the safety car reared its ugly head.

Max was getting closer and closer to the back of Charles’ car. They weaved behind the safety car, getting ready, preparing for the moment that it would leave the track.

As the car enters the pit lane, the power was in Charles’ hands. He needed to make a good move, surprise Max, get him on the back foot and out of sight.

There were only two laps left. Two laps to victory. Max just had to stay back, and Charles had to race like he’d never raced before.

You chew on your nails anxiously as Charles takes each and every corner, hitting the apex with precision. All that time in the simulator was definitely paying off.

They cross the line for the final lap, Charles was a car’s length ahead, but Max too was pushing hard. He wanted that first win just as much as Charles did. But you told yourself mentally that he wasn’t going to get it. This was Charles’ race, and he was going to stand on that top step of the podium.

The seconds felt like hours. You make eye contact with Vasseur across the garage and he gives you a small smile. A reassuring one, and you smile back. It probably looked more like a grimace but it was the best you could muster.

The final corner passes with ease, and it looks like Charles has hung onto his win. Max is practically driving alongside him as they cross the finish line. No one cheers.

It’s a waiting game, waiting for the photo to see who had crossed the line first.

You bury your head in your hands, unable to think, talk, move or see until the entire garage erupts into cheers.

He had done it! Charles had won the race!

Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you finally look up. You were sobbing, you couldn’t help it. He’d won.

You give every mechanic you see a pat on the back as you walk over to Vasseur. He was smiling brightly at you. He had so much faith in Charles, he loved him like a son.

He embraces you tightly as you cry onto his shoulder, and he whispers ever so quietly “go see him. See your love.”

You didn’t even care to ask how he was able to see right through the two of you. You just pulled away and nodded as you run out of the garage towards parc ferme alongside a sea of red suits and shirts.

You push your way to the front, definitely sure that your tear stained face would be onscreen for the world to see, but you didn’t care. The world had seen worse of you, after all.

When Charles takes off his helmet, your heart skips a beat. He was beautiful, every day he was beautiful. Even when he was still sweaty and breathing heavy from the adrenaline of the race, his face marked with balaclava lines.

He makes a beeline for you, pulling you in for a hug the way friends would hug one another.

“Kiss me.” You say.

“Are you sure, mon amour?” He whispers, and you nod.

Charles captures your lips in a kiss reminiscent of your very first just a few days ago. The cameras were definitely on you, but you didn’t care.

No doubt social media would be going crazy over the whole thing, but it was nothing new to you. At least this time you weren’t just in love with your coworker, but he was in love with you too.

Whatever the internet may have to throw at you, this time, you didn’t have to handle it alone.

—

~ THE END ~

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