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shaarlslec · 1 year

Text

me and the devil

words: 3564

introduction/part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

warnings/notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to enemies to lovers?, mentions of alcohol, language;

inspired by: Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil, The Neighborhood - Afraid, The Academic - Why Can’t We Be Friends?, lovelytheband - i like the way, The Wombats - Turn , Wallows - Pleaser

masterlist

Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.

You avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Glances were exchanged. Time-consuming and penetrating ones. Charles’ eyes on you when he engaged in chit-chat at the bar while you were dancing and having fun with somebody else within the team or not, and yours on Charles when he will get approached by any of his fans (mostly girls, mostly pretty).

It has not always been exactly like this in between the two of you, except maybe for the unexpressed jealousy only through eyes but never through words. And yet, you two avoiding talking back in the days when you were not teammates nor on each other’s throats was out of the question.

As mentioned, you followed him everywhere and he made time (all the time) to watch over you before your F2 races and to congratulate you after any of your wins.

“You have to be smart.” Charles intoned as you were walking side-by-side on an empty Emilia Romagna circuit at the dusk of sun two days before what was the time and place of your first F2 driver championship catch, “You have the same car as anyone else, therefore you have to be smart about the way you use your tires here, especially when taking turns.” He added, vrooming through the apex as if he was a racing car and you were a mere spectator.

You laughed, back then what Leclerc managed to do to you was only laughter and not hard feelings. He caught your laugh and then warned you with a finger to cut the giggles and to pay attention to him and only him as he was explaining to you the best kind of a set-up you could use for the race.

You closed your mouth shut mimicking a closed zip, being the one to cause the laughter to Charles as he watched you tossing your imaginary key far away from the place you have now stopped.

“Understood?” He then inquired, watching you watch him back with whopping googly eyes and hope flickering in the irises of your eyes partly thinking about the win, mostly thinking about him and how attractive having him advising you was.

If you were to be in school and Charles Leclerc were to be your teacher – you would have been most definitely a teacher’s pet. The thought of that scenario made your blood boil, and the way you looked while picturing that made Charles’ spine shiver in pleasure while your body heated underneath his look.

“If you want to make a pass here, you have to be careful to—” He hesitated, heavily breathing in the process.

“What?” You stopped, watching Leclerc’s words being cut short as well as his steps slowing.

You slowed yours too, wondering what was going in the back of your mentor’s mind with a slight hope that your thoughts were the same. They indeed were, and oh how much anticipation was there for them the become real and not just fantasies hidden in the corners of your minds and extremities of your fingers.

“Nothing.” Charles anxiously gulped, his eyes being fixed anywhere else on the track but not on yours that were examining him attentively, “You just —“ He then stopped again, arms close to his chest almost as if he was frightened of the thought that you might see it lifting up in a sorrowful sigh, “You are looking at me like that again.” He explained, arms falling around him helplessly, fingers snapping his knuckles in nervousness.

You let out a giggle, pretending not to know what he was speaking about. When in all trueness, you knew even since then that looks played a major role into your relationship no matter the status of it.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, proceeding in walking away from him so that he will be the one to follow now — which he refused.

With a hold of your wrist, Charles’ fingers wrapped against your skin. Your eyes widened, there have been little to no chances of him daring to touch you. You looked down for a short while, and then up again meeting his gaze.

“I have a girlfriend, Y/N.” He then suddenly spoke, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

Charles had Charlotte at that time, and you knew for the better not to ask details about their relationships. You saw them in the paddock often, and each time you would say “hello” to them while passing by the two holding hands for the photographers to capture, you would have wished for nothing but the Earth to swallow you whole.

Retracting your wrist from Charles, you adjusted your voice with a short grunt, “I am aware of that.” You muttered before a short smile, “You have to question yourself why you had to reminder me that just now.” You added, stepping away from him while your chest was aching still by that mere touch of barely hands, “I was just listening to what you were saying and I—”

“Looked at me like you never do at any other driver, Y/N.” Charles dared to say with a shake of tone, the shakiness progressively getting softer as he spoke your name, “We need to keep this professional.” He continued, enforcing the truth for himself rather than for you just as mentioning his girlfriend before.

With a smirk crossing your lips, you teased even further as you replied, “You pay attention on how I look like at any other driver?” You inquired with a sly smile hid within the tone of your voice, “My plan is not to steal you from Charlotte, Charles.” You assured him, knowing that scooping through the man’s relationship was the last thing on your to-do list when it came to Charles, “My plan is to steal your knowledge, and one day to beat you at your own game on the track.” You proudly declared, managing to shake the uneasiness on Charles’ face for it to be replaced with the humbled proudness you were used back then.

“Oh,” He mouthed, “I would like to see you try.” Charles mocked in a sarcastic tone, “Just don’t be disappointed if that never happens, tough.” He then cockily continued, clapping both his hands together before you went back to the circuit’s tour and racing advice – both pretending that the talk outside the two never took place.

Fools, fools, fools – both of you. You, for teasing him that much during your mentorship era and him for accepting and playing along, toying not only with your emotions but his too. Two days ahead of your little evening escapade on the track, you won your first major championship and Charles’ arms were fast to grab you into a warm hug once you were on the way of getting back to your garage with the trophy tightly squeezed in between your hands.

“That was amazing, Y/N!” Charles shouted within your ears as your bodies entangled for a short yet intense while, “Taking the turns exactly how I told you they are supposed to be taken, amazing!”

You laughed as you two departed, “Taking all the credits, I see.” You joked with a huge smile spread on your face, “I think I did a great job at executing them.” You proudly spoke for a minute before your smile faded as you switched glare from Leclerc to Charlotte who was standing behind him.

Greeting her shortly with a shy “hello”, your hands fully departed from Charles’ forearms as you picked the trophy back from the ground where you first tossed it for the man to have a full access on you.

“Good luck on your race too.” You spoke, the enthusiasm in your voice slowly fading as well as Charlotte’s hand grabbed back Charles, both on their way to the Ferrari garage for Charles to get ready for what was coming that afternoon.

“Ah yes, yes, yes, thank you.” Charles still frenetic spoke looking at Charlotte before taking another one good look at you and your rosy cheeks, “Send me the details to your party for tonight! You must celebrate!” He added, patting your shoulder in passing as they were hurrying on their way.

You nodded yet said nothing. Of course, there was going to be a party, but would you risk it for him to show with Charlotte as he always had done in the past and ruin your winning mood just because she had something you so foolishly desired at the age of eighteen? No, the answer was no.

You had not texted Charles that evening, although every bone within your body wanted for your mentor to attend the celebrations. Selfish mood driven by an even selfish heart, one that Charles was very much aware of and yet one that he wanted to understand without having to lose in the process. And yet, as young as reckless as you both were – mistakes were made in the form of him showing up at your hotel’s door at midnight without Charlotte or anyone else knowing.

A knock into your door as you were ready to go to sleep startled you. Your scared steps carried your body at the door to slowly open it. Yes, you would have lied if you were not to admit that you wanted for the person behind it to be Charles.

Then, seeing him standing upright with a bottle of champagne in one hands and flowers in the other – your heart sunk even deeper, and you knew that him being this close to you and at that hour will not do go to neither of you.

“I waited.” Charles begun with the same type of shakiness into his tone as the one back at the track, “I know from Carlos that you had your party.” He added, eyes all over you as you almost hid behind the door, “Did I do something wrong?” Charles then pleaded, and you had to restrain all your urges to not invite him into the room.

You declined with a nod, “No, it is just that I –” You gulped, “It was just a small party with people from the Prema Racing team, and some of my non-racing friends.” You almost whispered with a smile, “No big F1 drivers were invited, no huge fuss nor cameras, no drinks nor dances, no fun actually – really.”

You lied stumbling at your own words, avoiding Charles’ look as much as humanely imaginable until your eyes laid on the man’s slowly trembling fingers. You made that; you made him shiver even when your intentions were not to do so.

Charles guzzled as well, “I understand then, yeah – sounds like a boring one.” He then laughed, handing you what was waiting into his hands, “I came here actually wanting to celebrate with you alone, but I think that –”

You nodded even before he stopped his words, taking the bottle and the flowers into your own hands, “I think it is a good idea too.” You added, for you to leave. There was no need for one of you to utter the words, as both of you were tragically thinking the same. “Thank you for stopping by, and thanks for the flowers.” You spoke, sniffing the scent of what were your only and favorite type of flowers that you perhaps mentioned once or twice during some of your interviews but never to him, never to any boy really. And yet, Charles knew – he had documented this moment, the very first time when he bought you flowers.

“Goodnight then.” Charles shyly verbalized, grabbing the back of his neck for you to not notice any further the trembles of his fingers, “You did a great job today, Y/N.” He then added with a soft short smile, “You will do just great in F1.” Charles continued, watching you giving him one last shy smile and a glimpse of your rosy cheeks in the dim lights of the hallway before closing your door once he turned to leave and go back into his hotel room, one in which Charlotte was most definitely soundingly sleeping.

You glued your back to the door once he left, the words “keep it professional” resounded in the back of your mind. With an aching chest, you placed the flowers in one of the random vases that the hotel room had to offer but not before noticing a hand-written note enveloped on the top of the bouquet.

You have one of the best talents I have ever witnessed in this sport and not only, do not waste it – and I cannot wait for us to fight together. I would like to see you try, younger and much ruthless me.

Charles was right back then with quite a few words; you were one of the most talented drivers he had ever seen – one of the most talented drivers everybody ever seen. And yes, you were the younger and much ruthless version of him. But now, oh – Charles Leclerc was not that keen on fighting with you together on the track exactly for those three reasons alone, and for the fact that you were on to get him and slow his process of being the best that there ever was on racing circuits.

The now two-times world champion was watching you leave your own party earlier than everyone else. You wanted some time for yourself the night after your scandalous win against him, therefore you took a car straight to the hotel to ease a little. You were not eighteen anymore, and you found yourself a little too much of an alcohol enthusiast now (although you were bad at holding your liquor).

With your head ponding too much after many of Norris’ gross shots, you quickly get rid of your cloths and showered before limping to the bed. You need to get a good night sleep before tomorrow arrived when you had to take an early flight back home – three weeks without Formula 1 were ahead, and you would have never thought that you wanted a break from it more than you did now during your most successful season so far. You were almost dreaming about time spend with your non-racing friends far away from all the craziness, when a knock into your door blasted you awake.

“What are you doing here?” You awed spoke once you wide opened it, expecting for the knock to come from one of the hotel’s employees or your manager who drove you back to the hotel.

And yet, there someone else stood – the one you opened your door two more than six years ago with nervousness, thrill, and anticipation, “Leclerc, it is past midnight for God’s sake. What are you doing here?” You intoned with the annoyance of repeating the same question after receiving no answers at first try while inviting him in without giving it a second thought as you made him room to pass by you.

Charles was without a girlfriend now, and the idea of you two being in the same room late at night seemed more bearable now knowing that you despised each other rather than being attracted to the other.

Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.

“I saw you leaving.” Charles added, giving you a quick glance from head to toes, “Cute PJs.” Your teammate mockingly spoke, leaning against the wall in front of you as you closed the door, “I told you we need to talk – I am not leaving until we talk.” He demanded as you looked down at your pink and white PJs sprinkled with smiley yet creepy faces that you drunkenly ordered online one time.

“I very much like my PJs, thank you.” You spoke, eyes up now watching Charles crossing his arms at his chest.

Fuck, the training in the past years did its job. You could not help yourself but notice his biceps through the white plain loose t-shirt and the way his clothes fitted on what was now a very sculpted body. And yet, you sighed to act uninterested and even more annoyed that you were by the fact that Charles showed up without letting you know ahead, “I told you that we have nothing to talk about.” You added, glare catching his now.

You were not the only one who pretended within the room, of course not. Charles has been looking at you for the entire night, and he has seen how your body moved close to guys that were not him – and he reminded himself of all the moments he shallowed his urges whole to touch you, to caress the back of your hand with his, to glue his body on top or under yours. Yes, the view he had upon you was very much different than the one he had when you were eighteen or in the years that followed since then and yet, the shivers were the same.

That was the main reason why Charles held his hands so closely gripped to his chest even now, for you to not notice his nervousness around you anymore and for him to tame the pleadings inside of his mind as much as he could. Your dominance over Charles was turning him on more than he had ever guessed, and no one made him feel like this before – that was the trick.

“You need to slow down.” Charles intoned, the words were again spoken more for him to hear rather than for you to listen – and it was very much not about racing anymore. Leclerc’s mind was all over the place, and it has been like that since he decided to knock at your door with no plan whatsoever but just to warn you about your next steps, “This will get quite ugly in the future if you keep acting like this.” He added, eyes never away from yours.

You nervously chuckled, mimicking’s Charles’ body pose now. Younger and much reckless me, “I’ve slowed down for you in the past two years, mate.” You intoned with a very much sarcastic tone, “Are you that scared?”

“Are you that fearless?” Charles added, two steps now made towards you with both arms clasped at his back, “You went through a lot to get your seat next to me – are you planning on losing that?” Leclerc threated with a cunning smile; head titled to the right in trying to intimidate you as inches of the hallway divided in between your bodies.

“You taught me that.” You argued, the slug into your threat toughening as you parted your back from the wall and faced Charles closer, “How to be fearless,” You counted slowly, “How to fight for my seat.” You added, your fingers going up Charles’ cheek just to feel the burning inside his untouched skin, being the one between the two of you to first dare touching the other risking for the walls of your caged unspoken tormenting urges to crack, “Are you really threating me now?” You wondered, watching’s Charles’ eyelids sliding shut as you placed your whole palm on his cheek and part of his neck.

Charles took you in – you and your scent, you and your touch and all that he had been craving even more fervently now than six years ago since the first knock at your door.

And yet, winning seemed to be more important.

“If needed, I will.” Leclerc spoke with his eyes still closed to let himself enjoy the moment of one of your hands on him – although he would have enjoyed for both on him and every single part of his body, “Just a warning for now Y/N, do not stand in my way.” Charles added, stepping back and thus privatizing you of touching his skin no longer.

“What happened to you, Charles?” You breathed slowly as you watched him stating back at you now with one hand on the lock of the door, “You used to be so sweet.” You spoke, eyes on the handle.

“Sweet does not get you championships, darling.”

“So, you do care.” You highlighted, how the others call me, “Sweet might not get you championship, but neither being a dick.” You harshly spoke, placing your hand above him on the handle to stop him from clicking it down, “Look, I get it –” You paused to tame whatever was going inside that aching chest of yours, “You changed, but so did I. You want to win, but so do I.” You enunciated while your fingers gripped his, “Let’s see who wins – fair and square. No games, no threats.”

Charles chuckled, “Does not sound like us.” He spoke, hand hardly pressing the handle down for him to leave, not bearing anymore for you to touch him like that, “What’s the fun in fairness when it comes to us?” Leclerc then added, retracting his hand from underneath yours now that the door has opened, “Goodnight then, see you after the break.” Your teammate spoke, and you have never heard him speaking in such a grave alerting tone before – see you after the break was not a greeting, you had to take it as what Charles was intended for that to be: a warning.

878 notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 11 days

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Newsflash

Charles Leclerc x reporter!Reader

Summary: after two years as a paddock correspondent, you’re convinced that Charles Leclerc hates your guts for no apparent reason … but maybe everything is not what it seems

“Wake up, Y/N. It’s race day!”

Your colleague, Natalie, bursts into your hotel room without knocking, as usual. You groan and pull the covers over your head, not ready to face the chaos that is sure to ensue in the paddock.

“Come on, sleepyhead! We have to be at the track by seven this morning for pre-race meetings,” Natalie says, yanking the duvet off you.

“Alright, alright, I’m up!” You grumble, slowly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it anyway?”

“5:30. Which reminds me, I need coffee,” Natalie says, already headed for the door. “Meet me in the lobby in 20!”

You spend the next 19 minutes hastily getting ready — putting on minimal makeup, throwing on your favorite jumpsuit, and frantically gathering up notes and gear for the day. You take one last glance in the mirror, trying to smooth down your bedhead, before resigning to just throw a cap on over the mess.

Hustling down to the lobby, there’s a rush of personnel all around — mechanics, engineers, PR reps, and media darting about with coffees and laptops and headsets already in place. You spot Natalie nursing a large black coffee and beeline over.

“Ready to do this?” She asks with a grin.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply with a shrug. The truth is, the nerves are already bubbling up in your stomach. You love your job as an F1 reporter for Sky Sports, but the pressure and scrutiny is immense.

The two of you pile into a car with the rest of the broadcast crew and head to the track. On the ride, you glance over your meticulous notes on the teams and drivers one more time, paying special attention to Ferrari.

Ever since you started covering F1 two years ago, one driver has basically refused to give you the time of day — Charles Leclerc.

For some reason, whenever you are around, he bolts in the opposite direction. When you have attempted interviews, he literally turns and speedwalks away without a word. Other drivers will chat with you, joke around, and give thoughtful answers to questions.

But Charles? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

You can’t figure out why he hates you so much. You’ve scoured your past comments and coverage looking for anything that could have offended him, but come up empty.

Is it something personal against you? Were you mean to him in a past life or something? It hurts, to be honest. You try to stay professional, but his obvious disdain for you still stings.

Sighing, you put your notes away as the car pulls into the paddock. It’s going to be a long day.

After hair, makeup, mic checks, and a final meeting, it’s nearly time for the broadcast to go live as cars start lining up on the grid. Nerves buzzing, you watch Charles warm up with his performance coach across the pit lane, headphones in and clearly in the zone. As always, he walks right past you without a flicker of acknowledgment.

Your heart twinges, but you swiftly push the hurt aside. It’s showtime.

The next few hours are a blur of rushed interviews, sound bites, stats flashing across screens, and organized chaos. After the race finally ends, there are more interviews, podium ceremonies, and press conferences to wade through before you can take a breath.

“Man, that was brutal!” Natalie huffs as the two of you finally plop down in chairs in the media room later that afternoon. She cracks open a Red Bull and takes a long drink. “You hanging in there?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply half-heartedly. The truth is, you’re drained — physically and mentally. And of course, the interaction with Charles, or lack thereof, is weighing heavy.

“Why do you let that pompous twerp get under your skin so much?” Natalie says with a frown, seeming to read your mind. “He’s a rude, stuck up jerk who isn’t worth the energy. Forget about him.”

You shake your head with a sigh. “You’re right, you’re right. I just … I don’t know, I never did anything to the guy, and it still stings.”

Just then, the door to the media room swings open, and Charles himself strides in. You inadvertently tense up as he approaches the couch, looking calm and confident in his usual Ferrari polo, and folds himself down between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, who rounded out the rest of the podium.

Here we go again, you think with an internal eye roll. Just gotta get this over with.

“Hello,” Charles says with an easy grin as he settles into his seat, “What have you got for us today?” Various reporters immediately start firing off questions, undoubtedly looking to get a headline from the race winner.

You gather your courage, take a breath, and call out “Charles, Y/N with Sky Sports here. Can you walk me through your thought process behind that daring pass on Lando in Turn 12?”

To your shock, the second Charles hears your voice, his whole demeanor shifts. He seems to freeze, shoulders hunching slightly, grin dropping from his face as his cheeks instantly flush deep red. He looks panicked almost, eyes darting around the room, before landing briefly on you.

“Uhh … b-bathroom. Need to go. Bye.”

And with that, he leaps up from the couch and practically sprints out of the room.

A stunned silence falls over the space as everyone stares, stunned, at the empty space he left. You feel your stomach drop through the floor, tears of embarrassment and humiliation prickling at your eyes.

What did you do wrong? Now he’s made a total spectacle, running away from you in front of your peers. Mortified, you shakily stand up, chair clanging backwards, and rush from the room as well. Needing air, you bolt outside until you find a secluded spot out back of the paddock, leaning against a wall as the tears flow freely.

“Hey, hey … what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The soft, concerned male voice startles you, and you gasp looking up. There stands Charles, looking alarmed and guilty.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that. Please don’t cry!” He moves closer, though still keeps his distance.

You blink rapidly, beyond confused. “What … what are you doing out here? I’m clearly the last person you want to be around.”

He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is really hard for me to admit but … I like you. As in, I have the biggest crush on you. That’s why I get so flustered and basically black out anytime you talk to me. It’s pathetic, I know.”

Your jaw actually drops open in disbelief. “You … what? You like me? Is this a joke?”

“No! No, I swear, it’s the truth,” he says, face turning red again. “I know I come across like a total jerk, I just freeze up around you because honestly? You’re just so stunning and brilliant, and I get unbelievably shy and nervous. The words won’t come out. It’s like an out of body experience! I chicken out and run away like an idiot every time.”

You stare at him, trying to process this. All this time, all the hurt and embarrassment … it was just because he developed a crush?

“I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you. I know it must seem like I despise you. The truth is, you make me feel like a stuttering teenager with my first crush again,” Charles continues, looking at you beseechingly. “I understand if you think I’m a total tool, and I have a lot of work to do to make this up to you. But I swear, I really do like you, Y/N.”

At this, his face splits into a sheepish grin, eyes twinkling with mirth. You feel a laugh bubble up in your chest as relief washes over you.

He doesn’t hate you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite! You appraise him, really looking at him for the first time. From his twinkling green eyes to his adorable dimples to the lock of chestnut hair falling across his forehead, he’s unbelievably charming.

You shake your head, smile growing. “So this whole time, you’ve just been acting like an awkward schoolboy instead of giving me any indication of your true feelings?”

Charles laughs self-consciously. “Embarrassing, I know. Look, I promise I’ll do better-”

“Yeah, you’ve got a lot to make up for,” you say, crossing your arms and giving Charles a playful but pointed look. “All the grief and heartache you’ve put me through the last two years? This calls for serious groveling, mister.”

Charles immediately drops to one knee dramatically. “Y/N Y/L/N, light of my life, apple of my eye. I am but a humble driver, unworthy of your affection. But if you would do me the extraordinary honor of allowing me to court you properly, I vow to spend every day showing you how enchanted I am by your wit, your beauty, and your strength.”

You can’t help but giggle at his over-the-top chivalrous display. “Oh get up, you goofball!” You grab his hand and pull him back to his feet. “I’m just teasing. Well, partially teasing. I do expect you to apologize to me properly. Take me to dinner or something.”

Charles visibly brightens. “Dinner? Really? Yes, absolutely! In fact, let me take you right now. We’ll go to that little trattoria down the road. You deserve to be wined and dined for putting up with me.”

You consider this for a moment, taking in his eager, handsome face. The truth is, despite his past behavior, you find yourself captivated by Charles now that you understand what was really going on. His confidence, talent, and intensity are wildly attractive. And the way he’s looking at you now, with softness and admiration in his eyes .... it sends tingles down your spine.

“Alright, lead the way, hot shot,” you say with a wink.

Charles’ grin stretches even wider, if possible. “After you,” he gestures forward with a flourish, then falls into step beside you as you head towards the exit.

“I really am sorry for being such an idiot around you,” Charles says quietly after a moment of walking in comfortable silence. “The way I’ve acted was totally unacceptable. You deserve so much better.”

You glance over at his earnest expression and feel a little pang in your chest. “It’s okay, really. I get it now. Just think how close we could have been this whole time though if you’d just … I don’t know, talked to me like a normal human being!”

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Oof, so true. Honestly, I’m impressed you didn’t write me off ages ago as a complete lost cause. Clearly you’re far more patient and forgiving than I deserve.”

“Yes, I really am,” you agree teasingly, giving his arm a playful shove. You both laugh as you reach the paddock exit and emerge out onto the bustling street, taking in the energy of the crowd.

You jokingly elbow Charles’ side. “Still though, as dashingly handsome as you may be, don’t think you’re completely off the hook! I expect to be wooed and romanced properly going forward. No more running off scared like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“It’s a deal,” Charles says easily, looking thrilled. “Romance and wooing, coming right up.”

Reaching the charming little restaurant, Charles opens the door for you with a sweeping bow. You grin and step inside. Somehow, you have the feeling this is going to be the start of a wonderful evening.

No more misunderstandings. Just the two of you, getting to know each other properly over a delicious meal with the slight chill of the evening settling in around you.

And you can’t wait.

***

The next few race weekends are a whirlwind as Charles seems to do a complete 180 in his behavior towards you.

Gone is the shy, nervous wreck who could barely look you in the eye. Instead, he goes full-steam in the opposite direction, seeking you out constantly and showering you with attention.

It starts the following week after Friday practice. You’re standing in the paddock scribbling notes when you sense someone approaching. Looking up, you see Charles striding over, helmet in hand, usual calm confidence exuding from him.

“Ah, Y/N, just the reporter I was looking for,” he says with a warm grin, sidling up beside you. “Walk with me?”

Flustered by his forwardness but flattered, you quickly nod. “Uh, sure!”

Charles immediately links his arm casually through yours and starts leading you away down the paddock, journalists and crew members glancing over with raised eyebrows. You catch Natalie’s eye and she mouths “WTF?” at you with a stunned look. You just give a tiny shrug, feeling your face heat up.

“So tell me, what did you think of my lap times today?” Charles asks once you’re a few paces away from the crowd.

You blink, surprised he’s looking for actual feedback. You decide to give an honest assessment. “Well, I think you were sliding the rear end quite a bit too much through Sector 2 and losing time. The car didn’t look fully settled-”

“Brilliant analysis as always, Y/N. I knew I could count on you to give it to me straight,” Charles interrupts with a respectful nod. You feel yourself preen slightly at his praise. “Some changes to differential settings should sort that out, I think.”

He then launches into a surprisingly technical explanation of his plans to adjust the setup. You find yourself nodding along, captivated, as he outlines the various weight transfer issues and how he aims to mitigate them.

He’s speaking to you like a true engineer, not just a reporter. You realize with a jolt that he’s never gone into this level of detail with you before in any interviews.

“Sorry, I’m rambling a bit here, aren’t I?” Charles says sheepishly when he pauses. “I don’t want to bore you with too much technical detail. But you just have such a good eye and ask such insightful questions, I find myself wanting to really dive into this side of racing with you.”

He gives your arm a soft squeeze. “Anyway, let me know if you have any other observations or advice. I trust your analysis completely.”

Before you can properly respond, the two of you round a corner only to nearly walk directly into Sergio Perez, who’s heading the opposite direction. He does a comical double take at seeing the two of you arm-in-arm together.

“Ah, hello Checo!” Charles says breezily, not releasing you or missing a beat. Sergio looks hilariously confused.

“Uh … hello?” is all he manages before Charles is steering you onwards.

“See you around, mate,” he tosses over his shoulder with a wink.

You glance back to see Sergio frozen in place, staring after you both looking utterly bewildered.

The weekend continues in this vein, with Charles constantly pulling you aside to chat at length about setups, strategies, even asking your opinion on development directions for next year’s car.

He treats you with the utmost seriousness and respect, like you’re one of his most trusted advisors. It’s shocking and flattering after the cold-shoulder treatment for so long.

Whenever the broadcast crew has a break, Charles inevitably finds you and whisks you off to look at telemetry data together (which sends a poor PR officer chasing after the two of you with an NDA after the first time Charles decides to pull you into the garage) or watch video, going into painstaking detail to get your thoughts.

By Sunday, it’s become a bit of a running joke among the team, with people exchanging amused glances whenever Charles appears to disappear with you once again.

“There goes Loverboy Sharl, dragging poor Y/N off yet again to pore over spreadsheets and onboard footage,” Natalie jokes with an eye roll during a break, making the crew laugh. “How does that man ever find time to, you know, actually race?”

You shoot her a heatless glare, though you have to admit — as sweet as it is having Charles’ undivided attention, as a reporter the over-accessibility is becoming a touch much.

When the race concludes later that afternoon, Charles immediately finds you amid the chaos of the media scrum.

“Y/N!” He beams down at you, still sweaty and in his racing suit with the top half unzipped. “Come take a look at the race data with me? I want to walk through my lap times and tire deg, see if we can spot any areas to improve ...”

“Actually, I’m sort of totally swamped right now,” you gesture at the sea of people around you. “But maybe later?”

His face falls slightly. “Oh. Well I suppose I did already monopolize a lot of your time this weekend. No rest for the media?”

He gives you a lopsided smile but there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. You feel a little stab of guilt.

“Tell you what though,” he continues, brightening again. “Come find me later before we fly out. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” You ask with a raised brow. “What does that mean?”

“Ah ah ah, no hints!” Charles laughs, wagging a finger. “Just trust me. Don’t leave without seeing me first, okay?”

With that, he leans in and unexpectedly gives you a swift peck on the cheek. You freeze, eyes going wide, feeling your face flame. Pulling back, Charles winks cheekily at you before turning and sauntering off.

Dazed, you lift a hand to touch the spot he kissed, feeling the heat radiating from your cheek. Did he really just … right out in the open like that … with the cameras recording live?

Glancing around, you see Natalie and a few other crew members staring with mouths agape. Toto Wolff is even giving you an amused look as he walks past, one eyebrow arched knowingly. Utterly mortified, you duck your head down and hurry off to find a quiet corner to collect yourself.

The next race sees the flirting and PDA ramp up even higher. Charles can’t seem to resist finding any excuse to drape an arm around your waist, stroke your arm, or playfully tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Every interaction has an undercurrent of flirtation and innuendo. And the cheek kisses become almost routine, pressed on you in front of other drivers, team bosses, cameramen, you name it.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” You finally say in flustered exasperation after he ambushes you with a very public, lingering kiss on the cheek in the paddock one day. You struggle to sound annoyed, but a pleased grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you say it.

“Sorry, ma chérie, I just can’t seem to resist around you,” Charles replies, absolutely zero shame in his voice or demeanor. “You’re lucky I have more self-control than to start making out right here in front of everyone!”

You gasp and slap his arm, scandalized, as he just throws his head back and laughs heartily.

Meanwhile, the double-takes and stunned looks from everyone around just keep coming. Even the normally straight-faced Fred Vasseur can’t seem to hold back smug grins whenever he sees the two of you getting cozy.

“Go on and get a room already, you two!” He finally chuckles one day as Charles passes by in the paddock with his usual arm draped around your waist.

“Don’t tempt me!” Charles quips back without missing a beat, giving you a roguish wink.

Soon, literally everyone in the paddock and broadcast team is aware of and commenting on the developing romance between you and Charles.

He makes no attempt to hide it whatsoever.

“Honestly, I think they’re the most nauseatingly adorable couple I’ve ever seen,” Jenson Button jokes to the rest of the broadcast team one evening as they all watch Charles throw his arm around you yet again and plant a smacking kiss on your temple.

“The honeymoon phase never ends with those two,” Natalie agrees in a wry tone, rolling her eyes. “It’s like they’re a pair of horny teenagers making out behind the bleachers.”

You just shake your head with a bashful smile and accept the good-natured ribbing. The truth is, despite Charles’ very public displays of affection causing some embarrassment and teasing from your colleagues, you find it hard to truly mind.

There’s an earnestness and joy in his demeanor whenever he’s with you that makes your heart swell. You’ve never seen him so openly happy and carefree as these past few weeks. Gone is the tightly wound, intense competitor. In his place is a warm, playful soul who can’t help but let his delight in your company shine through.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his romantic attentions flattering and thrilling. The way his gaze smolders when his eyes meet yours, the tingle of electricity you feel whenever his hand brushes yours, the butterflies that erupt in your stomach when his lips graze your cheek — it all makes you deliriously giddy, like a lovesick teenager yourself.

So you endure the good-natured eye rolls from Natalie and jokes from the broadcast crew with an easy smile. Because the truth is, you’ve realized how deeply you’ve fallen for Charles in return.

“You’ve got me utterly love drunk, you charming fool,” you murmur against his chest one evening.

The two of you are tucked away in a quiet corner, Charles’ back against the wall with his arms wrapped around you as you stand embraced, soaking in a few stolen moments of intimacy together.

“The feeling is mutual,” Charles replies easily, resting his chin on your head. “I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from this madness.” He pauses, absentmindedly stroking your back. “Honestly, I half expected you to get sick of me hanging around all the time by now.”

You pull back to meet his warm green eyes. “Are you kidding? I love having you around. I still have to pinch myself that you actually want to be with me after the way you treated me for so long!”

A flicker of regret passes across Charles’ features. “I truly am sorry for being such an ass before, Y/N. I hope with time you can forgive me.”

“Already forgiven,” you assure him softly. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Relief blossoms on his face and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Thank you, ma belle. For being the most patient and kind woman on earth.”

You grin, eyes fluttering closed as his breath tickles your skin. “Mmm, I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess I do possess some super-human tolerance for broody and aloof superstar drivers with commitment issues.”

Charles chuckles at that and you can feel the rumble of it against your body. “Lucky for me then, or I would still be utterly lost.”

His mouth finds yours then, soft and intoxicating. You melt into the kiss, savoring his warmth, his scent, the gentle stroke of his fingertips along your jaw. All semblance of poise escapes you when you’re pressed against Charles like this. He never fails to make your head spin and body thrum with want.

A polite cough from nearby causes you to break apart abruptly. You blink, dazed, to see Natalie standing with an eyebrow arched sky high.

“Hey lovebirds,” she says in a wry tone. “Sorry to disturb the sunset groping, but they’re calling for final broadcast checks in 10.”

Face flaming, you duck your head and extract yourself from Charles’ embrace. He just shoots Natalie a cheeky grin, entirely unabashed.

“Better get going then,” Charles says cheerfully, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Wouldn’t want you to be late because of me … again.” He winks.

Natalie rolls her eyes hard. “Oh I’m sure that would be a first. See you in 10, Y/N.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back towards the pits. You glance up at Charles shyly.

“I should … uh ...” You gesture vaguely.

“Yes, yes of course,” Charles says, squeezing your hands affectionately. “Work calls. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting around the next corner to steal more kisses as soon as you’re free.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove. “Go on then, you impossible man! I’ll see you in a bit.”

Heart fluttering, you watch him saunter off before heading for the pits yourself, still feeling delightfully dazed.

This is really your life now. Surrounded by racing, the thrill of competition, the roar of engines … and consumed by budding love every time Charles Leclerc is near.

As far as dream jobs go, you think with a lovestruck smile, you’ve really hit the jackpot.

2K notes · View notes

eccentricwritingbaby · 13 days

Text

funny wife, happy life

carlos sainz x wife!reader

summary - the grids beloved couple have begun a prank war, subjecting the drivers and fans to their hilarious antics

masterlist

request by anonnie :) thank you love! - hey you could write about carlos that he and Y/N his wife that they are the funniest couple in the paddock that Y/N has the same personality as carlos that they often play pranks on each other on tiktok

your knees were cramping, on the verge of giving out, as you held your hidden position in your husband’s drivers room. charles had told you he’d be back in a few minutes. a few minutes. ha! you’ve been sitting here for ages and you’re about to collapse. until finally you hear the sweet, sweet sounds of your husband's laugh approaching you quickly. you give a quick scramble to collect yourself and pull up your tik tok account in order to record the heart attack soon to be inflicted upon carlos. the door handle jiggles and opens, alerting you of his presence. his footsteps become closer to your hidden position behind a few large items and abruptly stop. you take it as your queue to jump but before you can-

“BOO!” your husband screeches at you with his phone in your face as you let out a mirroring yell and fall backwards on your ass.

“AYE DIOS MIO!” you hold your hand over your racing heart and carlos crumples to the floor in a fit of hysterics. you can’t help but join in soon, but not without playfully swatting at him in a joking matter of pretending to be angry.

“mi-mi amor,” carlos tries his hardest to get out in between laughs as he begins to sit up, “you’re too easy!” he falls again, most likely due him replaying the scenario again in his head.

“aye! easy? i believe i remember you begging for a date with me, señor,” you continue to chuckle at his phrasing, teasing him relentlessly felt like a duty to you.

“whatever,” he brushes off the playful comment and turns his attention to the video he recorded of you on his phone, “y/n, this is too funny,”

“si, bueno. i wish i got that video of you instead, though” you act out a solemn expression and carlos sees right through your jokes.

“well you didn’t, loser. i’m posting this,”

you and carlos had opted for a night in after the race due to his fatigue and your absolute need for a shower. after lando had pleaded with you both for a minute to rethink your decision as you were walking back to the hotel, he ultimately gave up trying and muttered a slight ‘old married couple’ at you and carlos while the both of you just laughed at his mini tantrum.

once inside your hotel room, carlos headed for the shower, but stopped and turned when he noticed you weren’t following.

“i thought you wanted to shower, amor?” he asked in your direction.

“i do, but i kind of want to shower alone tonight, lo siento,” you respond while biting your lower lip to not give away your amusement. see - you had a plan. while carlos was in the shower you were going to get to the vanity and paint on a fake hickey. set up your phone. and get him back for ruining your prank earlier.

carlos stands looking at you with a bit of skepticism. you rarely shower separately, only when upset with each other and he was beginning to worry, “aye, are you mad about earlier? me scaring you?”

“love, the only thing that is scaring me right now is how stinky you are. i’m not mad i just don’t need a smelly shower with you,” you shrug off his accusation with a laugh in order to lighten the mood and your husband catches on, chuckling with you.

“okay, you don’t need to tell me twice,” he begins to make his way over to you with his arms out wide, “you do want a stinky hug before i hop in, no?” calling your bluff he tries to latch his arms around you as you scream and try to run away.

“sto-stop!” you giggle as he grabs you in his arms, “eww! carlos!” the whine slips from your lips as he starts planting kisses all over your neck and face, tickling you causing you to let out more laughter. his grip loosens and he backs away towards the bathroom, grabbing his change of clothes off the dresser as he does so. one arm raised and a finger pointed at you he lets go of a very loose warning, “this isn’t over, cariño,”

“oh no!” you gasp in dramatics, “the tickle monster! what am i five?” carlos just laughs and releases a ‘loca’ under his breath as he shuts the bathroom door and turns on the shower. you then quickly get to work with your makeup, planting the perfect looking hickey in a place he hasn’t seen all day, but will very soon. once it was done, you discreetly hide your phone and patiently wait on the bed for carlos to leave the bathroom.

fresh out of the shower, your husband steps into your room with just a pair of sweatpants on as he continues to run the towel over his damp hair. you take that as your sign to begin your prank and tie your hair up into a bun - giving carlos the perfect view of your neck. walking over to him, you plant a kiss on his lips and step back from him as he turns his attention towards his wife. looking you up and down for a second, making eye contact with the hickey, you feign confusion and innocence by proceeding to ask, “que, mi amor? is there something on my face?” you attempt to turn and ‘check’ yourself in the mirror, but carlos pulls on your arm, spinning you around to face back at him. he quickly discards the towel in his hand, throwing it to the floor, as he looks closer at your neck.

“did you hurt yourself, cariño?” he asks softly, “maybe with one of your hair tools or something,” he finishes as if he’s almost assuring himself.

“no? what is this carlos?” you question, trying your damnedest not to let out a smile.

“tienes algo en el cuello,” you have something on your neck uh oh. carlos only spoke direct spanish with you when he was deep in a feeling - lust, happiness, anger. “parece un…” it looks like a…

“que?” you ask softly.

“a hickey, y/n. it looks like a hickey. y sé muy bien que no fui yo quien te dio esto,” and i know very well it was not me that gave you this

“oh, oh that? ya, um, actually that might be from my curling iron, you were right!” responding lightly only made carlos narrow his eyes at you further.

“y/n, qué hice mal,” what did i do wrong?

“oh no, carlos, baby, nothing- you did nothing wrong,” you panic at his sadness and hold his face in your hands, “it’s just a prank, los, te lo prometo,” i promise you

he looks down at you, widening his eyes in hope before he says anything, then you hear - so quietly you almost miss it, ‘take it off’.

“i will, i will baby. come here, come with me,” you lead him into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup wipes in haste and rubbing the fake hickey right off your neck. you hear your husband let out a long and deep exhale before he gives your sides a squeeze.

“you just took ten years off my life with that stress, amor,”

“lo siento, carlos. i’ll even show you the video where i put it on if that makes you feel better,” you turn around in his hold and give him not one, not two, but three quick pecks to the lips as you drag him back into the room to retrieve your phone. as of that moment, carlos begins plotting his revenge.

the next week, your husband and you arrive early at the paddock for race day due to his necessary media duties. with your hands intertwined, you begin making your way to the ferrari garage - passing a few reporters and fans on the way. while making your way, a few fans had called out to the both of you. carlos always joked that his fans loved you more than him, but every joke has a bit of truth to it.

“y/n! carlos! over here! can we get a picture?”

your husband - ever the gentleman - turns his attention to the young group of girls at the barricade and leads you both over to them. once carlos had signed a few things and taken a few pictures, you both turn to leave but are prevented by the girls.

“y/n! can we get a picture with you too!” carlos checks you over, asking you non-verbally if you’re okay with it and you slightly nod in his direction to signify the answer. bending down and over slightly, the girls grab a few selfies with you and speak to you about their love for your tik toks, tweets, and overall personality. with your light ego boost, you turn and chuckle to your husband.

“isn’t it great that your fans love me more?” you give him a sly smile and a poke to his stomach as he laughs along with you.

“aye, they’re just saying that to make you feel better, amor,” he shoots back quickly.

“nuh-uh,” you scoff back, “they love me so much more, i think i better be the one to race today,” at this point the girls are recording your interaction while giggling at the banter your husband and you have provided.

“in your dreams, cariño,” he bites back with a smile.

with that comment, you whip around to face the group, “do you hear how he speaks to me? my own husband! he hates me!” you sigh dramatically as carlos pulls you into his arms. the crowd before you erupts in laughter at your antics and your husband bids polite goodbyes, leading you away. you’re both leaving in cackles as you continue to jab each other back and forth.

as you round the corner to the ferrari garage, you both run into fernando walking towards aston martin.

“hola, nando!” you call out with a wave. he stops curtly and leans in your direction, arms parting for a hug. you receive it kindly, swaying lightly back and forth all while exchanging pleasantries.

“aye, he oído felicitaciones están en orden,” i hear congratulations are in order fernando presses with a smile.

“porque felicitaciones?” why congratulations? you ask back to him.

“oh! lo siento, ¿se supone que nadie debe saberlo?” i’m sorry, is no one supposed to know?

your confusion ends when you turn to your now - dying laughing - husband at your left, “¿le dijiste a todo el mundo que estaba embarazada?” did you tell everyone i was pregnant?

carlos can’t even shake out words at this point due to laughter as he just begins to vigorously nod his head yes. fernando takes this as his sign to head back in his previous direction, chuckling under his breath something about ‘these damn kids again’.

“you’re dead, carlos sainz,” you state matter-of-factly at him.

“i’m sorry, me or my fathe-”

“YOU KNOW WHO!” you yell back, cutting off his smart ass comment, “does the whole grid really think im fucking pregnant, you ass?” this time carlos’ laughter is cut short and he just slowly shakes his head yes, nervousness now overwhelming his features instead of amusement.

“do you now realize how stupid that was?” you ask him again. again he slowly nods his head yes, his eyes only meeting his shoes. out of your peripheral, you can see lando approaching the both of you and he holds out his arms in glee.

“there are my favorite soon-to-be parent-”

“SHUT IT!” you snap in his direction, “the only child i will be raising for the foreseeable future is the one in front of me,” you nod your head towards carlos, and his eyes - again - never leave his shoes. lando begins to laugh even louder than your husband did before at his friend being scolded like a child.

“oh i am so tweeting about this,” he lets out between laughs.

you take a glance over at your husband and whisper a light ‘karma’ into his ear before you kiss his cheek and head off to find his family in the garage.

after the race, carlos is doing interviews and you are searching to find him. not being in the media pen, but instead just along the gates talking to reporters, you easily walk up to your husband and wait over to the side for him to finish. the reporter speaking to him notices your presence and begins to wave you over. you shake it off quickly, wanting your husband to have his shining moment, but instead he also joins in waving you over - causing you to reluctantly head in their direction.

“hi!” you squeak out to the reporter, carlos pulling you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“hi, y/n! thank you for joining us for the interview!” the young woman starts.

“thank you for letting me crash!” you reply back with a giggle.

“not crashing, you’re here by invitation,” your husband speaks up, kissing your forehead after doing so.

“i’m sorry if we were too forward to invite you,” the reporter chimes in fast.

“no, no!” you assure back, “i just didn’t want to outshine ‘ole carlos over here, you know how it is,” you joke, giving the reporter and your husband a laugh.

“for sure,” the young woman gives you, “we love you two as a couple, you both have been informally deemed the grids funniest couple with all your banter and tik tok pranks, how do you both feel about that title?”

“it’s a heavy weight to carry,” you dramatically sigh, “i have to keep the people on their toes and give them what they want,” the reporter laughs once again at your comments as you shrug before your husband chimes in, “funny wife, happy life - right?” you all share one more laugh before the reporter lets you two depart.

as you’re walking out of the paddock, hand in hand, you reach up on your toes to plant a kiss to carlos’ lips. he hums back in approval, stopping you, with his hold moving to your waist and pressing deeper. you smile into the kiss and can feel him doing the same. once pulling apart, your husband stares into your eyes, the contact moving from eye to eye to lips. you almost crumble watching him shamelessly adore you.

“what are you thinking about, amor?” you gently ask, attempting not to ruin the soft moment with loud diction.

“just how much i love you, cariño,” his reply is simple, yet means so much. even though you both are playful with your antics and pranks, your love is something that never falters with seriousness. and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

2K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 3 days

Text

sparks fly - charles leclerc

summary: everyone thinks y/n and lando are a couple, but when she begins to soft launch another driver, people start to catch on.

a/n: no face claim, the order and outcomes of races are fictional,

liked by charles_leclerc, lilyzneimer, and 39, 376 others ynusername and it's all too much for little lando norris

francisca.cgomes Ahhh so gorgeous

ynusername kikaaa

user52763 y/n and lando karting maybe 🫣

user19822 I don't think that looks like lando tbh

landonorris Catching them z's 😴😴 liked by ynusername

user92738 my fave wag!

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 711, 029 others quadrant Our new video 'Reaction Test' is out now!! Featuring special guest @ ynusername, who do you think wins?

ynusername thanks for having me guys!! liked by quadrant

user82739 okay did anyone else see the way lando looked at y/n during the vid... like excuse me

user25382 YES LIKE CONFIRM UR RELATIONSHIP ALREADY

charles_leclerc I'll just assume that y/n lost

ynusername charles i've never felt more betrayed... landonorris @ charles_leclerc Correct!

liked by ynusername, pierregasly, and 6, 227, 276 others charles_leclerc New addition to our little family 🩷

landonorris Bet you're gonna start calling yourself a dad now

ynusernme oh he already has

ynusername baby leoooo

charles_leclerc Great name 😉 user52763 @ charles_leclerc what's the wink for huh??

user92837 ohmygod he's become a dad

user92736 wdym 'OUR little family'...

user28622 SOFT CHARLES CONTENT OMFG

maxverstappen1 Very cute Charles liked by charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, and 48, 928 others ynusername monaco is awesomeeeee! thanks for being my personal chauffeur @ arthur_leclerc when my bf is too busy 😇

arthur_leclerc Well I am the better driver

charles_leclerc No.

user82738 BOYFRIEND???

user15273 who lives in monaco... LANDOOOOO

user90192 Leo??? Why is y/n hanging out with his dog

ynusername beacause he's cute

user16372 not y/n hanging out with the leclerc brothers minus charles 😭

ynusername i spend too much time with charles user52763 @ ynusername wdym by that??

liked by ynusername, lorenzotl, and 7, 811, 287 others charles_leclerc Much needed family time before the big race 🩷

landonorris Ooooh Charles the romantic

user82736 WHO IS SHE LET US IN

ynusername leo is adorable liked by charles_leclerc

user92831 oh i'm so ready for this gp

user18127 Y/N?

arthur_leclerc You're girlfriend is very pretty

charles_leclerc Stop. user63762 Girlfriend, Charles???

liked by user82732, user98272, and 365 others user98276 y/n l/n in the ferrari garage... are u thinking what i'm thinking

user52873 i'm actually so confused like I was convinced that y/n and lando were a thing but now charles likeeee

user82766 REAL

user62873 Idc I'll believe in y/n and lando forever.

user52983 so is this confirming her wag era

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, oscarpiastri, and 3, 627, 229 others landonorris Onto qualifying 💪 Absolutely buzzing to have my girlfriend with me this week too 🥰

luisinhaoliveira99 🧡🤍 liked by landonorris

ynusername open ur eyes mate

luisinhaoliveira99 I specifically told him not to blink too!!

user92647 Yeah what the fuck is going on

user42873 I KNOW LIKE HUH

user52846 she's so beautiful

user83552 How long have you been together for?

landonorris Almost a year haha. She told me I could finally 'hard launch'

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, and 56, 833 others ynusername omg arthur's brother won in monaco!

charles_leclerc Arthur's brother, really?!

ynusername my bad, arthur and lorenzo's brother!

user67299 Yeah this had GOT to be a hard launch...

user72924 holding hands in a ferrari like come on

scuderiaferrari ❤️🏎️ liked by ynusername

luisinhaoliveira99 Our guys on the podium together 💞

user63849 OUR GUYS WHATWHATWHAT

liked by scuderiaferrari, ynusername, and 12, 782, 918 others charles_leclerc Wow my feelings cannot be described right now. Thank you to everyone single person who has made this possible for me. It has been a dream of mine since I was a boy to win in Monaco, and to finally achieve it with all the people I love the most is such a pleasure. Thank you thank you thank you ❤️🤍

ynusername sosososo proud of u

charles_leclerc Thank you Y/N 💗

landonorris Congrats big brother liked by charles_leclerc

user82374 Give him the title 'Prince of Monaco' already

user21938 awww charles and y/n on the last slide

user67245 My fav couple already

user72354 Charles is on fire this season 🔥🔥

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, and 1, 238, 276 others lando.jpg Good thing I bring a camera on night outs. Celebrating the big guy @ charles_leclerc's home win 🎉🥳🥂

user82287 HAHA FERNANDO

user52763 y/n and charles hehe

ynusername send the photos!!

lando.jpg Which one? The ones of u and Charles sucking face user62537 @ lando.jpg oh thank u for outing them

user55283 they all love charles so much omf

user82631 LANDO JUST CONFIRMING CHARLES AND Y/N LIKE IT'S NOTHING???

view charles_leclerc's story

liked by arthur_leclerc, lilyzneimer, and 62, 336 others ynusername happy birthday boyf!! i wish u loved me as much as you love leo 😔

landonorris BOYFRIEND???

ynusername you're acting as if u didn't introduce us and basically force us to date user52973 @ ynusername okay lando u little matchmaker

arthur_leclerc It only took a year and a bit to be instagram official

user62536 A YEAR? AND A BIT? WHAT THE FUCK

user52839 this is too much wow i'm still recovering from finding out that lando's been in a long term relationship and now you

charles_leclerc I love you and Leo equally

ynusername no i'm getting replaced by a dog

liked by landonorris, ynusername, and 3, 265, 267 others charles_leclerc The only way I want to spend my birthday, love you mon belle 🩵

ynusername i mean we still have some other activities to do 😏

arthur_leclerc Oh my god ew

maxverstappen1 Happy Birthday mate :) liked by charles_leclerc

user82889 YES YES YES I LOVE CHARLES AND Y/N

user92893 this is the only couple i care about

landonorris Everyone say 'thank you lando'

ynusername thank 😒 you 😒 charles_leclerc I say thank you all the time.

let me know if you enjoyed this, i love seeing your comments and messages!! and as always, my inbox is open so feel free to drop a req!

1K notes · View notes

sunny44 · 1 month

Text

Lost in the Paddock

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: none, just a lil blurb

Summary: A few drivers got an eye on Carlos girlfriend.

The paddock was bustling as always, and I walked through it trying to find the Ferrari garage. It was easy to get lost in the confusion of teams, mechanics, and journalists, and that's exactly what happened to me.

Carlos and I have been together for 4 years, but I had never been to a race before and was trying to find my way around. I was already familiar with his world, so that's why we decided to keep our relationship hidden.

As I walked, I could feel the curious looks of some reporters, fans, and even some drivers since I was wearing the Ferrari badge.

Among them were drivers like Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc, and from what Carlos told me about them, I knew they were cool.

Lando was the first to approach, with his bright and confident smile.

"Hey, you seem lost. Need any help?" I smiled politely, trying not to reveal my nervousness.

"Yeah, I'm actually very lost," I smiled nervously, and he chuckled.

"I'm Lando, by the way."

"Oh, I know your name, I'm Y/n.”

"It's a beautiful name. Just like the owner." He smiled, and I saw Max and Charles approaching.

"Thank you. Actually, I'm looking for the Ferrari garage."

"Or you could come with me to Red Bull. Our garage is much cooler, and I'm Max, by the way." I felt flattered by their attention, and I had to hold back from laughing because they really had no idea who I was.

"He's lying, the Ferrari garage is much better, and I would love to take you there."

He smiled, and if I didn't love Carlos, surely that smile and those dimples would have won me over.

I was startled when I felt arms around my waist and recognized the hands immediately.

"Hiii baby.” I turned and held his face, kissing him.

"Hey hermosa, I thought you'd arrive later," he smiled and looked at the three behind me. “Why the shocked faces? And what are you doing around my girlfriend?"

"She's your girlfriend?" Lando asked shocked.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?" Charles said.

"Since when?" This time it was Max.

"Like 4 years ago," he said.

"4 YEARS?" Lando shouted and got a slap from Max.

"Why do you look so shocked? As if it were impossible for me to have a girlfriend."

“It's just that she's WOW, and you're you," Lando said, and I laughed.

“Oh, thanks for calling me ugly."

“It's not that, it's just that she's way out of your league.”

“And way more out of yours so back off and stop drooling, all three of you.” he said, taking my hand.

"Bye, boys, it was nice meeting you, and thanks for the help.” I said, waving to them.

“You don't think I'm ugly, do you?" He asked, and I started laughing.

“Of course not, in fact, I think you're very very hot." I gave him a peck on the cheek, and he smiled as we headed to the Ferrari garage.

Bonus scene!

Carlossainz Instagram stories

“Yes, I have a hot girlfriend!!!!!”

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natailiatulls07 · 6 months

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The eyes, chico. They never lie.

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary - Everyone can see how much Charles loves Y/n just from his eyes, they hold so much adoration for her

Warning - Nothing just a overload of cuteness 😚

A/n - This has been sat in my drafts for weeks and since college is just killing me rn, I thought I should post it 🫶🏻🫶🏻

username I just want to start a tread of Charles Leclerc looking at Y/n because he looks so in love with her! I’ll go first with Charles’ Monaco race weekend vlog like 🥹🥹

username OMG What about that time where she was on balcony above his garage and he was just talking to her from the pit lane!!!!

username OR OR Or during the 2022 secret Santa video and he found out she helped pick out his present so he got something he wanted like that was cutest thing EVER

username No because the second best one was when she was comforting him after his DNF in Zandvoort!! He was looking at her like she was an angel from the greatest of heavens 😍😍

username And the best look goes to his win in Austria 2022, like everything about it is PERFECT from the adoration in his eyes to the kiss he blew to her 😭🥹

arthur_leclerc posted a story

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princessedesfleursss · 2 months

Text

CS55E2

Pairing: carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: morning sex

It was almost 6 in the morning. You had to get up to make breakfast for the kids and get them ready for school. Obviously the nanny was going to do it anyways but you always helped out despite your busy schedule. Today was one of those mornings where work started late into the afternoon so you had some morning time.

Despite your attempts to get yourself up from bed a hand held you down in place. Holding you close to a warm body. It was none other than your husband who was enjoying his holidays after the end of the season.

Trying to move away only made it worse for you as you felt your body being held even closer to the warm body behind you.

“Mi amor trying to get me horny early in the morning?” Questioned a raspy voice to your ear.

You shuddered at his words and as you felt his now erection press against your back you groaned.

“Carlos not today. I have to get the kids ready for school.”

“But baby you still have time no?” He asked manhandling you to turn around to face him.

You smiled when your eyes met his sleepy ones. His voice gave away his unawake form but his features told you otherwise. With sun rays beaming across his tanned skin, glowing his brown eyes Carlos looked ethereal in front of you. You let your fingers run through his thick locks that you and his fans equally adored as Carlos moved forward to kiss the exposed skin on your shoulder. Making sure to suck on a certain spot to leave a mark and earning a small whimper from you in the process.

After he was done marking you he grabbed your face with a hand and pulled you in for a kiss. Your hands swept across his bare chest as you felt his heartbeat beneath your palm. He kissed you so passionately making you completely awake and aroused.

Right after he was done kissing you and placing smooches all across your face to let you know how much he adored you the alarm on your phone went off. You turned around to off it and got off of bed right after that.

But Carlos was much faster and moved across the bed, while making sure the blanket was still covering his lower torso, to grab hold of your hand.

“Cariño don’t leave me here alone,” he begged giving you his signature puppy eyes.

You laughed looking at him and pointing at the clock, “Hello? The kids need to go to school. Are you even a dad?”

With a hard tug he pulled you to the bed and on top of him, “Yes I am a dad but before that I am your husband”

With a cheeky smile he looked up at you. Messy bed hair and a silk gown that barely managed to cover you up as you lay on top of him.

You looked down at him in awe. How lucky you were to have him as your man. You let your fingers gently glide across his chest and traced patterns on his prominent facial features. You felt his erection harden underneath you for the second time. Smiling you leaned down to kiss him ever so passionately. Your tongues moved against each other in fiery passion and his hands rubbed your arms radiating goosebumps all over your body.

Quickly you slipped yourself under the blanket. Your naked core touched his erection which drove you crazy. Kneeling up and aligning yourself you looked at him for a signal and pushed yourself down in one go. An uncontrollable moan slipped out of your lips which you managed to tone down. You took him in slowly and took him nearly out slowly. With your hands against his chest you rode him taking all of him as deep as you could take and lifting yourself up to push yourself down and do it all over again. This went for a couple strokes until Carlos got impatient and was aware about the time.

Pushing his knees up to cradle your back against his thighs and pulling your upper body into him he thrusted hard into you making you almost scream with the simultaneous pleasure and pain which strung though you.

“I need you to be a good wife and take what I’m going to give you alright. Because we’re running out of time”

You whined as he pushed his hips inside of you, rutting into your core at a hard pace. His hands was gripping your hips at a bruising manner pushing you into him. You tried muffling your moans into his pillow as your hands tugged at his lucious locks. A few grunts later he came undone just as you did.

Carlos dropped his legs flat on to the bed and hugged you closer to him letting your mixed cum not leak out of your bruised hole. You lifted your tired head up and kissed him sloppily. Just then you felt his erection start to stir up again.

Shaking your head with a laugh you pushed yourself off of his and limped off to the bathroom throwing a mom like remark at him,

“Not again horny boy”

To which Carlos simply chuckled.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz doc #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #ferrari #smut

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norrisleclercf1 · 4 months

Note

Hello! Can you please do gasly reader with Charles leclerc and they are in a secret relationship because Pierre is super Crazy protective over her and they have the best sibling bond. And age gap please and obsessed charles please

A/N" I utterly love this trope! Age gap and secretive realtionship??? Yes please

Lying on your stomach, tracing the jaw and nose of your sleeping boyfriend. Charles was completely naked, and you knew he'd have to leave for training soon but also have to dodge your brother who always come for Monday brunch.

Sighing gently, you watch as the sun kisses his skin sending it a shimmering gold. "Charles," You whisper. Charles groans rolling over and tugging you into his chest. You sigh, loving the feeling of your skin touching his.

"Go back to sleep," You giggle, knowing you couldn't do that or else Pierre would most definitely catch you two. "Pierre will be here soon." Charles growls and blinks his eyes open the sun making them look like jewels bouncing in the ocean. "Tell him to fuck off, stay here," Charles presses a burning kiss to your neck. "With me," Another on your collarbone. "In bed, all day." You yelp when Charles pinches your ass and takes advantage of it and hauls you into his lap.

The covers pool around your hips, showing off the marks he left on your stomach and tits in full glory. He loved marking you, always pushing the limits of leaving them on you. "Charles, Pierre can't know about us. I'm his little sister," You whisper and Charles's happy look is replaced with a dark one. "So? You're not his, you're mine." You feel your heart shudder at the words.

Charles was constantly there, rolling off Pierre's questions on why he was always around you when you were with him or the other drivers. Charles stepping between you and the others, acting like he was innocent and that it wasn't on purpose.

The only time he was almost caught was when he tripped Lando who tried to hit on you. Everyone was shocked that Charles would do that, but those eyes and lips quickly got him out of any trouble. "Charlie," You don't get to finish your sentence when the door is opened and your alarm chirps with the notification.

"Fuck!" You curse and quickly throw something on and bolt out of your bedroom, tripping over Charles's shoes. Your eyes grow wide and toss them back into the room and turn smiling brightly at your brother.

"What are you wearing? I know we live in France but that's a bit," You scuff at Pierre and toss a pillow at him. "Fuck off, I was just about to get into the shower. Besides, how'd you get in?" You hope to god Charles was getting dressed and climbing down your building. But you knew the smug bastard would try anything to get caught.

"I have a key, also it's Monday time for brunch." Pierre tosses himself on the sofa. Your eyes grow wide, seeing Charles's Ferrari keys right on the coffee table. Moving quickly you slide onto the table and sit on the keys. "I know, but you ever heard of privacy?" You snark.

Pierre shrugs his shoulders, not caring one bit. "So? You're my sister, besides you're late." Looking at the clock you choke on your spit seeing how it was well past the time you were supposed to meet Pierre.

"Oh, let me go get dressed." Pierre nods and turns on the TV as you quickly grab the keys and rush to your bedroom. And there he is, still lying naked on your bed with a smirk on his lips. "Charles," You hiss silently locking the door. "Get dressed and out," You whine and the smirk slides away. "Why?" "Because Pierre can't know just yet." You plead tossing his clothes at him.

Charles scuffs and moves getting dressed and slides on his shoes. "You're mine, I want everyone to know." He breathes, kissing you on the forehead. "Soon, just not now." Charles opens your window and climbs out of it, long gone is his angelic face, the one of a fallen angel now. "I love you," Charles kisses you deeply biting your lip and drawing some blood. "Also, my shirt looks fucking great on you," The window closes leaving you in silence before your whine into your pillow

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forteafy · 9 months

Text

Baby Steps | MV1

Summary: You've always been Mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. All it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: Mild Smut, Childbirth, Angst, Mentions of Jos Verstappen.

26th November; the night of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix should have been the happiest of your life.

Not many people in the world can hold their head up high and say they have won a Formula 1 world championship, let alone three. Ever since your toothy grin and shy comments when first stepping into the paddock, you had been making waves in the motorsport world. Years later, under the attentive eye of Toto Wolff and Mercedes, you had become effortlessly cool and undeniably talented; the core makings of a three-time world champion.

The night of your first win was…you can’t even say a distant memory; the last thing you could vividly remember was linking arms with the golden boy of Mercedes, laughing merrily as you were guided down to the foyer of the extravagant hotel, the entire team with their warm comments and loving attitude ready for their new-found champion. The next day consisted of crouching over the porcelain throne, your insides rejecting any form of substance, the smell of tequila on your skin making you belch more. It was a cruel cycle, but one that every world champion had learnt.

It also hadn’t ceased you from repeating the identical routine the next year; the feeling was so nice, you had to do it twice. Ironically, you had also worn the identical bra and panty set of the first year; not that anybody had seen it. Boys were off limits during the height of your career. This was your choice, of course. PR would have given their overpriced marketing tools to see you on the arm of a successful man, thinking of the faux love story they could spin.

No, in order to be successful, respected; you’d sworn off any romantic relationship. You were not a figure to be held next to a man for beauty. Moreover, you were almost certain that if Toto saw a man within three feet of you, he’d frighten them off, in true fear that anybody would come near his youngest prodigy.

The third year had been set; the routine was laid out in front of you, ready to make mistakes you’d groan and then forget about by the fourth. Instead, you found yourself crouched in the cramped cubicle of the nightclub, a hand over your mouth and nose, attempting to muffle the gulps from your lips. Your eyes had glossed over, intensely focused on the piece of plastic fisted in your palm. Two blue lines, interlapped to create a cross. A plus sign. A positive sign.

You were pregnant.

19th October; a month prior to what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You’d been the personification of a peacock; feathers flexing as you walked through the paddock, your tenth pole position of the year resting comfortably on your shoulders. Heavy pats on your back, a cheeky wink towards the camera of Sky Sports and cheers from the crowds had guided your return to your motorhome, thanking your PR assistant as you slid into the only four walls on the track where there was a form of privacy.

Except there wasn’t. A figure was relaxed into your sofa with a photograph in his hands, eyes trained on your body when you’d entered the room, unknowing of their presence. A grin appeared on his smug face upon seeing you practically skyrocket out of your skin, noting the other person in your sanctuary. He eventually stands up, removing his branded Red Bull cap to place on your sofa.

“You shouldn’t be here, Max.” You scoff, snatching the polaroid out of his fingers, returning the photo to its rightful place; atop of the plush chilli Carlos Sainz had bought you for your birthday. (He’d also bought you a bullet vibrator, trying to remind you of your stubbornness, urging you to relax a little.)

“Nice photograph.” He comments, his blue eyes flickering over to where it now stood, propped up in pride. You sat centre of the track in Abu Dhabi; two younger figures sat between your legs. They both rested a chubby hand on your World Driving Championship trophy, huge grins at the shining object. “Friends of yours?”

“Sisters.” You mumble in return, removing the snapback from your head, balancing it on top of your shelf. The cool air finds the roots of your hair instantly, a wave of relief rolling through your entire body when your hand comes up to soothe your scalp. “Congratulations on…was it P16?” You gloat, hoping your rival would catch the message that you didn’t want him to be there.

Max feels his lips drop and eyebrows meet at the cold reminder of his own qualification result. He knew the season was drawing to a close, quickly at that, and the constant reminder that he would be losing another championship to Mercedes golden girl was the last thing he needed. The smug grin on your lips remains, turning around to slide your arms out of your race suit, letting the top half rest on your hips, sleeves hanging loosely at your legs.

“That’s why I came to see you.” He responds, standing up straighter, arms folded as his eyes train on your own movement. “It makes my losses look miniscule compared to your own.” His own grin has returned now, satisfied with his own response to the situation.

You had been playing this game for months. The first year of your relationship on the grid had been friendly, the second had been hostile. The third had been downright dangerous. It began to get to a point where the grid, the press, everyone had picked up on the relationship between yourself and the Red Bull driver.

“Hey, I’ll do anything to help you forget this will be my third World Championship.” You snap back, turning around to meet his figure, your own arms mimicking, folding against your chest. This time, you take a step closer. “Maybe next year Christian Horner will remember his ‘Precious Little Maxie.’

Max scoffs at the nickname you had given him, eyes noting the step you had taken. He responds, taking his own step. “Trust me. There’s nothing little about me.” His eyes meet yours when he finishes his sentence, and for the first time, Max Verstappen has left you completely and utterly speechless. Mind goes into overdrive, years of hatred are forgotten has his hands fly out, grasping each side of your face, meshing his lips to your own.

Your first thought is to push the swine away, slap him across the face and scream for Toto Wolff to grab him by the collar. Clouded, spaced out; your mind begins to crack, your only thought is how good his lips feel against your own, how soft they feel against your cheek, how sinful they trace against your neck.

Max’s palms had originally rested on your cheek, they had begun their trail, slithering down your sides, grip tightening as they reached your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his body, grinding his crotch against your own, the desperation of his member clearly noticeable.

A gasp emitted from your lips, feeling his teeth begin to nip across the soft skin of your neck, desperately searching for that one spot that would make you crumble. Max’s hands make quick work, one wrapping around your waist in order to keep you secure, the other grasping you fireproofs, race suit and panties in a fluid motion, exposing the sweet centre he had been craving. Nimble fingers trail around your entrance, swiping a finger against your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rewarding him with the most sinful sound he had ever received.

“Max-“ You gasped, mind clouded by lust, how your desire of this man had built from your core the moment you had seen him in person, years ago. “Max, please-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbled, his own hand pulling down his trousers and underwear, rubbing his shaft for preparation. “Do not ruin this fucking moment.”

In a swift motion, Max has you pinned against the wall of your driver room, the cool wall sending a shiver against your skin. You barely have time to register the coolness dancing across you before your mind is overwhelmed by the feeling of his length slipping into your wet folds, and there is truly nothing little about him in that moment, mind sent into overdrive when he brings his lips back to yours.

19th December, twenty-three days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You had finally thrown yourself entirely into a distraction; Christmas. You’d flew back to Brackley alongside your teammate, both of you returning to the Mercedes base before retiring for the holidays. There had been no string short of invites flooding into your inbox, asking if you wanted to join them in any festivities. Anything at this point was a wanted distraction from the impending coil growing in your stomach, both figuratively and literally.

And so, you attended a Christmas Market alongside George and Carmen, passing on the mulled wine the two had insisted on trying. You’d gone to see Jack’s Christmas performance alongside Toto and Suzie but declined going to the fish restaurant they had mentioned; (you’d read somewhere in your first week of sheer panic that you could no longer go near fish whilst pregnant.) You’d gone to Lando’s new apartment in London but had seen the scowl on his face when you’d complained about your ‘bad stomach,’ and couldn’t do any heavy lifting of decorations.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve; Lewis had come to your family’s home, presents for your younger siblings, parents and yourself, of course. He’d sat politely, sipped on your mother’s tea, laughed politely at the antics building up towards the big day itself.

Spending time with somebody for three quarters of the year will teach you a lot about them; Lewis knew you like he knew each twist and turn of every track he’d raced along during the years. He knew you laughed with your whole stomach to the point where you had to grab something for support; that before every single race you would have your ‘top secret handshake’ with your race engineer, (you insisted your race would always go more smoothly if you did so, the last time you didn’t had resulted in a DNF.)

What Lewis knew most, was you were a complete and utter sucker for anything with chocolate. He had seen you practically sob when your trainer had found protein brownies that would work in your diet. So why did you decline your mothers’ sweet desserts when offered around the lounge? Why did you seem to hold your breath when the scent of treats was wafted under your nose, almost as if you’d vomit if you came into contact with them?

Carefully, your teammate placed his mug down on the low table, wiggling out of the space between your younger sisters; both were entranced by him. In any other situation, he would have sat there for hours, listening to their oh-so-sweet stories. Instead, he whistled for Roscoe, watching as the dog stooped up from his position by the fire, tottering over towards his owner.

“I’m going to take Roscoe out for a wee.” He nods towards your figure, slouched on the opposite sofa. “You coming?” The way he phrases his question; you can tell it’s not a question, it’s a command. You nod, placing down your own mug, stretching as you pulled yourself away from the leather recliner.

Your sisters were now engrossed by one of the presents Lewis has insisted they had to open early. Your mother and father were running through their guest list for tomorrow; nobody seemed to notice as the two of you slipped on your outerwear, whistling for Roscoe as you stepped through the dining room and onto the porch of the family home you had gifted your parents almost 1 year ago now.

Lewis’ eyes meet yours the moment you had closed the ornate doors. You struggle to meet his gaze; you know he has begun to put the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle together. He barely waits for the sound of the door closing before he starts to speak, the mannerisms he reserves for his teammate in instant appeal.

“Alright. What’s happening then?” He asks almost instantly, motioning for you to walk alongside him, taking the scenic route of the large garden. “You’d never turn down sweet things. You do everything to make your mother smile, why would you turn down her cooking?”

“I’ve just gone off that kind of stuff.” You mumble, not really thinking about what you were saying. You’d later remember to be more careful with your responses. You were not expecting him to piece it together so quickly through his own train of thought.

“Oh, my sister was like that when she was pregnant with-“ He cuts himself off, ceasing his steps when he realises what has escaped his lips. His head snaps back to look at you, and his heart melts. You, his self-assured, sweet teammate, now with tears in your eyes, a visible shake running across your body. He’s not stupid, he’s far from it.

“You’re pregnant.” He almost whispers, seeing how the words are visibly affecting you. Lewis says nothing, instead pulling you straight into his chest, arms engulfing you as he feels your body loosen, silently shaking with held back tears of being reminded of your current situation. “But…how?” He murmurs, loud enough for you to hear. He knew of your dating rule. Even outside of the press, no man ever seemed to be enough to knock you down, let alone knock you up.

You can’t tell him, not now. You couldn’t tell him. You had to tell him.

“Max.” You whisper, barely able to have the name on your lips. Lewis’ brows furrow. He knows in his heart he is right, but he doesn’t want to be.

“Fewtrell?” He responds, referencing to Lando’s oldest friend. You had been to see them recently, after all.

“Verstappen.”

Lewis’ isn’t sure what to say in that moment. Instead, he simply keeps you in his arms, in this moment at least, he can keep you warm, safe. Away from questioning eyes and the stories which will surely follow you until the end of time, until the end of your career. Instead, he asks the one question which you had been blocking out for oh-so-long, that you had been putting off since you threw yourself into these festivities.

“What are you going to do?”

6th January, 41 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You knew what you were going to do.

You knew from the moment you had been called into your first ultrasound scan; by this point, only a few select people knew of the situation. Lewis. Your parents. The delivery driver at Dominoes Pizza whom had given you a strange look when handing over a pizza with no cheese, but three lots of spicy peppers.

Going to your first ultrasound alone had been terrifying; bringing somebody along would have drawn too much attention. You had played a mighty risk by going alone, hoping you wouldn’t be recognised. You didn’t want Mercedes to catch wind of the happenings, instead hoping nobody would openly tweet about your live location.

Your nurse doesn’t recognise you; if she does, she doesn’t show it. She’s polite and kind, makes sure that you haven’t used the bathroom in four hours, something to do with amniotic fluid. The cold jelly on your stomach sends an odd feeling through your body, as if cold cream was balancing on your tummy. There’s a sharp prod, a poke, and then you see the nurse smile.

“Ah, there they are!” She glows.

And there they are. Sat there, in your stomach. A small curve, to anybody else, a completely unidentifiable shape. But to you? The most precious shape that was completely and utterly undeniably yours. How you could have thought that you could go through life without knowing them is beyond you.

That was the moment you knew what you were going to do.

All you had to do now, was tell Toto. No big deal.

23rd February, 89 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“Horner!”

Toto was known to be larger than life, and his voice only proved that theory as he stormed out of his Paddock Office, completely abandoning any information being presented about Pre-Testing in Bahrain. Instead, he’s seeing red, he’s seeing that Horner’s complete and utter dickhead of a driver has knocked up his winner. His current champion. (With no disrespect to Lewis, of course.)

Your teammate had been there, holding your hand when you had broken the news to Toto, your race engineer and your trainer. Your PR assistant was aware of the situation, currently attempting to make a game plan of how to handle the situation. She was adamant you needed to remain in the paddock; you still needed to be a part of the sporting world, even if you weren’t driving.

At first, Toto thought it was Lewis’ baby, ready to bang both of their heads together and reprimand them for not being careful. When it had slipped whose child it was, (Toto was well aware of your rule too, he was just as confused as Lewis had been when he’d first found out.) Toto didn’t care about anything. More importantly, he didn’t care that your pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge.

Toto had stormed into Red Bull’s garage, much to the widened eyes of Christian Horner. Despite being shorter, he instantly holds himself against the Austrian, arms folded, a smirk on his face at the entrance of the unwanted guests.

“How can I help you, Toto?” He smirks, ready for some remark. Instead, Toto leans to Christian’s ear, murmuring something unhearing to the rest of the garage. You can take a guess to what is said however, judging by how pale the Red Bull’s Team Principle had gone. In one swift move, he motions for Toto and yourself to follow him, calling out to his own team.

“Send Max to my office. Now.” His voice is unrevealing, but his skin is growing paler by the minute.

You had never been into a Red Bull garage, and yet now you sat in Horner’s own office, amazed by the fact their colour schemes and trophies could be carried around the world. Mercedes kept theirs at home, sometimes plain and simple was the way to go. You began to wonder if you should bring your trophies to your next races, maybe it would give the team a reminder of what can be achieved.

“Sit.” Horner motions to the couch in the office. You take a seat almost instantly, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Lewis places himself next to you, an arm around your back protectively. Toto refuses to take a command, instead remaining standing, arms folded, a glare of hatred towards Christian.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” The Red Bull team principal scoffs. “I didn’t tell Max to sleep with your little prodigy.” He may not be showing it, but Christian himself was downright livid with his driver. Max needed to focus; the team needed to focus on gaining back a world championship. Max was scarily focused, but when it came to the women in his life; his mother, his sister, his new little girlfriend Christian had seen in the paddock earlier that day, he would change, they became his focus.

“You need to keep that boy away from my team!” Toto retaliates. He could have gone deeper, he was all but ready to drag Max into the middle of the track and hold him there, letting Lewis drive into him at full force. Before any more threats could be thrown across the office, a door opens, the present grin on Max Verstappen’s face wiped instantly upon seeing Toto, Lewis and yourself.

“Max.” Christian starts, arms folded, the voice he used to reprimand his children now present. He can’t continue his phrasing however, before Toto scoffs, pointing an accusing finger towards the driver.

“You!” He roars, instantly forgetting the plead you had given him half an hour before, longing to keep this news as quiet as you could for as long as possible. “You couldn’t keep away; you have ruined my team! How dare you knock her up!” Toto is only stopped when you jump up from your seat, grabbing both of his arms in an attempt to stop his frantic ranting.

It takes Max a moment to process what has been said, he’s always struggled with quick responding when it’s not on a racetrack. It hits him all at once. Your pregnant. You’d slept together a month ago. Without protection, purely in the heat of the moment. Max Verstappen was going to be a father alongside his arch-rival.

“You’re pregnant?” Max can’t help his questioning, catching your eyes for the first time since entering the room. You can only offer him a nod, unable to form words in that current moment. “And…it’s mine? Are you sure?”

Your blood ran cold, you finally understood the rage that your Team Principle. You turn around, eyes darkened, shaking your head in pure anger. “Who else have I slept with, Max? You want to tell me that?” The audacity of this man. How dare he question you.

“You’re not keeping it, right?” Christian is the first to question. Max’s eyes gloss over, coughing lightly before overtaking the conversation from his own Team Principle. “I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.” His own skin mimics that of Christian; he turns as pale as the white lines of a hard tyre.

“You’re not-“ You cut yourself off, instead opting to keep silent. You had nothing else to say. Max had made his stance on the situation clear. “I don’t need you, Max. I can do this myself.” The entire room watches as you pull away from Lewis and Toto, never once looking at the father of your child.

10st March, 105 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

The Monaco Grand Prix was usually the highlight of your year; champagne podiums, speed boats and the comfort of sleeping in your own bed. However, this time you were not watching it from the screen of your car, nor the comfort of the paddock. You’d opted to remain at your apartment. For a start, the headlines which had been spiralling across the media were growing overwhelming. ‘Mercedes driver pulled out of racing until further notice.’ ‘Max Verstappen breaks up with new girlfriend after only weeks together.’ ‘Valtteri Bottas to pose for nude charity calendar.’

Maybe that last one wasn’t to do with your situation; you were all too aware of how your grid buddy could act in his down time.

Your second worry was the fact that your bump was beginning to grow adamant. It had only been around three months, yet the bump seemed almost ballooning. Every piece of clothing you tried on made you feel like it was more and more obvious. You didn’t want anybody seeing what was happening to your body. Besides, it wasn’t like the pregnancy was an entire secret anymore.

You hadn’t heard from Max since that day in the office. Toto had found you crying an hour later, coaxing you to stop for your own health and the sake of the baby. For the first part of the racing season, your unfilled seat had been passed to George Russell. You’d smiled at each interviewer, telling the world you had an injury which made driving next to impossible at the present time. For each Grand Prix, you’d stayed sat next to Toto, cheering on the silver arrows. Maybe you hadn’t seen Max because you barely set foot outside of the garage.

The news had slowly begun to spread from driver to driver, though each remained loyal and hadn’t told the press of your true reasoning for stepping away. Charles had been around in an instant, helping you to talk through what had been happening. He was your neighbour, after all, he liked to check in when he could. You’d had a visit from Daniel, telling you his best friend was a…well, how he put it, ‘a grade-a cunt,’ for how he had reacted.

There was only one person, however, whom you had wanted to speak to. Sebastian had been a close friend, almost a mentor, during your first batch of Formula 1 seasons. He was also a father himself, maybe he would be able to explain to you Max’s stance on the whole thing.

You knew he was visiting Monaco that weekend for the Grand Prix. When your phone buzzed from your living room, you’d assumed it was him asking for you to come and let you into the complex. What you were not expecting, was the text on your phone from none other than the father of your child.

14:05: Max Verstappen

I don’t know if you have me blocked, I’m hoping you do not. I want to apologise for my reaction. It was a lot. I want to be there, for you and our child.

14:09: You

I appreciate the message. Thank you. My next scan is on Tuesday, after Monaco.

14:11: Max Verstappen

I’d like to be there. Could you send me the details, please?

14th March, 109 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Max Verstappen was not a practical man.

Despite telling him you would meet him at the address you had sent him, he’d shown up to your apartment just before you were set to leave. Standing in the lobby of your apartment complex, a large bouquet of flowers resting in his arms. You could have sworn you’d never seen Max outside of jeans and a Red Bull polo shirt; it was refreshing to see him in crisp shirt and cargo trousers.

“You didn’t have to dress up.” You mumble, looking down to your own outfit; a soft summer dress seemed positively ordinary; hair loose around your shoulders. It was just a scan, after all. It wasn’t as if the two of you would be going on a date; you hated the man stood in front of you. However, a smile is soon nestled on your face when the man offers you the bundle of flowers, offering a warm grin alongside them.

“You look nice.” Max nods, motioning towards the exit of the complex. His car was parked directly outside, as in order to avoid the press whom would undoubtedly be looking for the drivers in Monaco. The flowers decorated your arms, carefully resting them on your lap before adjusting your seatbelt. “Do you need anything?” He looks back to the complex, concerned if you had forgotten something.

“I just need the bathroom.” You mention half-heartedly. Max’s eyes widen, ready to step out of the car and lead you back into the apartment. “Oh-“ You cut yourself off, having to explain the situation. “No, I need a full bladder for the scan, so they can see the baby.” The man nods in understanding, sitting himself in the driver’s seat, looking both ways before beginning to start the route towards clinic.

The car ride between the two of you was unusually peaceful; Max made light conversation, filling you in on the antics of the paddock from that weekend. You can’t hold back the laugh from your lips when he mentions Christian Horner slipping off his high seat when excitedly jumping to his feet. You missed the paddock; you missed the feeling of racing; you especially missed the banter between your friends. You’d have to return, sooner rather than later.

When the two of you pulled into the car park, Max was quick to step out of his seat, opening the car door for you. You offer him a quiet thanks before making your way into the building, side by side. The nurse you had previously seen gives you a smile, delighted to finally see the father of the baby alongside you.

Max had silently followed you into the room; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, quite the opposite. The man was taking in every piece of information that was being given, silent notes in his mind on each aspect. He’d keep the baby safe; he’d keep you safe, too. Ever now the gentlemen, he helps you to lie down on the seat, your bumped stomach revealed through lifting the skirt of your summer dress.

He can’t help but notice the soft underwear decorating your lower half. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked, after all. That’s how you had got here in the first place. His thoughts are soon side-tracked when seeing you wince from the coldness of the jelly and the cramp of the scanning machine. Max’s hand trails, feeling your own resting aside your body. He can’t help but hold onto it, trying to offer you some sort of comfort. Maybe it’s the sudden nerves, but your hand grabs back just as tightly, feeling his thumb rub carefully against your knuckles.

“You okay?” He mumbles, trying to keep a low profile from the nurse. You can only nod, comforted in the way your…rival…was now holding your hand so preciously.

“Now…” The nurse begins. “I wanted to check with you both, you mentioned wanting to find out the gender of your child.” Her question is directed towards you, Max’s eyes darting between the two women in the room. “Of course, if dad doesn’t want to know, he can leave-“

“Oh, no.” Max interrupts, mind racing at a thousand thoughts per minute. “I’d…I want to know too.” He agrees, nodding in synch with you.

“Well, congratulations. You’re having a beautiful baby girl.” The nurse confirms, turning around the screen to you both. The undefinable shape you had seen mere weeks ago had developed, becoming a more shaped being. You could see the baby forming, eyes widening in shock. Your eyes glanced over to Max, his grip tightening on your palm.

You didn’t miss the glossed tears in his eyes. He knew in that very moment that this baby, this moment was…everything to him.

2nd May, 158 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Overnight, Max Verstappen had truly wiggled his way into your inner circle. The two of you had barely said ten civilised words to one another since meeting all those years ago. Now? There was a string of texts almost every morning, asking how you were feeling, to let him know if you needed anything. You had truly begun to push the limits of his patience. The man had showed up your doorstep one morning with a bag of cinnamon pretzels after hearing your cries down the telephone line.

Right now, the two of you were basking in the bliss of your little bundle of joy; there were still a lot of heavy conversations to come, but the first wave of nerves had passed, you were now simply excited to meet the little being growing in your stomach.

The two of you had developed a successful co-parenting system to work your way through the pregnancy; Max had engrossed himself in endless copies of baby books. Daniel had found him one afternoon in his driving room, highlighting a textbook on what the main causes of a baby crying could be. He’d started to keep a calendar of every appointment that he’d attend alongside you, notes on the dates that you’re feeling a particular sickness or swelling. If you won’t bring it up with a doctor, he would.

Max tries to convince himself it’s to keep his baby safe; of course, you need to remain healthy too, but he doesn’t care about you, not in that sense.

It isn’t until he receives a phone call from you one afternoon, pleading for him to come and collect you from a friend’s house; your car had broken down and your Uber application wouldn’t seem to find you a driver that wasn’t half an hour away. Max had shown up at the doorstep ten minutes later, knocking on the door to signal your arrival. When there was no answer, he took his own incitive to investigate the back garden, hearing the light sound of music, chattering adults and giggling children.

The garden is in full swing; you hadn’t mentioned it was a party; an extravagant one at that. He’s taken aback by the decorations, a giant bounce house and the most enormous birthday cake he had ever seen.

His heart almost stops when he sees you.

You, hair framing your face beautifully, a pale pink dress hugging you in the most delicious way. Your attention is focused to the toddler on your hip, your godson. How on earth could you think you were not ready for this? You pulled faces at the young being his giggles screaming through the air. Max had always thought you were pretty, but now he could only see you as a goddess.

He’s convinced himself, after all. He doesn’t care for you. He worships you.

9th June, 196 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“I think we should move in together.”

Max’s attention is drawn up from his phone. Christian and himself had been texting backwards and forwards for the past few days; the driver was trying to rework his schedule so he could at least be with you for a week after the birth. It was getting closer; the world now knew of your pregnancy, the media torn between harsh critics and positive glows.

What they didn’t know was the father of the child was your sworn enemy.

Maybe, enemy was a word you didn’t wish to use anymore. A friend didn’t seem right, either. A mix of late-night conversations, spooning ice cream to one another whilst binging a new Netflix series and picking out a bundle of pink pyjamas had drawn the two of you into an undefinable relationship.

“You know…” You continue. “I want…her to have both her parents about. I don’t want her to grow up in a broken household.” It was true; you’d seen how it could affect people, especially the man who was sat by your side. He understood, completely and utterly. After what he had been through, he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his own flesh and blood. His own baby.

“I missed my mother…a lot when I was younger.” He referenced his parents’ separation, how he had barely seen his mother and sister whilst growing up. “I wouldn’t want that for her.” Max rests a hand on your stomach, a soft smile on his face when he looks at you. Even with no makeup, a hoodie which was way too big for you, you were still positively glowing. “Why don’t we have a look tomorrow? Find somewhere around here with enough space for us all.”

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine, but you’re painting the nursery.” You mumble in response. A small laugh emits from both of your lips. However, yours is soon replaced with a sharp wince, a rumble in your stomach. Max, whom still had a hand resting on the bump immediately stops laughing, both of your eye’s meeting in shock.

“Was that-” He cuts himself off when he feels the movement again. It’s a kick. The baby is kicking.

“She’s awake!” You laugh, placing your hand carefully across Max’s. You gently guide it across your stomach, tracing the sharp movement in your stomach. “We must have woken her up. Sorry sweet pea.” You direct the last part of your sentence to the baby in your stomach.

Max gently removes his hand from your stomach, his head tiling closer to your bump. The baby can hear him. She’s in there, nestled and warm, awaiting her welcome into the world.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He mumbles, voice thick from holding back heavy tears. “It’s your Papa.”

He doesn’t miss the small laugh from you, entirely entertained by this whole situation.

“I know I can’t see you yet, but you’re the most beautiful girl I could ever ask for. Just like your mother.” He finishes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. Softly, he lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your temple, heads resting gently against one another as the next episode of your series began to play.

29th June, 216 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Spa-Francorchamps was the last race on the calendar before the summer break. It was also the last time you would be able to be in the paddock without a baby strapped to your side.

It had been magical, when walking into the Mercedes garage. Cheers had erupted upon seeing their golden girl return to the paddock. Lewis had barely been able to contain himself, pulling you into the tightest hug which could be imagined. Toto had almost started crying, kissing the top of your head and resting a hand on your stomach, declaring the baby as his unborn prodigy.

There had been no end of drivers coming to meet you, too. Charles and Carlos had declared how much they had missed having you around, presenting you with a baby blanket and beanie. Your heart had melted when they explained their mothers had taught them how to knit, both wanting to make a present for you, stitched with love. You’d almost started crying, hormones were in full swing in the third trimester, kissing both on the cheek and thanking them endlessly.

Yuki had walked up to you that afternoon too, presenting a small Tupperware box. He had noticed you’d completely rejected fish, and most of all sushi, so instead had made you a batch which was pregnancy safe. The two of you had tried a piece there and then, declaring it as quite possibly the best thing your tastebuds had found since pregnancy had altered your tastebuds.

Daniel had come to find you, telling you to meet him in his garage, that he had a surprise for you both. Both, meaning you’d probably have to find Max, too.

His garage was only a short walk from where you’d been set up in the Mercedes camp. You’d began to make your way over there, hoping you’d bump into the father of your child on the way. You’d last seen Max that morning, having driven you to the paddock himself. He’d become…fiercely caring since the evening of feeling the baby kick. He’d slept in your bed that night, you are resting against his chest, a form of comfort in the third trimester.

What you hadn’t expected to see, as you turned the corner, was a beautiful girl, hands resting on Max’s waist, her eyes sparkling, lips moving. You couldn’t see Max’s face, his cap hiding any expression, but your heart knew that he’d be smirking, basking in the attention.

Loving the attention of a beautiful girl, one that wasn’t pregnant with his child.

You couldn’t…understand why you had suddenly cared so much about who he was interacting with. When you’d first started this whole…adventure, he’d still been seen in clubs, leaving with different women on his arm every weekend. You’d hit the second trimester; his party and escapades had stopped, his sole attention of women being on you.

Maybe that was it. You’d grown to like the attention of Max. Whether it was as the father of your child or…something else.

Your hormones were truly beginning to overtake you, feeling tears trickling out of your water line. You had to look away at that moment, you couldn’t keep looking at the events unfolding in front of you. Your mind traces back to that morning in Christian Horner’s office, how Max had turned pale, not wanting to be burdened with the birth of his child.

‘I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.’

Maybe he wasn’t. But you were ready to be a mother.

8th August, 255 days since what should have been the-

You couldn’t handle this.

The pain was beginning to seethe through your stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was all wrong, it was happening too quickly.

Since the incident at the paddock, you’d been radio silent towards Max. He wasn’t too sure of how it had come to be. All he had known was you’d taken yourself home from Spa, telling him that you’d needed to fly home to be with your parents before the birth.

One day without a phone call was okay, he suspected it would be due to the time zones. Two was…a little odd. After three, he was frantically packing a suitcase, trying to get hold of anybody who would possibly know your parents’ address. He’d resulted to finding your teammates phone number. After he was met with a string of questions, asking how on earth he had gotten hold of his phone number. When Max had explained you had gone off the grid, Lewis had simply scoffed.

Of course, Lewis had known what had happened. He’d seen you return to grab your bag, eyes glassy as you offered the team a quick goodbye, promising to bring the baby to meet them all as soon as possible.

The driver had been the one to guide you back through the paddock. Despite not racing together for almost six months, he still had your mannerisms sketched into his mind. Eventually, you’d confided in your closest friend, letting the tears fall freely as he guided you back to your Uber, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would be there if you needed anything, if there were any more thoughts or issues.

He had no issue telling Max his thoughts over the telephone. Despite Max’s answers, there was no excuse. ‘You were hormonal. How did he think you felt when seeing Max with another woman, even if it was innocent, she didn’t seem to be in that stance.’

That was the case. It was an ex-girlfriend, she’d been in the paddock that afternoon, seeking out the world champion in an advancement to get them back together. Max had no intention of going there, not when he was during finding something, some gesture to show you of his advancing feelings over the past few months. That was why he had asked Daniel to get you to his garage. He would be able to surprise you, tell you how he was really feeling, how he loved you, and not just for being the mother of his child.

After copious amounts of pleading, Lewis had eventually sent over the address, giving Max a dire warning as to if he upset you again.

The flight to your home had been fast. He couldn’t thank his assistant enough, getting a hire car set for the moment he stepped out of the airport. However, turning up at your home to find your father, arms folded, and eyebrows raised at Max’s sudden appearance. Your father barely said two words, just told Max you had gone into labour.

Max’s blood had run cold upon that realisation. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t there to hold your hand when the pain started, to hold your hair up and get some coolness to your overheating skin. He wasn’t there. Not for his little girl, and not for her mother. Being a Formula One driver in that evening was the most helpful thing in his opinion, arriving at the hospital in record time.

Car thrown carelessly into a parking spot, he’d sprinted into the reception, a nurse resting a hand on his arm when seeing the pure shock registered on his face. He couldn’t get any words out properly, simply repeating your name, that he was the father of your child. He wanted to see you, he wanted to see his baby.

The nurse nodded, motioning for Max to follow him down a corridor. He didn’t like the coldness of the building. You probably felt so alone. Every time he had come with you to a clinic appointment, he’d notice the change in your demeanour, how you felt uncomfortable. You should have opted for a home birth; you would have been calmer. Safer.

Max eventually reached your hospital room, heart breaking at the sounds from the other side of the door. You were in pain. That much was obvious as he opened the door. Your mother wasn’t present. He knew your stubbornness, knowing that you would have wanted to do this without her. Maybe, you’d want to do this without him, too.

His train of thought was interrupted, hearing a voice he had missed oh-so-much for the past three days.

“Max.” You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. The gas wasn’t working, the epidural hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to feel ever piece of this.

The man sprang into action; in an instant, his jacket was removed, revealing his soft t-shirt and trackpants. A seat was pulled up to the head of your bed, Max sitting himself down, one hand running across the top of your head, the other arm resting by your hands, letting you grip into him as deeply as you needed to.

“Shh. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles. Soft words of Dutch come from his lips; you’re too far gone to understand his words in English, let alone his native language.

“You- why did you come?” You sob, feeling another contraction wash over your stomach. You can’t help but sob out, overwhelmed by the physical pain of the baby, the emotional pain of Max after seeing him in the paddock with that girl.

“I couldn’t leave the love of my life to meet our baby girl alone, could I?” He responds, leaning upwards to press a soft kiss to your cheek. He can taste the salt from your tears. He swore there and then, you’d never cry again. Not if he was around. You’d stay with him in the paddock, you and his baby girl. He’d make you laugh at every available opportunity. He’d shower you both in gifts; he’d give his girls everything they’d desire. If one day you decided to return to racing, he’d retire there and then to let you peruse his dream.

“Okay, okay. We need to push.” The midwife insists, seeing the pain flush over your cheeks. Max is there, clasping your hands, running a palm across your cheek, promising that oh-so-soon, your baby girl would be here, she would be in your arms, you would be complete.

There’s a sharp scream from you, and then the tiniest cries from the end of the bed.

She was here. Bloody, high pitch screams fill the room as the baby is placed onto your chest.

A wave of relief flushes over you, lying back into the cushions, sobbing in hysteria; your baby girl had been welcomed into the world. Max this time, can’t hold back his own tears, aiding the midwife in cutting the chord, eyes in awe as he watched the midwife gently rub a cloth against her soft skin.

“She’s here.” You whisper, the midwife aiding you in wrapping your daughter in a pink blanket, her wails cooling down, eyes blinking up to her mother. The blue eyes, identical to those of her father.

Her father in question had sat back in his chair, eyes transfixed on the bundle in your arms. What he isn’t expecting is for you to motion your own arms towards him, letting the man cradle his daughter. It’s so…natural. Your heart fills with adoration; how you could ever believe you hated this man was beyond you.

Eventually, the baby is placed into the cradle, deep in slumber. Max hasn’t moved from your side, one arm around your back, both of you transfixed onto the peacefully sleeping child.

“She’s here.” Max repeats for the hundredth time, eyes still focused on the sweet girl. His head turns to you, there’s no better time to say it. “I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not telling you how much I care about you.” He murmurs, hand finding yours, clasping them together.

“Yeah?” You tease, running your free hand through his soft hair, feeling his head press into your touch. His touch subsides, leaning in ever so gently, pressing his lips to your own. It’s soft, it’s unexpected, but it feels so, so right. It’s only interrupted with the soft cries from your baby once again.

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Max laughs, his moment being disrupted by the baby. You can only laugh as he stands up, scooping up the baby into his gentle grasp.

9th August, 1:06am. This was the happiest day of your life.

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f1version · 11 months

Text

LIGHTNING MCUTE ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader (she/her)

summary: You are still obsessed with Charles as Lightning Mcqueen, Charles is still obsessed with you. Here’s how that goes.

note: this is so chaotic, sometimes full crack and sometimes pure fluff

part two of the life is a highway series ★ next part

joris__trouche’s insta story

yourusername’s insta story

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 835,826

yourusername baby photo dump ❤️🩵

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landonorris the pics were not loading and I THOUGHT YOU HAD A BABY?????

yourusername WTF LANDO

charles_leclerc YEAH WTF LANDO I WISH

yourusername CHARLES DON’T PUSH HIM

yourusername’s insta story

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,245,018

charles_leclerc Got a new car before Barcelona! ⚡️

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pierregasly pretty cool charles

landonorris 💍💍💍????

charles_leclerc Please stop

carlossainz55 CABRÓN‼️

yourusername It was the best day of my life

yourusername Family car ✅

yourusername’s insta story

joris__trouche’s insta story

yourusername • Barcelona, Spain

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 976,825 others

yourusername Ferrari red? This is KACHOW-red (sorry scuderiaferrari)

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scuderiaferrari Ferrari red? Who is that? I just know KACHOW-red! ❤️

charles_leclerc KACHOW-ingly cute

yourusername in the 5 years of our relationship, that is the best thing you have ever said to me.

charles_leclerc it’s not but whatever you say mon amour

carlossainz55 How has Ferrari not banned you?

yourusername extortion.

yourusername’s insta story

INTERVIEW — SPANISH GP

charles_leclerc and yourusername

Like by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari and 2,752,917 others

charles_leclerc Forever ❤️

tagged. yourusername, joris__trouche

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yourusername Forever 🩵🩵🩵

yourusername guys the box WAS the lightning mcqueen one, just saying

charles_leclerc AND it was custom

yourusername And it was custom, with our names engraved on the inside (he’s very proud of it)

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shaarlslec · 2 years

Text

lucky charm

part 2 here lovelies

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

words: 8500

warnings: bit angst i guess? but not so much, mentions of pregnancies, injuries (broken bones), hospitals;

requested: yes

masterlist

Charles Leclerc finds his son's paediatrician a little bit too pretty not to ask her on a date right before the Monaco GP.

You have met Xavier Leclerc a couple of times already in the past two years since you got your new job in Monaco, and you adored that little ten-year-old boy way too much to not treat him extra-special with double candies when he left your cabinet and sometimes rare pieces of Lego to add to his collection.

He was one of the brightest kids you had chance to meet during your activity and somehow Xavier managed to always lift your mood and give you something to smile about when he visited for his monthly check-up with his nanny Lola who always seemed to be in a hurry.

“So, we are finished right?” She asked as she took her bag from the chair with a quick snatch watching you goofing around with Xavier to trick him in taking a very unpleasant coughing syrup.

You nodded, “Almost.” You spoke, “Busy schedule today at karting, Xavier?” You whispered to the kid now crooking in front of you before sticking out his tongue as he nodded ‘yes’ to your question.

“Disgusting.” The boy simply spoke, pretending to neat his tongue with one of his palms, “Never again miss, please.” Xavier then added with his tongue pinched in between his fingers, “What have I done to deserve that? Have I ever wronged you with something miss?” Xavier continued, mumbling half of his words while the others were barely understandable.

You chuckled, “Well, you slept with your hair wet and window open in the middle of autumn, that is what you did to deserve coughing syrup. Be sure to not go to sleep with your hair wet next time to avoid this taste that you seem to love too much, shall I pack one for you to take home?” You inquired, “Go on now, the track is waiting for its biggest Monegasque star.” You gently spoke, slightly patting the boy’s light brunette hair, “Be safe, drive prudently.” You warned him as you pointed a finger towards the patient’s face.

“You really do not watch Formula 1 at all, don’t you?” Xavier sighed, “There is no such as thing as driving prudently on the track! You must be the fastest, the quickest of them all, the smartest amongst the bunch, not the most prudent nerd out there.” He explained watching your confused face, “Do you think my father won four championships by driving prudently?”

You laughed again as you nodded, “Ok, ok.” You spoke, “I will not argue with you on your field, but make sure not to catch a cold therefore you will not be able to drive either prudently nor dangerously or however your father drove to win those four championships you brag about since the day I met you.” You added, already handing Xavier two of his favorite cherry lollipops while Lola was not paying attention as she was too focused on her phone now rather than you two.

Xavier threw you a short wink, you held back your laugh and covered your mouth with one of your hands as the little boy was so awful at winking and you would not have wanted to shatter the confidence of a ten-year-old. You just wondered where he got that move from, perhaps the father?

“I am bragging because you still refuse to watch Formula 1 and it is the greatest thing that was ever invented on this whole world!” Xavier cried as he stuffed the lollipops in the back pockets of his jeans, “Next time I am going to teach you all about Form-”

“Are you two done?” Lola interrupted as she forcefully grabbed the lock to press down, “Your father just texted me that he will arrive to pick you up in a minute, you are already late for the practice because your doctor likes to chit-chat while consulting you it seems.” She bitterly spoke, making your eyes go up to your brain causing a laugh from Xavier watching you.

Your focus switched from the child in front of you to the lady who was not even daring to look you in the eyes as she spoke ill of you, “She is just jealous because you like me more than her.” You spoke, proudly pretending to dust your shoulders with a cockily lifted right brow.

Lola and Xavier left your office after a warm hug from the little man and a dreadful glare from Lola.

You watched both then exiting the building by glaring outside the window where you spotted the famous black car with the red strip parked right at the front of the building. The exact blueprint of Xavier Leclerc jumped out with arms wide opened to welcome your patient.

You were right from the start amazed by how alike they look in real life, you have only seen the two of them together in pictures. You smiled as you watched Xavier excitingly welcoming the arms of his father and tightening his grip around the man’s neck. They snuggled for a good while, and it made your heart melt right away.

It was for the very first time when you saw Charles in flesh and bones, although from distance. And yet, you felt like you knew everything about the man from his child. Xavier talked non-stop about his father and how much of a hero Charles was for him.

You knew exactly when Charles won all his championships although never had watched a Formula 1 race from start to finish before. You also knew the names of all other drivers on the gird and how the cars are named depending on the season amongst more known and unknown facts about motorsport that Xavier gathered.

Xavier was a know-it-all at just ten years old and now you were watching the man who taught him all Xavier knew. You could not help yourself but smile, and by doing so you were caught in act.

Xavier saw you from above watching them back and was no hesitant but enthusiastically wave you goodbye from Charles arms. You waved back to him in the same chaotic manner to make him laugh.

Your daily goal was for all your patients leave with a smile from your office and something about Xavier smiling back at you made you happier than with any other patient that stepped in your office. You were aware of the type of life the little boy had, and maybe that was why you gave him more of your care, more of your attention, more of your candies and more of your time.

It was only him and Lola for most of the times when he was not racing in karting competitions or going to practice where his father visited. Charles Leclerc was very much a present parent but being a in such an exhausting sport was not allowing him to play the father card so often. Charles tried; Xavier always made you let know that his father was indeed trying to be there for him. And yet, it has been two years since Lola bought him to the doctor instead of Charles.

You even met Xavier’s mother twice rather than his father who had custody of the child. Charlotte wanted to know who Xavier’s new pediatrician was two years ago and she bought him in during the first two consultations. After the first two times she stopped coming and left Xavier all alone with that annoying nanny of his.

“Was your mommy busy today?” You had asked him then, watching the little man’s eyes being way too gloomy for an eight-year-old.

Xavier nodded, “Yes, my brother is new. She told me that she must take care of him more now.” He spoke, and you could feel nothing but sadness coming from the statement of the little man.

You nodded, and that is when you understood that Xavier’s mother slowly was vanishing from the boy’s life as she was building another family with another man. You knew from Xavier’s file that his parents were divorced, but you had no idea about stepbrothers until then. Since that day, you heard Xavier rarely mentioning Charlotte during the appointments, and briefly around his birthday or holidays. After a while, she seemed to completely vanish from Charles and Xavier’s lives while trying to live her new one apart from the two boys. You felt sorry for him and that was because Xavier very much reminded you of how lonely you felt at his age too.

You were happy to give him a show from time to time to make him laugh, the little boy deserved the laughs.

“Oh look there dad, she is her!” Xavier yelled as he waved back to you, “Isn’t she pretty?” The boy asked watching Charles glaring at you to throw in a little wave as well.

Your smile remined the same as you reciprocated Charles’s wave, “Fuck, he is even more handsome than in pictures.” You muttered for yourself, locking eyes with the man from the distance.

Fuck indeed, Charles was indeed even more handsome in real life even from high above. Dressed casually in all black and with a pair of large driving sunglasses funnily sitting on the bridge of his nose, Charles Leclerc sueded you right away. You knew that will happen, you had quite a weakness for brunette guys with all-time ruffled hair and light green eyes that can easily pass as Monegasque princes. You clearly saw that Xavier’s’ father checked all the boxes. You shook your head. No, no, hell no. You were not getting hooked on one of your patient’s parents. You awkwardly smiled one more time, waved goodbye again to both, and then went back to your computer where all you did was to search for Leclerc’s name. You had plenty of time to go down the rabbit hole of pictures with the Monegasque driver as your next appointment was in twenty minutes.

All you knew about him came from his son’s mouth, and all the words were nothing but praises. You told yourself that there had to be something suspicious about him, no one you knew was that good, handsome, and successful at the same time. You were doing now exactly what you did with all the men that dared to cross in your life – searched for a reason not to like them more that you should have. After all, no one could have ever compared with your ex-husband. Right?

“Oh, you were right. She is very pretty.” Charles replied as he put Xavier down, “Way too pretty, maybe I should make an appointment too?” He then added, fully focusing on you now pretending to work on the computer and regretting to have not bought nor taken Xavier earlier from the doctor’s appointment, “What did the pretty lady said, what we are going to do about that little cough of yours?” He then asked, getting on one of his knees so he can be at Xavier’s eye-level to pinch the boy’s nose, “Have I or have I not told you to not go to sleep without drying your hair?” Charles scolded his son, gently patting the boy’s wind-swept hair.

Xavier slightly rolled his eyes, “You did, yes.”

Charles chuckled hearing his child’s wiping tone, “Where did you learn to roll your eyes young man?”

Xavier pointed up at you, “From the pretty lady.”

Charles looked up at you for one last time that afternoon, “From the pretty lady, huh?”

Hours passed and it was your time to get off from your shift. You were more than pleased to close the office and go back in your tiny Monegasque apartment to eat junk food and agonize about being lonely again on a Friday evening although refusing anyone asking you out. You closed your laptop as the last thing you did before getting out. The tabs containing Leclerc’s name were still on. You were even more suspicious now that you have not found any dirt on him on the internet.

“Suspish.” You mumbled as you squeezed your eyes in the dim lights of the room, “No one is that perfect.” You spoke to yourself as you approached the exit only to be taken aback by the door opening in front of you.

“Shit.” You swore with your hand at your chest as you saw one of your colleague’s faces meters from yours, “You scared the shit out of me.” You chuckled, “What’s happening? What’s burning?”

“One of your patients just arrived at the ER.” The other doctor spoke, watching you already hurrying towards the ER room without even locking your office’s door.

“Who?” You aggravated spoke, hurrying your steps into a run already at the end of the hall.

“Leclerc. Broken arm, nothing too serious. And yet, the child is too scared and has called for you.”

You ran straight to the ER room right after you heard the name. You went there in time as they were taking both Charles and Xavier for the latter to have an X-Ray of what seemed a broken arm.

“I am scooping in.” You spoke as you went through the almost close door of your colleague’s office for the X-Ray, “Xavier is my patient.” You explained as you saw the confusion on the face of your colleague, gently touching the boy’s wet cheeks with two of your fingers as you looked down at him before looking up at his father, “Hello there, little champ,” You spoke with your eyes still on Charles as you got down on both of your knees to genteelly take Xavier’s face into your hands, “My colleague here needs to take a look at your arm and then I am going to help him fix it, alright?” You calmly spoke as you watched the boy’s hot tears running down his cheeks, “I will punch him straight in the face if it hurts, okay?” You nervously chuckled to calm the boy down.

Xavier nodded in between the sobs, the little man wanted to show you that he is a tough one and an X-Ray was not going to frighten him, “Good boy.” You paused, slightly touching Xavier’s hair before Charles carefully lifted him up from the ground.

You looked at his father as he handed Xavier to your colleague who took him in the X-Ray room. Charles looked terrified, even more alarmed than Xavier. The palest face of a man you have ever seen glare at you with pink-washed tetchy lips and wide-horrid eyes, “It is my fault.” Charles then muttered, covering his forehead with one of his sweaty palms, “It is all my fault. I encouraged him to push harder on the last lap in practice and he crashed with one of his mates on the circuit, the kart went upside down and the medic was not on there today and I –”

You gently touched the man shoulder to calm him down as well, Charles’ words were spoken in a rapid fire and there was only guilt felt in the missile of the mumbled speech, “It is not your fault, children fall and get hurt when they play.” You assured him as you patted your hand, “It can be just a light fracture, Xavier is going to be okay.” You added, watching Charles glaring at your arm at it departed from him.

Xavier was indeed more than fine after you helped your college plastered the child’s broken arm. The tears stopped from running, and Charles’ cheeks regained their rosiness once the man saw his son talking to you instead of crying.

“Remember when you told me this morning that you are going to teach me everything about Formula 1? Go.” You spoke, trying to keep Xavier’s mind out of the fact that you were in the process of plastering his arm.

Xavier’s eyes widened in excitement, “Dad, can you believe that she is staying in Monaco and has not been to even one Formula 1 race?!”

Charles’ eyes widened in the same exact way but in confusion rather than excitement, “Never?”

You nodded, “It is only my third year here, how many I have missed then?”

Both Charles and Xavier replied at the same time, “Two, but it is happening next weekend again.”

“You cannot miss this one miss.” Xavier pleaded, “It is our home race, my dad has the biggest chances in winning.”

Charles’ head titled, “Not sure about that, you know how the Monaco curse go.”

“Monaco curse?” You interestingly inquire.

This is where the discussion started. Xavier explained you what the Monaco curse meant for Charles and how his father missed his first chances to win their home race.

They talked to you about races until the child’s arm was secured in the cast and many minutes after that. You sat next to Charles on the chairs in front of Xavier’s bed while the boy was excitingly talking about his father entire carrier since the beginning with little add-ons from Charles who was glancing from you time to time to see if you were getting bored of the cars talk. And yet, the entire time you shown nothing but enthusiasm and excitement, questioning the little champ more and more as the discussion evolved.

Xavier held an entire monologue about his hopes and dreams and how he wanted to be just as great as Charles up until the moment he felt asleep whilst talking.

Your college was long gone by now and you were now left in the office with a heavily asleep Xavier and an extremely tired Charles. Both Leclercs, both car crazes.

“I think we should let him sleep for a while in this bed if it is alright for you, lifting him up might woke him.” Charles whispered to you leaning in, “Can I bring you something to drink?”

You nodded in the man’s direction being totally unaware of how close you two were, “Yeah, I could use a drink. I will come with you though, show you the fancy kitchen for the staff.” You spoke as you rose from the seat taking a glance at the asleep Leclerc after eyeing the worried one, “It is okay, I will have somebody watch over him and call me if he wakes up.” You softly spoke, “Come on now, let’s get you something to eat. You look like you need it.” You added, handing Leclerc’s your hand for support.

Leclerc took it and you both exited the office on your way to the kitchen. You let go of the man’s hand right when you spotted the first person outside the office. Being seen with a celebrity in the hospital holding hands was the last thing you wanted. Nevertheless, Charles would have loved for your hand to stay into his longer than just for support.

“Thank you for today.” Charles spoke as he was indulging some jellybeans found in one of the drawers, “You said fancy kitchen, right?” The man spoke as he was basically devouring the whole bag of jelly-colored bears.

You chuckled, “Trust me, they are better than the ones in the automatic machines on the hall.” You lied, resting your back on the kitchen counter, and stealing one of the bears from the man’s hand where he gathered them all to chug, “You do not have to thank me, Xavier is my patient.”

“I know, but you calmed him there better than me. I think he even forgot about his broken arm for a minute there.” Charles spoke, “Thank you again.”

You smiled back at him, “That child adores you.”

“I adore him too.” Charles bittersweetly smiled, “I just wish I knew how to calm him down; I feel like I am losing all control when he gets hurt and I cannot stand a chance of gaining it back when I see him cry.” He then continued, taking your example, and resting his back on the counter in front of you to be fully in your sight and make you blush when the man’s glare lifted from the bag of jellybeans on you.

You slightly chuckled, “Most fathers I know act the same, I think you will learn how to do it with time.” You spoke, hopping on the kitchen counter now so your legs childishly swing in front of him.

“Yeah, what a hell of a father am I? Pushing him to get hurt?” Charles spoke after what seemed to be the heaviest sigh in the world, “I should have encouraged him to take another path, especially since I knew everything this one leads to.”

You titled your head as you chuckled, and Charles swore right then and there that that was the cutest tilt of heads he had ever seen when a couple strings of your hair touched your shoulder. It shook him, nothing that little ever moved him from a woman. Charles gulped, and that is when he understood perfectly why Xavier always called you “pretty lady” instead of your name.

“Seeing how much he basically worships you; I think that even if you were to oppose to his pleadings of becoming a racing driver, Xavier would have found his tiny witty ways in becoming one without your approval.” You spoke, your words accompanied by your chuckles being everything the man standing in front of you desired in that very moment to find comfort in that fancy kitchen hospital.

“Do you have kids?” Charles suddenly asked, watching you from head to toes for his glare to stop on your clasped hands resting on your lap. There was no ring, no nothing, therefore he quickly retracted the question with an embarrassed tone, “I am sorry, it just came out of nowhere and the least thing I want is to seem to curi-”

“It is okay.” You smiled at him, spearing him of the embarrassment to formulate a good excuse, “I do not, and yes I am not married.” You chuckled, lifting your hand up in the air for Charles to better notice the absence of any ring as you caught him staring, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Charles immediately nodded, oh how much he adored secrets especially the ones coming from pretty girls with whom he was alone at night, “Sure, I will not tell a soul.” He then replied, lips going in a straight line.

You took a short breath before talking, “I never wanted kids my own. Ironic, right? I love being a pediatrician and I truly and utterly adore kids, but I never thought about myself as being a good mother and a couple of years ago someone got me thinking otherwise, but when we tried to have children, I found out that I cannot get pregnant.”

Charles carefully listened before replying. You were taken aback by your own words, you barely talked about this with anyone since your break-up, why were you talking about something that personal with a man you just met? You shook your head, “I am sorry, I do not know why I—”

“It is okay.” Charles mimicked you, taking two steps forward to match the spot at your right with his back, “That is why there is no ring on that?” Charles asked, gently caressing your left right finger with the tip of his own. Daring, you needed to give him that.

You nodded and yet not dared to move your hand which was right next to Charles, “What about you?” You asked him, “Xavier rarely mentions his mother, and my judgement tells me that he misses her lots.”

Charles took a short breath in as well, now crossing both of his arms at his chest after leaving an invisible mark on your finger with his quick passing, “We got married really young, and we wanted too much in too little time.” Charles confessed with his eyes fixed on the wall as if he was not brave enough yet to be vulnerable in your eyes, “You seem to know the good parts of being a race driver from my son, I never mentioned to him the bad ones yet.” He then added, voce getting softer as he talked and you getting sueded by it as Charles kept going, “I was younger and hungrier after the wins rather than being home, and now I am trying to not do that anymore and to focus on what was left from my first try of building a family of my own.” Charles spoke, a shadow of a smile lingering on his face, “Back to your question, we divorced five years ago and since then I really cannot think of myself ever wanting to love again in the same way.”

You nodded in full understatement of the man’s last statement, “Totally agree. Adult human relationships are awful.” You slightly groaned, “Have you tried dating in your late twenties when everyone is as fucked-up as they can be from past relationships?”

Charles chuckled, “I am at the beginning of my thirties and the last time I was on a date was more than a decade ago.” Charles confessed in a humorous tone, “Xavier is all I need anyways.” The man added, switching the glare from the wall right back at you, “Am I too fucked-up for thinking like this?”

You declined with a nod, “I do not think so. And like I said, we are all fucked-up from past relationships.” You spoke, watching him watch you back with tiny sparks of lightning inside the greenish irises of the man.

It was for the first time in forever when your knees went soft by a glare of a stranger in a room with dimmed hospital lights, and it was for the very first time too for Charles to look at someone and sense that shaky trembling feeling inside his aching chest that was later understood as emotion.

If you two were to be in a movie, that would have been the perfect timing on an unexpected set for the main kiss of the story that leaves the audience in a cinema gasping. And yet you were not set in a movie, you were two strangers in the real world who found unknown confront in the presence of the other. The man standing inches from you was nothing but your patient’s father, and you were nothing but a pretty lady that plastered his son’s arm that evening. Both of you gulped almost at the same time when you were the first one to break the eye-contact as the tension became too much to handle and instead of kissing him, you decided to light up the mood with a tease.

“I thought that being a fourth time world champion would at least bring you some chicks.” You playfully spoke, legs still lightly swinging.

Charles erupted in a loud laugh, “I thought that being a smart, young and beautiful woman would at least bring you some men in Monaco since you moved.” Charles added, “We love smart, young and beautiful women here.”

You huffed, “Yes, you do.” You rolled your eyes, “But only for the sex part.”

Charles chocked as he was taken aback by your blunt statement, “Where are those men? Do you want me to fight them?” He then added, chuckling as you rolled your eyes again as his inquire and figuring out that this was indeed the person from whom Xavier learned the trick.

“They probably worship you too.” You teased, “Oh.” You then suddenly jumped from the counter as you read the text on your buzzing phone, “Xavier is up.”

You have not heard about Xavier nor Charles for the next couple of days after they left the building. You searched for the latter online, you just could not get it out of your head how easy was for you to talk to him back in the kitchen. The fact that Charles was insanely handsome, smart, successful, and rich were such good bonuses to the sense of comfort he made you feel. And yet, the I really cannot think of myself ever wanting to love again in the same way part of Charles’ words resounded with you the most. You sighed, of course they did. You two were the same. Since you divorced from that someone you mentioned back in your kitchen conversation with Charles, you never found yourself being interested in someone in the same way and deep down you knew that will be the case until your very last breath. But damn, Xavier’s father was something else.

You carried your days within the week thinking about him and that little touch, whereases Charles was thinking about nothing but your title of head and the way your eyes were searching for the vulnerability in his own. Charles searched for you too, but your all-private accounts were not satisfying enough for him. Therefore, the man called the hospital for your contact knowing that they will give it to him in no time. After all, Charles presented himself only as Xavier’s father and nothing more. That was the mere truth, Charles was nothing more to you than just one of your patient’s fathers. Was he wishing for more? Were you wishing for more?

“You have been all day on your phone, Charles.” The Monegasque’s teammate spoke in that thick Spanish accent as Carlos watched Leclerc nervously tapping the screen of his phone in the middle of the team’s debrief after qualifying, “I cannot cover for you anymore if you keep doing it.” Carlos warned Charles, slightly scolding him by arching one of his eyebrows in the man’s direction, “There better be a girl in there you are texting otherwise-”

Charles nodded, “It is a girl, and I am not texting her yet, I am just stupidly looking at her number on the screen without calling.”

Carlos’ mouth wide opened, “A girl?!” The Spanish spoke in a loud voice, loud enough to echo in the whole room. Hell, loud enough to echo in the whole paddock.

“Boys, do you have something else better to discuss than the tomorrow’s race?” The team-principal spoke eyeing the two high-school children from the back of the class.

“No sir, yes sir.” Both answered at the same time, Charles placing his phone on the table with your number still on it while Carlos cracked one last laugh about this matter before slightly rubbing his shoulder with Charles.

Charles was questioned about you seconds after the meeting stopped, and Carlos’ inquiries and pieces of advice made him a little less anxious in calling you that day.

“Oh come on mate, call the pretty lady instead of just texting, that is for high-schoolers lovebirds and booty time, do you want her to think that you are booty calling her?” Carlos spoke after Charles narrated the whole story of Xavier’s trip to the ER a couple of nights ago and that little tilt of your head that made him completely crazy for days.

“Why is it called booty calling if it is done through texts?” Charles confusingly asked, hands still shaky on the phone.

Carlos rolled his eyes, “You have been out of the game for too long, we do not have time now for the explanation of a booty call and how it is done properly, please go and call the first woman in five years I hear you talking about.” The Spanish encouraged in an excited tone, “Thanks God that it finally happened for you to like someone, I thought you were going to become a monk or something like that.”

Charles laughed, “I might become one, what if she says no to me asking her out?”

Carlos huffed, “Sometimes I really do think you forget that you are Charles Leclerc.”

The almighty Charles Leclerc as Carlos positioned him to give the man enough confidence to call you was still nervous to do so. Charles looked up in the mirror at his home’s bathroom and gave to himself silly words of advice to do the thing – to call you.

“You can do it; you can call her. Come on Charles, she is your son’s pediatrician for God’s sake not some scary sponsor or – oh fuck, she is your son’s beautiful pediatrician though.”

The dance between the actual Charles and the Charles in the mirror lasted for another few minutes until a “fuck it” resounded from the man’s mouth and the shaky hand pressed “call” with its thumb.

Your phone buzzed on your desk office, and you immediately answered without looking at the unknown number, “Hello, you reached Y/N from the pediatrician branch at Sera’s Clinic, how can I be of assistance?” You spoke, giving him the prefabricated answer that you initially give to any customers dialing your work cell.

“Hi, hello. I am Charles.” The nervous man replied at the end of the call, “Leclerc, Charles Leclerc.” He then repeated with a trembling tone, “Xavier’s dad?” He questionably continued, “I do not know if you remember me but I was a couple of nights ago at th-“

You could not help yourself but chuckle at Charles’ ambiguous reply, “I know who you are Charles, Charles Leclerc.” You spoke to stop him from that nervous state of his, “I do remember you; you are quite hard to forget legend says. Is everything alright with Xavier?” You immediately asked after realizing with whom you were talking over the phone.

You were as nervous as Charles, the only difference between the two of you being that you were quite a master of hiding it. Your feet were swinging underneath the chair and your cheeks turned red instantly when you heard the man’s pronunciation of his own full name.

“Oh yes, everything is good with my son. He is a little bit sad that he must miss quite a few practices but otherwise he feels completely fine, and I could not thank you enough for what you did for him.” Charles replied, going from the bathroom to the living room just to sit on the coach as he talked to you because he swore that he could not feel his legs anymore underneath all the pressure.

Charles has not asked somebody out in the past decade or so, always keeping himself away from relationships, pain, and suffering. Xavier was everything Charles wanted to take care of, but now the father felt like he found a piece of a missing puzzle exactly because of his son. Charles knew that there was no way of losing it under the rug as it happens with all missing puzzles of his son’s little games, he needed to ask this little piece of puzzle out and show her a good time.

“I told you already that you do not have to thank me. I was just doing my job.” You spoke smiling, and somehow Charles knew that the corners of your mouth were lifted at the end of the phone call almost as if he could hear it.

“I know – this is not why I called you.” Charles paused, “I just –” He paused again, breathing heavily to gain enough straight for the following words to make their way out of the man’s mouth, “I just really liked the talk we had in the fancy kitchen that night and I was wondering if you would perhaps like to repeat it sometime?” Charles then said in a mouthful as all anxiety was liberated out of the man’s body at once.

Your smile widened as your legs swung so hard that they kicked one of the desk’s pillars, “Oh fuck.” You whimpered in an instinct rubbing your feet immediately and leaving Charles all confused, “Oh no, I do not mean <oh fuck> to you, I just –” You paused, stumbling, and mumbling more for yourself than for Leclerc, “What I mean is yes, I would love to repeat that sometime, but not in the same fancy kitchen.” You teased, “I really need to get out of the hospital for once.”

“I will take you.” Charles spoke with tiny bubbles of sweat on the man’s forehead that were now drying as Charles got the answer wanted from you. Such a beautiful yes, and an even more marvelous “oh fuck”.

“When?” You impatiently replied, “You seem to be a pretty busy man, Charles Leclerc.”

“Right now?” Charles then bluntly asked looking at the clock being almost dinner time, “Do you have any more patients? More importantly, have you had dinner?” The man spoke, already up and going back to the bathroom to hop in the quickest shower ever taken, Charles was already head over heels to see you.

You took a glance at your watch as well, “I do not, but as far as I know you have a race tomorrow.” You spoke in concern as you rose from your seat as well to hurry at your tiny office bathroom to refresh yourself impatient to meet him again, “Will that be alright?” You stopped, fixing your messy hair in the mirror, and searching for your favorite lip balm somewhere hidden in the drawers.

“Race drivers got to eat to be in full-strength tomorrow, right?” Charles spoke, putting you on speaker as he was getting rid of his cloths to throw them on the bathroom floor.

“That is what any medic will recommend, yes.” You spoke, also putting him on speaker for you to better arrange your boobs in the bra.

“I will take the medic advice then and I will also pick her in twenty-minutes.” Charles laughed, and you replied with the same excitement in your tone.

Charles bought the classic flowers bouquet to the date, but what you were not expecting was for it to be as huge as to occupy the whole backseat of the car. You were never into flowers at first dates or ever, but maybe that was because the guys you went to first dates up until then were not Charles Leclerc and they also did not bother to buy you flowers even to special occasions. You nervously said a short “thank you for the flowers” as Charles started the engine of the car. It felt like high school once more time in between the two of you.

Both of you were nervous, and that could be easily sense and seen by the way you shyly stole glances from each other in the car or by the way you kept silent with little to no interventions until you arrived at a restaurant picked by Charles. Everything Charles did up to the point of you sitting in front of each other at the table was exemplary and you could not believe your eyes that there were still men who bought you flowers, opened the doors for you, took your chair as their responsibility and were extremely polite with the waitress giving the fact that everybody knew him in there and as you previously mentioned, everybody worshiped him.

“Ok, tell me.” You suddenly spoke as Charles was browsing through the menu with you suspiciously looking into the man’s direction, “What is your catch?” You asked him, chin supported by your clasped hands as you scanned the man from up to down as much as the table in between the two of you permitted, “You cannot be this perfect – there must be something wrong with you.” You bluntly spoke, cracking a laugh from the man standing across from you, “Spontaneously asking me out for a date, picking me up exactly when you said you are going to, giving me flowers – not to mention a huge bouquet, taking me to this fancy restaurant,” You paused, glancing at the high celling of the restaurant designed as some renaissance meeting of the finest imaginaries from that period with lots of golds and blues painted on the insides of the dome, “Being all sweet, talking all politely with the staff here.” You continued with a short huff, “How are you even single? Every girl that went even once at a date with you must have fallen in love.”

Charles cleft a tiny laugh, “Are you always this suspicious about people you met?”

You declined with a shake of the head, “Not all people, just men.” You highlighted, “I do have my reasons.” You added leaning in your chair to take an even bigger picture at the man standing in front of you.

Charles seemed flawless right then and there, perfection dressed in a casual unbuttoned loose black shirt through which you could clearly spot the man’s muscles all tensed up.

“I am far from perfect Y/N, trust me.” Charles spoke, and yet you were not going to believe him that easily, so you squeezed your lips and frowned your brows to make Charles understand that the answer had to be elaborated for him to gain your reliance, “I am a very stubborn man, I tend to believe that I am right until the pits of hell.” Charles spoke in a serious tone that you were not the witness of up to that point, “I am highly competitive and not just due to the nature of my job. Bring a game of UNO next time with you and I will most definitely make you cry without having the slightest intention to hurt you but having the best intentions to win.” He then continued with a sly smile on the face, “I almost never talk about how I feel up until the point that it boils too much and that is when I explode in a fit of range.” Charles added with a shrug of shoulders, “I might seem like a standup guy and see the world through positive outcomes all the time, but I am pessimistic most of the times and I hardly let people see through the fact that I am such an avid player for the saying <<fake it until you make it>>.” Charles sighed, “That is why I do not allow many people into my life, I am too afraid they might see past this glamours life that I am now showing you a piece of.” The man ended with little to no smile sprung on his face.

You weighted Charles’ words for a while before leaning towards the man to cover one of his hands with yours in comfort, “You say you are not very talkative when it comes to feelings, and yet there you are speaking about some of them with a random woman you met on a week evening.”

Charles’ cheeks burnt once your hand squeezed his, and the man dared to carefully intertwine his fingers between yours, “Look Y/N,” The man spoke with his glare fixed solely on yours, “I am not a twenty-something childish boy, and I am incredibly exhausted of playing games with someone I like. So, I will be as honest as I can be.” He then added, “There is something about you that makes talking easy, comfortable, familiar even. That is why I asked you on a date, and the <<asking on a date part>> is why it took me days to call you – I was too nervous to do so.”

You were too unconscious being hit with Charles’ full-blown honesty to even realized how huge of a shy smile your face showed, your heart felt like it could easily erupt from your chest and make turns around the table. Your hand fit into Charles as the lights in the room illuminated the man’s eyes looking right back into yours. You thought that it was a dream for a split of a moment; it must have been a dream – a mature man confessing right away that he likes you? Dreamy.

You gulped your words, and the only one remining were the following, “You like me?”

Charles nodded, “Yes, I do fancy you.”

Not the simple like, but fancy. Your heart jumped out of your chest, “Can I be totally honest with you too?” You spoke, waiting for yet another nod of approval coming from Charles’ side that came right away, “I do fancy you too.” You smiled, and you could feel the grip tightening around your fingers.

You idiotically looked at each other for more than half of a minute without saying anything to each other but just playing with your fingers on the table – just like teenagers falling in love do.

“Now that this is settled.” Charles spoke, being the first one to break the prom atmosphere between the two of you, “Tell me what your catch is, there must be something wrong with you too.” The man continued with a laugh, making you chuckle at the same time.

“Oh boy –” You paused, “Where do I start?”

You took a full breath of air before starting, and from there on continued five full hours of nothing but deep-dive conversations about each other accompanied by silly touches of feet underneath the table and shy clasping of hands. The whole restaurant watched, although they were unable to hear your table. You two talked about everything that you can perchance talk about yourselves in the span of five hours’ time. Friends, family, childhood, personalities, good things, awful things, never told stories, too many times told stories and yet just few of them involved your jobs.

You talked about the past, mostly about the past and then you switched to the present and hopes for the future. Charles was right, and you followed the man’s words right away. There was something about the person standing in front of you two that made you completely open and unreserved. You laughed a lot, and you even were about to cry one or two times when the conversation went on yet another level. And then, you laughed again and cracked jokes about the presented situations. It felt like talking either to a childhood friend that knew your life from start to finish or like talking with your partner two years into the relationship, and not on your very first date.

You clicked, you clicked right from the start back in the hospital’s kitchen and yet now you were not comprehending still the fact that you were indeed bound to each other through however each of you called “fate”. There were little to no physical movements nor touches, besides the ones just mentioned – and yet you were falling in love right then and there underneath the dim lights of the renaissance dome lookalike.

“It is really that late?” You happily inquired once the waiter had to sadly announce you that they were taking the last order for that night from the customers, “Oh fuck, you have a race tomorrow!”

“It is alright, lack of sleep is worth it for this.” Charles spoke, clasping both of his hands at the level of his chin as he leaned towards you before your check came in, “Let me know if you are free tomorrow during the race time, I want you to come and see me winning.”

You smiled, “You sound very confident, Leclerc. What about the Monaco curse?” You teased, mockingly lifting one of your brows.

“I am positive that you can lift the curse.” Leclerc teased back, “You might be my lucky charm tomorrow." Charles then spoke, throwing you a cheeky wink that you recognized right away as being the same as Xavier’s. You chuckled at the memory; it was indeed a family thing after all.

You pondered the thought for a while, “Charles Leclerc’s lucky charm, I like it.” You spoke, leaning towards Charles too but slightly going over the now clean table to give the man a quick peak on the cheek, “There you go.” You whispered inches away from Charles faintly rosy cheeks, “To bring you luck tomorrow.” You then teased again before going back into your seat to watch a very perplexed Charles Leclerc that was comprehending the presence of your lips on his skin still.

“Oh,” Charles almost shortly moaned taming the pleasured sound in a soft whisper that was meant only for your ears to be heard and for your body to be shaken by it, “Tell me what I have to do for more than this.” Charles then spoke, “I mean –” He then paused in a sly smile, “I think I need to get luckier than this in order to win, right?” Charles continued as he fled the seat he was glued for the past couple of hours and coming straight to you, not caring about anyone in the restaurant still present who could see your face being cupped by him as you rose from your seat as well, meeting the man’s lips halfway as you stood up. You started it first with your innocent kiss on the cheek making Charles all flustered and impatient for more than just a quick peak, now you better catch up.

You chuckled before kissing him, and you chuckled even more when doing so. Charles hands went around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your bodies pressed together. It was just you and Charles, and the remining staff of the restaurant that was too busy cleaning rather than seeing you two making out in one of the corners. Your fingers wrapped the table fabric in between them, and somehow Charles noticed that with eyes closed and took your hand into his to tightening your grip around while the other comfortably rested on your waist still grabbing into the very own fabric of your shirt.

“Now I know what I have to do to win my fifth championship.” Leclerc breathlessly teased after your lips departed for a short while and your eyes locked again.

You licked the bottom of your lips, and Charles’ too before wrapping one of your arms around the man’s neck to kiss him once again, “Let’s see how much luck I carry you tomorrow and then we can think about something to do in regards of the championship.” You teased back, nails slowly jabbing in the back of Charles’ neck.

“I might not get to the race tomorrow if you keep doing this.” Charles spoke, shaking as the shivers from the man’s neck went down his spine.

You chuckled, “Alright, alright. I will stop it, we do not want our favorite driver to miss his home race.”

Charles laughed, “I am your favorite driver now?”

You nonchalantly shrugged your shoulders, “I do not know any other driver besides you, so I guess yes.”

“Let’s hope you are not going to change your mind tomorrow.” Charles spoke, taking your hand even tighter than before to kiss the back of it.

When tomorrow came you did not change your mind, and you for sure did an astounding job as Charles Leclerc’s lucky charm. Charles secured the win from half of the race on, putting an immense gap between him and the others.

Charles knew that you were watching, and that is why he went to a whole another level that day. After all, it was your first Formula 1 race and Charles really wanted to win that fifth championship through all the means known in the racing world and unknown in the bedroom later that same night.

2K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 5 days

Text

Made with Love

Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader

Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible

You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.

This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.

Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”

He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.

To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.

“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.

Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”

Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.

You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”

Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”

You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.

You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.

Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.

Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.

Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”

You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.

When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”

Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.

As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.

You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.

He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.

You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.

Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.

Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.

He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”

You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”

Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”

You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.

After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”

The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.

From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.

The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.

***

You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.

“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.

“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”

Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”

You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.

“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.

After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”

You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”

Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”

This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.

You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”

The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.

“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.

An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”

You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.

After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”

Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.

When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!

After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.

“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.

“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”

Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”

Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”

***

“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.

Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”

Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”

Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”

Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”

You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”

Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.

The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.

Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.

Max looks at him expectantly.

“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”

His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”

Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”

The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.

You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”

He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.

“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”

Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.

Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.

You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.

One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.

“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.

Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.

“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”

“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.

The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.

“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”

Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”

One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.

Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.

You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.

“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.

Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.

“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.

The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.

Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.

He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.

For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.

At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.

He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.

***

It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.

That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.

“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”

You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”

Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”

Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.

One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.

He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.

“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.

You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”

“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”

The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.

“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”

The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.

“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”

For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-

Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”

The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.

He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.

The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.

From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.

Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.

It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.

“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”

Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”

Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”

“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”

It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.

As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.

Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.

The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.

1K notes · View notes

formulaa-1 · 5 months

Note

Soo

A charles leclerc x reader where the reader is the sister of a fellow driver (you pick) and no one knows. and when they do find out the brother loses his shit and then just accepts it

Thx a lot

instagram au🏎️ C.L

Gasly!reader x Charles leclerc

y/n’s older brother Pierre doesn’t know she’s dating his best friend…kind of a soft launch?

y/ngasly

y/ngasly: feels like summer☀️👙

liked by pierregasly, yourfriendsuser, charles_leclerc and 21,347 others

view all 47 comments

pierregasly:Qui est sur la 2e photo ?

y/ngasly: ça ne te regarde pas💗

pierregasly: oi

fransisca.cgomes: beau bébé😍💗

y/ngasly: love youuu💗

gaslyfann: their friendship is so cute >>🥹

pg10fann: we wish you was in the paddock more !!

Liked by y/ngasly

lechairfannn16: charles liking🤭

y/ngasly’s story

caption: breakfast in bed🥐🍓🍉

charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: feels like summer ;)🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️

Liked by y/ngasly, f1fanzz, arthur_leclerc and 251,467 others

view all 563 comments

pierregasly: ☀️☀️☀️

fan57: either Pierre already knows y/n and charles are OBVIOUSLY dating or he’s really dumb 💀💀

user11: deffo dumb 😭😭

fan8: SECOND PHOTO HELLO?????

scuderiaferrari: ❤️❤️❤️

sainzgirly: HIM USING THE SAME CAPTION AS Y/N👹👹👹

user88: we lost him guys🥹🥲🥲

y/nandcha: Y/N AND CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING !!!!!!!!!!!

y/ngasly and charles_leclerc

y/ngasly and charles_leclerc: mon amour❤️❤️

Liked by lorenzotl, yourbff, scuderiaferrari and 645,291 others

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pierregasly: wtf seriously.

y/ngasly: please don’t be mad with me 🫤💗

charles_leclerc: we’re sorry for not telling you before!

pierregasly: fuck off charles

user257: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGGG

arthur_leclerc: beautiful couple❤️

Liked by y/ngasly and Charles_leclerc

fan279: arthurs comment is so funny to me considering there’s a whole fight going on above it 😭😭😭

pierregaslyyyy: fr💀💀

ferarriboyz: *cries in happiness*

user192: they’re🥹so🥹freaking🥹cute😭😭😭😭

y/ngasly

y/ngasly: even tho Pierre was a little pi**ed at first…they’re still besties!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

tagged: pierregasly and charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, gazly10fan and 109,268 others

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gazly10fan: nah that first pic is a violation 💀💀

charles_leclerc: y/n no!!! you promised you wouldn’t post that first one 🤦🏻‍♂️

y/ngasly: meh you love me anyway 💗

charles_leclerc: that’s true 😚❤️

pierregasly: this is actually vile stop.

y/ngasly: as if I don’t see you doing WAY worse in kikas comments💀💀

Liked by fransisca.cgomes

user19: this comment section is so funny😭😭

CL16_ffan: help the haircuts I can’t -

authors note- hope you liked this ,felt a little motivated after my last post so here we go!! I’m so sorry that it took literal months to do this request but I hope this is what you wanted my love ! take care of yourselves ❤️❤️

#f1 instagram au #formula 1 #instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fiction #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando norris #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles lechair #charles leclerc x y/n #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc 16

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thatsdemko · 26 days

Text

flights to Tokyo - c.leclerc

masterlist | pairing: Charles leclerc x gasly!reader. summary: on your flight from Bali to Japan there is a certain someone you didn’t want to see. warnings: forced proximity trope + mentions of choking(in a lighthearted and fun manner) + flirting. a/n: hi hi!!! it’s been awhile since I wrote a fic and specifically a fic of this length 😅 I don’t know too much about flights from Bali to Japan so I deeply apologize but I hope you enjoy xx

of course he’s on this flight. it was one of the only few leaving Bali to Tokyo, unless you wanted to miss good food and a great race, you weren’t going to be on the next flight until two months from now.

you suppress a groan from escaping your lips, but a sound still alerted Charles attention from his phone, over to you lurking towards him down the aisles.

he couldn’t help the annoyed look that plastered his face when he watched you struggle to throw your bag over head, and the look deepened when you slipped into the aisle seat beside him.

“yeah I don’t want to be here either, but look.” you shove your boarding pass into his face for proof that you were to be in the spot beside him for the next twelve hours to Tokyo.

the plane was small, only a few could afford to fly private, but even fewer could afford the once every two month trip to Japan leaving you and a few other passengers on this flight.

Charles was sure one of the men would be kind enough to offer their empty rows up for you, but seeing as they looked as grouchy as they came, he suppressed the thought and shoved his headphones on.

if he had to sit with you, that was fine, but having to listen to you? he’d rather be held against his will at the emergency exit seat.

you didn’t have the best past with Charles. with on again and off again sexual rendezvous, and your brother being his best friend, things plummeted rather quickly that they did to skyrocket.

and if Charles didn’t want to speak with you for twelve hours you could live that, but you couldn’t live with his intoxicating cologne clogging your nostrils and his music blasting through his headphones. but you just shoved your headphones in and watched whatever movie the plane provided for the rest of the time.

HOUR ONE

“that movie again?” he grumbles softly with a shake of his head. you’d seen crazy rich Asians more times than you could count, but the movie was too comforting to skip, and you’d bored yourself with a French classic the second the plane took off.

“I’m sorry, weren’t you just listening to your own music on repeat?”

heat creeps against his skin as he turns from your seat and towards the window. wherever you were, the sun was setting, and across the sky was beautiful blue and pinks.

if you were attempting to avoid Charles, you were doing horrible. because you hated how beautiful his face looked with the pink and gold dancing across his face. why did he have to be so beautiful? couldn’t he have been a gremlin with a tiny dick? but no, god had to make him beautiful in all aspects.

“I think the view is a bit past me.” a smirk lifts against his face, and if you had anything valuable to throw at him, you would. but a pair of headphones, a neck pillow, and your phone weren’t worthy.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“you’ve got eleven more hours of me, cherie, unless you want to sit with one of them.” he directs your gaze towards the rows of elder gentleman passed out snoring,

a scowl holds your face as you turn to him laughing, “you think you’re so funny,” you shove his shoulders, “I hope the flight attendant spits in your food.”

HOUR THREE

you could tell he was becoming restless. Charles very rarely slept on planes, and if he did they were his own private planes with his group of friends. however, he couldn’t find comfort cramped beside you.

he’d moved seats, leaving one in between you both, but that wasn’t enough. he was large, he took up more room than you, and that seemed to always stop him before he extended his legs across the seat.

you begun to notice his tiredness, but you didn’t dare say anything and stuck to your movie, top gun, and continued to read when possible to ignore him.

except Charles was an awfully loud distraction to your peaceful hour three of the flight.

“oh my god, what is your problem?” you ripped off your headphones and give him a glare of annoyance.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

“well find a way.” you growl back slipping your head phones back on. Charles wiggles around a bit more. a gasp escapes his lips that pulls you away from your book. wherever you were, heavy clouds covered the sky, but there stood the icy mountain tops peaking through.

you leaned across Charles lap, phone in hand, you snapped as many pictures as you could before your senses alarmed you how highly inappropriate this was.

the smell of his cologne was stronger. his breathing was as ragged as yours, and if you turned your head just slightly, your lips could practically touch.

this was bad, but every part of you couldn’t pull away. the scene in front of your eyes was beautiful, but the man you’re stretched across, is ten times more powerful. it took every bit of you to not look his way.

“cherie,” he whispered so faintly you could’ve sworn you were dreaming. his fingers ghost your mid, one hand pressed against your back, “I think snacks are being served now.”

warmth spread all across you, sweat built up on your forehead as you slip into the seat beside him and accept the small bag of peanuts before the flight attendant scurried down the aisle.

“you embarrass so easily.”

“I hope you choke on a peanut.”

HOUR FIVE

everyone was asleep but him.

even if he wanted to sleep he just couldn’t, and with you beside him it made it even more impossible to do so.

your hair curled over your face, a hoodie pulled over just above your eyelids, and your head rested on the seat in between you two.

how could he sleep when he was watching you?

he remembers nights when he used to just crash beside you and never take the time to notice how angelic you looked. now, he wishes he took in that moment.

because despite all the shit you went through— the longing and hating— Charles could never shake you from him.

“are you thinking ways to poison me in my sleep?” you stir awake to the vibrant of the plane’s turbulence, eyes fluttering open, you spot Charles greenish blue eyes masked over darkness, but staring into you.

“maybe,” he grumbles in response.

sitting upward, you glance down at your phone, seeing it’d only been a few hours of rest, “Pierre wouldn’t have it. his only sister dead by Charles.” you yawn and take the opportunity to move closer, your head just barely resting on his thigh.

all movement stopped in his body. like if he were to make a sound or a sudden change you’d resort back to your seat.

your breathing was shallow and even. your eyes flutter close and you find all comfort in him beside you. like you didn’t spend the first hour in agony over this seating arrangement.

Charles knew that whatever was rummaging through his mind about you Pierre wouldn’t like, and that was enough to force his eyes shut and relax under your touch against his legs.

HOUR TEN

two hours to go.

breakfast was being served and Charles was starving. you were taking your time to butter your biscuit, carefully having plucked his butter as extra, he waited impatiently for your knife.

“for the love of god,” he muttered taking the plasticware out of your hand and beginning to cut up his food without giving you a spare thought.

“patience has never been a virtue for you has it?” you snatch the knife back with a low growl and continue working butter onto the warm biscuit while carefully taking bites.

the flight made you appreciate a few things: 1. You and charles had much more of a friendship besides sexual encounter 2. while Charles was still a dick, you appreciated his humor to keep you sane throughout 12 hours.

“what’s your first time in Tokyo?” you ask.

“a comfortable bed, what about you?”

you nod in agreement ready to even out the kinks you’d formed in your neck, “same.”

“I was thinking,” Charles says, snatching the knife from your hand again, this time only to grab your attention from your breakfast, “do you maybe want to travel around Japan with me?”

shock waves ripple down your spine. you hadn’t done much together in broad daylight— at least nothing acceptable for the sun to see— it would be the first time you and Charles do something appropriate without Pierre involved.

“you’re really missing joris’ company that much?”

he scoffs at your response, “what if I just want to be with you and your shitty remarks? ever think about that?”

butterflies attempt to swarm out your stomach, but you refuse to let them slip. you couldn’t fall for Charles again, mistakes of the past were made, but you could change the future.

“and what do I get out of it?”

“food and great company. just friends,” he smiles taking the quick chance to reach over and eat the last of your biscuit in your hand, “and a new one of these.”

exhaling a long sigh, you lean back against the uncomfortable seat, “fine. but you owe me a biscuit.”

“not if I choke on it first.”

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