#AND NOW THEM ONES OF ANDREA AND JORIS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrysainz · 8 months ago

Text

about you. charles leclerc

“ snippets of times your paths cross. and how you begin to intertwine a little. / in which you, after many months, find your way back to him again. ”

charles leclerc x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

strongly advise listening to ‘about you’ by the 1975 just for extra vibes idk

The first thing you think, as he gestures for you to lean into the window of his car - Andrea is holding up your red iPhone to take this picture you may have dreamed of since forever - is that he smelled very real.

It sounds ridiculous. Of course it does, but there is a significant way in which he smells like almond and vanilla scented something that makes you feel like you’re sixteen in your shower with your mum’s body wash she was gifted that in turn was for your own use (she liked soap bars instead).

And as the man smiles and counts down from three, you try to smile effortlessly- you will be showing this photo for years to come- but instead your grin is real, because he is real now, you will remember the smell, his smile, the soft lilt of his voice that you knew wasn’t his proper one.

“Thank you,” you say for a moment, sincere. The Sunday evening is early and welcome, his race win is fresh on everyone’s minds.

“And congratulations.” You add, as an afterthought, smiling. “I seem to have forgotten that.”

He falters for a moment - your casualness has seemed to startle him - and your friends are already pulling you away from the car, wanting to beat the traffic. Andrea hands your phone back and you lean a bit awkwardly over Charles to get it. Charles is staring at you with some sort of amusement, and as you shout a goodbye and a thank you, he waves with a grin as some boys run up to the car.

You laugh into the night air as you get into the taxi, staring at the photos, some candid, some not, of the two of you.

His smile is as big as yours, clearly ecstatic about his win still.

🍷🍝📷💋

A few months later - it’s summer - and you’re in Italy, hot nights and all the Aperol Spritzes are powering you through the days. You’re bundled up in the front seat of a little Volkswagen Beetle on your way to someone’s villa/winery when you notice two guys standing on the side of the road with a car that’s run out of petrol.

You gesture to your friend, and she sighs, and you pause the song and stick your head out of the yellow car. “Are you guys okay?” You say in that heavy accented English, and with a jolt you realise it’s Charles and Joris.

Your friend has realised too - she was at the Grand Prix with you that night - and Charles is staring at the two of you through those RayBans, a little laughing smirk on his face. “The car’s gone.“

“Are you sorting it out, or…?” You say, giggling a little; Joris looks very uncomfortable in the summer sun.

“Everyone’s closed. We called. It’s a Sunday.”

“Get in,” you say, sharing a glance with your friend, “Come have some lunch. One of our friend’s dad is a mechanic, we’ll see what he can do.”

You watch him debate with Joris silently, and then with a shrug they get in.

“This is Stella,” you say, smiling, and introduce yourself too. Charles’ face kind of squints with recognition. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I met you in Monaco the night you won,” you smile, kind of embarrassed, and he slaps his thigh, making a noise of recognition to be nice (but you know he doesn’t remember that interaction at all).

You nod and Stel talks to them for a while, talking about how lovely Italy’s been in August, and the road is winding away until you’re at Luca’s.

🍷🍝📷💋

You friend Luca is very drunk, you note, the flush on his cheeks and the lazy lilt to his voice are very apparent. When he recognises Charles - this friend group is F1 mad - he hugs him and runs away immediately to get him a drink.

You’ve let your friends take on the role of entertainment for the guests, opting to strip down to your bikini and hop in the pool. It’s a scorching hot day, and you lather on sun cream before relaxing with a spicy margherita in your hands.

Your girlfriends pounce, Stella telling the story of picking up the hitchhikers and one of them thinks she can “totally bag Leclerc” before you’re all called inside for the food.

Before you walk in, you slip on the pair of denim shorts you were wearing and some sandals. Charles has a drink in hand and is sitting at the table already, the pasta and homemade bread having been broken into. Stel pulls you in to sit opposite him and Joris, and you lean over to dish some salad while Charles discusses the watch on his wrist with one of your friends (it’s the car chase robbery story that went viral a few months ago). Joris watches on, looking a bit awkward, so you lean in and begin to make some conversation.

He gladly accepts the invitation to talk, and you launch into a conversation about the holiday he is on before getting stuck on the road. You realise Charles is watching you speak now, oddly engaged, and you look down at your food, cheeks hot.

“So you two were in Monaco, right? For the Grand Prix? How was it?” Charles says, smiling sort of amicably, and a rush of embarrassment engulfs you as you smile at him. “So good. We loved it.” You say, and Stella launches into a story about a weird man who sat next to you on the grandstand.

🍷🍝📷💋

You squeeze in to the middle of the backseat, between Charles and Joris: your bare legs brush against them both in a moment that has you scrunching your nose with disbelief, Luca’s dad rattles on in Italian in the passenger seat with a large petrol can in his lap.

Twenty minutes later, you’re back on the hill on the dark and you’re hugging Charles and Joris goodbye, waving them away. You blow a kiss and get back in the backseat, laughing, shaking your heads.

🍷🍝📷💋

Seven months later, the cold February air finds you in Milan as you walk by an open window. You’re here for work, for Fashion Week, and you drift between fashion houses and shows, writing about them, chatting to models and designers and curators and it’s all so elegant, fun and exciting.

Next on your list is Ferrari’s show in the early evening, looking down to your list, and the waitress brings over your drink in the cosy restaurant.

Sitting on a cold hard (concrete?) bench across from the runway, you’re sitting between to an influencer with the most gorgeous pink jacket you’ve ever seen and an old fashionable Italian man with leathery tanned skin (how is he so tan?), and you launch into conversation with him about his experience this week so far, making notes. The show is as good as it could get for the brand, their classic leather, green and red and yellow ensembles with some gems in between that you adore. It’s alright, you think, it’s average, and just as you’re debating leaving someone roars in Italian and holy shit, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz are walking down the runway.

You immediately begin to laugh a little under your breath, taking some pictures, and as Charles passes your side the girl next to you tries not to shout.

They look pretty cool, you think - all leather pants and shirts and vests, stuff you think they could use a little more of for their everyday fashion. You cheer along with everyone else as Carlos blows a kiss when they leave, laughing a little.

🍷🍝📷💋

You’re just about to leave when a girl comes up to you and engulfs you in a hug, and you tentatively grip her back before looking back, only then relaxing. She’s from university, she eagerly recounts memories of 1st year linguistics class. She hands you a glass of champagne and invites you back to the after celebration, and with a shrug - it can’t hurt, right? - you follow, being led into a room at the back.

It smells like too much cologne, and you scrunch your nose as you find a stray canapé to munch on when Joris calls your name.

Of course he’s standing there, and you run over to give him a hug.

“My saviour!” He jokes, and you laughed, staying by his side to have a chat. You can’t believe he even remembered you. You’re chatting about your latest projects when you’re interrupted by a hand on your shoulder. It’s Charles and Carlos, and Charles has to stare at you for five seconds to figure out who you are before he says your name, squeezing your shoulder. You stand there, rocking on your high heels for a second before he introduces you to Carlos.

“She saved me and Joris in Italy last summer when our car ran out of petrol, we had lunch at their friend’s house.”

Carlos laughs a little when Joris chips in. You’re staring at someone walking past in a great pair of red leather pants when Joris taps your arm.

“We still have to pay you back for last year. Do you want to go for dinner with us?”

Now Carlos’ girlfriend, Rebecca, has turned up, achingly beautiful, and Carlos introduces you and you kiss cheeks before she nods and says she’s so hungry too.

So you end up in a big black car, and Charles is phoning the restaurant and they don’t have a table for 5pm until he does a subtle name drop and then they magically do. Italy has a big love for him, their il predestinato. When you all pull up, there are a lot of people milling about outside, in sparkly dresses and sweatpants, lots of makeup and bare-faced, and you spot Suki Waterhouse when you walk in.

They give you a spot near the back, the brown wall making the space warm as you and Rebecca slide in to the booth.

They order aperitifs and you all chat about what you’ve been seeing this fashion week, the boys’ experience walking, and then you talk to Rebecca about her life for a while.

Then you all order seafood, and it’s delicious and tastes like it’s been made with joy and love.

“I still feel like we have to repay you,” Charles says, catching your attention, and you laugh and shrug the idea away. “This dinner’s lovely. It’s okay.”

“Can I give you and … -“ Joris murmurs to him, “Stella nice tickets to Monaco? Or Monza? Is that fine?”

“Monaco,” Joris nods, and Charles looks at him then back to you. “Really, it’s the least we can do.”

You are busy turning down the offer when Charles shakes his head. “Sorry. See you in May.”

🍷🍝📷💋

You and Stella giggle gleefully as you hear the little sound of your card authorising your access to the paddock. The two of you intertwine arms, walking down. You walk around, peering at everyone supposedly trying to get on with their business in the Thursday morning.

You send a text to Joris, and you just keep walking around for twenty minutes until he replies and says he’s sent someone to come get you. It’s a woman, and she has a lovely smile and she takes you to the hospitality - it’s upstairs, because the paddock is so small in Monaco, and you two have a glass of champagne before Joris appears, slightly sweaty. He’s just got here, he explains, him and Charles - they were slightly held up by fans.

You and Stella laugh and hug him.

🍷🍝📷💋

You spent the day just talking with Joris and other people in the hospitality about their jobs. It’s genuinely the best experience, and it’s nearing 6pm when everyone starts closing up and you are standing near the entrance/exit of the paddock, Stella in the bathroom when Charles comes up to you.

You’re on your phone when you hear him walk up, and you look up with a smile. You haven’t seen him since that dinner - three months ago - and when he pulls you into a hug you feel a rush of energy (electricity?) flow through you. His smile is big and bright.

“How was your day?” You ask, fiddling with your phone case, and he sighs dramatically. “Busy. Monaco is always crazy.”

You nod.

“How was yours?”

“So great. The people in your team are so wonderful. I had a really lovely day.”

Your dress swishes in the wind and you see him cast a glance down at your exposed legs before meeting your eyes again. “Me and Joris are going to do pasta tonight. Do you want to come over for it?”

“Stella’s still here…” you say awkwardly. “I’m not sure what she wanted to do, she mentioned going out.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Ok.”

Stella comes back from the bathroom and she smiled at Charles. “I never got to say thanks for this trip, it’s been great so far.”

Charles smiles at her. “No problem.”

🍷🍝📷💋

Friday comes and goes, a slightly uneventful day (you don’t see Charles, he’s too busy with the practices and the press) and there you are on a rainy Saturday morning.

Stella insisted on hiring a bicycle to get the ‘authentic experience’ so the two of you are busy cursing the weather in plastic rain jackets as you whiz down the streets on bright green bikes.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you see that Charles and Andrea getting off their bikes as you arrive. He notices you, sodden like a wet rat, your nice jeans probably ruined, and giggles in the pouring rain, coming over to help you off your bike and give you an awfully cold hug. His arms wrap around you and you feel him kiss your cheeks, so you return them, but you’re shivering so much he keeps his arms around you until the same nice lady from Thursday comes with an umbrella and takes you inside. You wave goodbye to Charles as he goes to the garage and you blush, your hair soaked still.

The woman takes you and Stella to a tiny little room with cupboards and points to a drawer that contains a hairdryer and a Dyson airwrap (to your delight) so the two of you end up hair-drying yourselves dry - jeans and all. You also get to touch up your makeup after you dry your bag with the hairdryer too.

Nice and warm, you’re given cappuccinos and you peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the track, and see the boats rock in the harbour due to the rain and the wind.

“I don’t think we’ll have qualifying on time at this rate,” another man comments, also a guest of Ferrari, and you and Stella nod, trying to seem up to speed with track condition information.

So an hour later the two of you get to watch the boys film a YouTube video, and part of a vlog they seem to be making.

Afterwards, Charles comes over with Joris, and the four of you chat for twenty minutes before Charles is called away. It’s soft conversation, irritating talk about the weather because of the people around you, so you’re glad to change the topic when he leaves.

“What are your plans for tomorrow evening?” Joris comments. There’s a big party, you’ve heard from the groups of rich and famous people, happening on this gigantic yacht tomorrow, but you haven’t scored an invite so you might just go clubbing. But that sounds embarrassing, so you shrug. “Not sure yet.”

“You have to come to this big party an old friend of Charles is hosting. It’s on this yacht and everyone will be there.”

You and Stella fistbump under the table.

“And what are you guys doing tonight? Charles said you guys were having pasta last night.”

Joris looks a little surprised for a moment then quirks his lips in thought. “Probably not anything. He likes to be alone the night before the race. But last year we did this little dinner at his brother’s house which ended up being really nice.”

You nod.

Qualifying is postponed until five o’clock, and you’re taken to the paddock club by someone to be able to stand at the top and peer down at the track.

The rain has quietened down, yet there’s a lot of tyre warfare, teams mistakenly putting on hards before spinning out so there’s a red flag or two before Q3.

You watch the big screens to see Max score pole, and with a wince Charles is only third.

It’s highly upsetting because of how crucial qualifying is for Monaco. So everyone supporting Ferrari (Carlos is sixth) lets out a heavy sigh before going back to the hospitality.

🍷🍝📷💋

It’s 8 now, the sky dimming, and Stella has plans to see an old school friend so you hang around the hospitality, dreading taking the stupid bike back to the hotel.

There’s an energy in the air tonight, the kind you only get in a different place at night. It’s that kind of powerful feeling. You’re talking to one of the chefs as they all finish their service for the night when Charles comes to pick up food, and you’re surprised to see him when he comes to stand next to you.

“Hi,” you say softly, smiling when the chef you’re talking to launches himself at Charles for a hug, speaking rapid French.

“Where’s Stella?” He asks, and he’s checking how his food looks through a peek at the polystyrene container when you reply. “She has plans with another friend tonight.”

“So what’re you doing?” He looks up at you.

“Avoiding taking the bike back to the hotel, then I’ll probably have dinner there.”

“If you ride that stupid big bicycle 5km back to the hotel now at night and in the rain alone I’m going to kill you.” His expression is one of concern.

You laugh as he laughs too, his cheeks warming.

“I’ll get someone to come pick it up, I know they work at the company. Please let me take you somewhere for some food?”

“Don’t you want to wind down before the race?” You ask, uncertain.

He shakes his head. “You won’t be a bother.” He says quietly, and you blush, looking down at the floor.

So you two leave, and he’s got a car waiting for him, and you sprint from the hospitality because the rain’s started to pour again.

🍷🍝📷💋

You have to stop at his apartment so he can drop off the food that he now probably won’t eat and so he can change out of his garishly red clothing to be a little more discreet.

You two stand alone in the lift, and you look at him in the mirror for a moment before your eyes meet and he looks away.

His apartment is immediately cosy in the way a man just has stuff everywhere. He has a coat of his mom’s you can borrow after he noticed you shiver when you got out of the car, and when he hands it to you the look on his face is so tender you feel a little anxious.

Going back down, you stand a little closer and get back in the car. He smells comforting now, like that cologne you once caught a whiff of one hot Italian summer day.

Scrolling through your feed, your phone lights up the car and he gets a call from his mom, talking softly in French to her.

You lock your phone. The driver tells you to connect to the aux via Bluetooth and you freeze up with anxiety. But when you start with a Fleetwood Mac song Charles is mouthing the words silently as he texts someone so you relax.

Because of traffic, it takes you forty minutes to get to this restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. Charles opens your door for you.

Entering, the maître d’ is an elderly woman and she hugs Charles so tight. You stand there behind him and she comes to hug you too. She seats you two far away from the door after he asks.

“I think you should get pasta. It’s unreal here.” He says, after you’ve both ordered water.

You smile. “What are you eating?”

“Probably just a chicken salad. Have to stay in order for tomorrow,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not eating pasta if you have to eat a salad. That’s sad.”

You then bicker for ten minutes until the woman - Gilda - comes back. You make him order first - a chicken Parmesan salad - and then order the same and he shoots you a look (he thought he convinced you to order the pasta).

🍷🍝📷💋

After supper you leave in the drizzle, and he takes your arm and loops it through his. His arm is so warm, and you end up leaning your head against the beginning of his shoulder as you stand against the wall, waiting for the driver again.

He turns his head to say something to you, then stares at you for a second. He then leans down to whisper something in your ear and you giggle and then he’s moved to face you properly.

You’re anxiously biting your lip because he’s looking at you like you hang the stars in the sky and you feel terribly awkward and then he leans down and kisses you and he tastes like Parmesan so you laugh in the kiss.

You feel his body shake with laughter beneath your touch and his body is warm even in the drizzle. And when you kiss his lips make your whole body fire up. And his hand is gripping your waist through his mother’s coat and his other hand is running through your slowly dampening hair and he groans and you’re electric.

You pull away when the driver drives up, flushed and awfully happy. His cheeks are pink and his eyes soft.

“Get in the car,” he murmurs softly, and when he opens the door he slides on to the backseat behind you and wraps a hand around your shoulder and everything feels perfect.

back from hibernation. hope you enjoyed!!!!

here’s my masterlist

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic

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notleclerc · 1 year ago

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I want to be appreciated

🖤Charles x Fem!reader

🖤summary: Charles reached his limit after his results at the Austin Grand Prix and needs his lover more than ever

🖤warnings: angst, fluff and a lil suggestive at the end ;) French sentences are translated

🖤a/n: this is my first fic so please have mercy on me. English is not my first language so i am happy for any feedback <3 ENJOY BABES

Charles was always a giver. His friends needed him to take them somewhere? Alright be ready in 5. His Team Principal called him last minute for a team meeting? Of course anything for Ferrari.

It never bothered Charles because that’s his way of showing care and appreciation to what he has. He loves seeing others being well and happy and him being the reason for that but what about his needs? Why is it so hard for people to appreciate him?

It hit him hard when he ended up in P6 and was later on disqualified at the US Austin Grand Prix. People rushed to him and tried to cheer him up but nothing worked and that’s when they realised, they‘ve got no clue on how to help the one that always WAS the helper himself. All Charles needed right now was the warmth of one person. You, (Y/n). His lovely girlfriend that somehow notices everything about him.

Charles enters his driver room and sees you already waiting for him with your arms wide open and a gentle smile on your face.

„Come here mon amour, laisse-toi aller, tu es en sécurité ici“ (my love, let it all out, you are safe here)

It‘s in that moment that Charles finally let‘s go and crashes in your arms with quiet sobs and a tight grip on your shirt. He keeps repeating „why me, why? what did i do?“ as he hides his face in your neck.

(Y/n) doesn‘t say anything and keeps softly caressing his back and scratching his head and let‘s him cry it all out. You remind him that he is safe here and that you‘ve got him. Charles slowly stopped and sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes.

„It‘s always like this ma cherrié, i just want to leave…peut-on retourner à l'hôtel s‘il tu plaît?“. (can we go back to the Hotel please?)

(Y/n) nods and grabs his bag that she already packed because she knew charles wouldn‘t want to be around anyone. (Y/n) messaged Joris and Andrea and let them know that they are leaving. You handed Charles his sunglasses and hat and grabbed his hand.

„Lets go Cha, just follow my lead okay baby?“

He only nodded and followed you like a lost puppy into his rented Ferrari. Fans, journalists and photographers tried to take pictures and ask questions but you shieled him and asked for distance and respect. Once at the car, you wanted to enter the passenger seat but got tugged back slightly by Charles.

„Can you please drive… i just… i just don‘t want to…“

With no hesitation, you let him sit and took the seat behind the steering wheel and drove the two of you back to the hotel. Once there, you helped Charles enter through the back door and you both immediatly made your way inside your room and let him lay down on the bed. Charles heard your footsteps and turned his face to look at you and saw you disappearing into the bathroom.

(Y/n) tied her hair up and started to run a warm bath for Charles with lavender scented bubbles, a scent to relax the mind. While the bathub was getting ready, (Y/n) went back to Charles and started to take off his shoes and his clothes.

„Let me take care of you my love okay? All you have to do is enjoy and relax and nothing else“

You kiss his forehead as he looked tiredly and hopeful at you. Charles nodded and let you guide him into the bathroom that is filled with the aroma of lavender which immediatly calms him down slowly. (Y/n) guides him into the bath and let’s him relax his tense muscles.

„Close your eyes mon amour and let me massage you and take care of you. Tell me if you need anything ma vie“ (my life)

You kiss his lips softly as he closes his eyes and sighs in content. You start to massage his head and move down towards his shoulders and arms. You make sure to massage the sore spots and gently start to also massage the rest of his body. Charles felt like he was on cloud nine as he could finally relax and only focus on you and your touch. Usually it’s a big havoc inside his brain when its a race weekend but with this? He never wants to go back.

After cleaning and massaging his whole body, (Y/n) also washed his hair and made him step out of the bathub once finished. He put the towel around himself and you gently took his hand and brought him back to the bedroom. You helped drying him and made sure to moisturize is body and face gently.

During the whole process you would give him soft kisses and tell him how proud you are of him and encourage him.

Charles watched you with nothing but loving eyes as he felt his whole body feel the warmth of your kind soul. Every touch and gaze from you made him feel loved, cared for and… and appreciated… finally…He almost teared up again at the thought of having you by his side and how blessed he was.

You lightly laugh at his teared up eyes and hold his face.

„I love you Charles, whatever goes inside of that incredible brain of yours just know that with me you will always be loved and appriciated.“

(Y/n) kisses him and Charles automatically wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him. You sit on his lap and keep admiring him with a soft smile.

„Merci mon amour, je t'aime du plus profond de mon cœur et de mon âme.“ (thank you my love, i love you from the deepest part of my heart and soul.)

You were about to stand up and grab some clothes for Charles but he held your wrist and gave you a pleading look.

„Mon amour… please…je veux que tu touches tout mon corps, qui brûle de désir pour toi.“ (I want your touch all over my body, its burning in desire for you)

You looked down and saw his bulge growing underneath the towel and Charles blushing red in need and want for you. His hold on your wrist gets tighter and his whines get into your head.

„Je serai un bon garçon pour toi, mon amour“ (I‘ll be a good boy for you my love)

There are definitely more ways of showing appreciation…

HOW YOU GUYS FEELING ABOUT THISSSSSS? This was hunting me all week long after seeing the results of the race :(

Reblogs, comments & feedback are very much appreciated!

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months ago

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Hii could I get some Charles fluff in Japan

"You have to treat this like a dance, Charles!", you smiled as he got up on the platform, discussing a strategy with Joris on how we could make more points than you and win the game, touching the arrows with his feet to "get a sense of the feel of them", he said.

"We never dance like this, amour", Charles said as Joris pressed play in both machines so you could start at the same time,

"No, no! I'm falling behind!", your boyfriend groaned as he missed a couple of arrows, trying his best to focus on his game even though Andrea kept trying to annoy him, silently rooting for you a you seemed to do it almost effortlessly.

"I WON! I KNEW I WOULD WIN!", you clapped after Charles' game showed a "try again" message on the screen, doing a little dance of your own before your boyfriend whisked you into his arms, "well, dance with me now? I promise I'll live it to your standards", he winked before lacing your hands.

You were dancing in the middle of the arcade, Charles' head nestled on your neck as he littered little kisses on your skin and whispered sweet nothings, "there's no one else I'd rather be here with, mon ange", he murmured, "I want to do this forever with you".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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lestappenforever · 11 months ago

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I just saw a TikTok that said “imagine Charles playing basketball, points at you and says this is for you and completely misses 20 times in a row” and now I can’t stop imagining max awkwardly standing there while this happens.

I cackled at this mental image for fifteen minutes, so I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, anon.

---

Max Verstappen understands that people are different. He also understands that people have different definitions of fun. And it just so happens that Max Verstappen's idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon is not to be in a clammy gym that kind of smells like years and years of old sweat, with the loud, insufferable sound of sneakers squeaking against hardwood floor every few seconds while a group of not-even-a-little talented men run around, trying to get a basketball through the hoops.

It is, however, Charles Leclerc's idea of fun, apparently. And Max has long since learned that dating Charles Leclerc means that he will be spending some of his off-season days doing things he wouldn't usually subject himself to.

Such as watching his idiot boyfriend and his entourage of idiot friends trying to play basketball. Emphasis on trying.

Andrea isn't half-bad, but not being half-bad isn't very helpful when the other seven people on the field are absolutely useless. Max has long since lost track of how many times Joris has failed at his attempt to receive a pass, and Riccardo has been spending more time on the floor of the gym than on his feet. But worst of them all, is Charles.

Beautiful, wonderful Charles, who can navigate an F1 car through the smallets of corners at incredibly high speeds without issue, but who can't seem to get a basketball through a hoop to save his fucking life.

He hasn't managed to score a single point, and they've been playing for close to forty-five minutes already. It's nearing to the point of being painful to keep watching, but Max can't seem to tear his eyes away. It's like watching a car crash, and Max is captivated.

Another ten minutes pass before Joris demands a break, claiming to be on the verge of death, and the group makes their way towards the stands. Andrea holds his fist out for Max to bump once he's within reach, and Max obliges.

"How do you put up with them?" Max asks, watching as Andrea chugs half a bottle of water in one go.

"I ask myself the same question almost daily," Andrea responds with a sigh, which earns him an offended huff from Joris. Andrea rolls his eyes and pointedly doesn't acknowledge it further.

Max huffs a laugh and gets to his feet, making his way down onto the court and turning right, walking in the direction of the bathrooms.

Upon finishing his business and returning to the court, Charles is the only person who has returned to the court, and he's standing at the freethrow line in front the hoop closest to the bathrooms.

"Hey, Max!" the Monégasque shouts as Max passes him, and when Max looks over at him, the other man is grinning widely at him.

"Yeah?" Max calls back.

"This is for you," Charles shouts, pointing at Max and giving him one of his signature attempts at a wink — his worst attempt yet, Max finds himself fondly thinking — before throwing the ball in the direction of the hoop.

It goes flying over the entire thing, and Charles scrambles to retrieve it once it returns to the floor.

"Kidding," Charles tries and fails to sound nonchalant as he returns to the freethrow line. "This is for you!"

This time, Charles throws the ball so hard it slams against the board behind the hoop and immediately returns to the Monégasque's hands.

Max stares, unimpressed. Somewhere behind him, Andrea stifles a laugh — Joris flat-out cackles. From where he's standing, Max can see Charles' cheeks pinking slightly, and as the Monégasque glances at him, Max recognizes that look in his eyes.

Determination. Not unlike the determination he has seen in Charles' eyes so many times before a race.

"Ah, fuck," the Dutchman groans, as Charles makes a third attempt to make the shot. He fails, yet again, and immediately runs to retrieve the ball.

And so it begins: Charles trying and failing to get the ball into the hoop, from several angles and distances, and Max awkwardly standing at the sidelines, watching him the entire time.

He misses a grand total of twenty times before Andrea loses his patience and intercepts the ball before Charles can retrieve it for a twenty-first attempt, and announces that the game will resume, putting Max out of his misery.

Charles argues with Andrea in Italian and Max leaves them to it, returning to his previous seat to keep watching what is arguably the least impressive game of basketball he has ever seen.

Another half hour passes before the group decides to call it a day, and start packing up their things to go home. Charles, however, remains on the court even as his friends start departing one by one, barely even acknowledging them with a dismissive wave of his hand as they bid him farewell. Shortly after, Max and Charles are alone in the gym.

With a sigh, Max gets to his feet and walks onto the court, where Charles has once again tried and failed to get the ball into the hoop from the freethrow line.

"Wanna go home?" Max asks him once he comes to a halt a couple of steps from the Monégasque.

"Nope," Charles answers immediately, without looking at Max. His laser focus is trained on the hoop as he shoots — and misses.

"Are we going to stay here until you make that shot?"

"Yep."

Max rubs a hand over his face. "Do I have a say in the matter?"

"Nope."

"Lovely," the Dutchman concedes, and walks back over to the stands to take a seat.

It takes Charles thirty-three new attempts to finally get the ball in the hoop, bringing his total attempts up to fifty-three. Max watches every single one.

But it's all worth it in the end when the ball finally goes in, and Charles erupts into a wild celebration — falling to his knees and pumping his fists in the air as if he has just won his first World Championship. And Max realizes he would gladly sit there until the morning if he had to when he sees the look of pure, unadulterated joy on the Monégasque's face as he beams at Max.

Not that he'd ever tell Charles that, though. Because the man is insane enough to actually make him do it, too, if he knew. So Max applauds Charles' achievement and returns the grin Charles sends him with a matching one of his own, before he gets to his feet.

"Well done, babe," the Dutchman says. "Now can we go home?"

And Charles leaps to his feet and bounds over to Max like an excited puppy, throwing himself into the other man's arms and wrapping his own around the back of Max's neck.

"Now we can go home," Charles confirms, pressing a firm kiss to Max's lips that the Dutchman can't help but smile into.

It's a smile that fades quickly, though, when Charles pulls back with wide, excited eyes.

"I'm just going to try to make a shot from the half court line first," the Monégasque says, as he turns to look for the ball.

Before he can start moving towards it, however, Max grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him back firmly. "Absolutely fucking not," he huffs, using his hold on Charles' shirt to turn the other man around and shove him towards his things.

"But —,"

"Home."

Charles pouts the whole way there. Max pretends not to notice, because now it's Charles' turn to take part in Max's idea of fun: which doesn't involve leaving the apartment. Or the bedroom.

Being in a relationship means making compromises, after all. And, well, Charles kind of likes compromises.

#Asks #Anon asks #Lestappen asks #Lestappen drabble #My writing #I'm not taking prompts btw #I just couldn't not write this #Lestappen

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c2-eh · 5 months ago

Note

I just had a charlos thought (prompt maybe??) Charles writing things about Carlos in his note book, and then losing said notebook which results in a mini breakdown because he HAS to find it before anyone reads it and he’s freaking out but he can’t tell anyone why he’s freaking out either, everyone’s searching for the note book which causes him more stress, Carlos ends up finding it but doesn’t read it but Charles thinks he has

oh god this has been in my inbox for A YEAR and i randomly found it now... idek if you still follow me anon or if you even care about charlos (you should they are fruity and in love!), but i come with 2k as compensation <3 it was funnn to write this! enjoyyyy luvs! <3

Charles is freaking out. Rightfully, if he were to say so himself, as he just lost a very important thing in his life.

The whole garage of his is up and on their feet, trying their best to find an A4 blue notebook that is filled with details about Charles’ life – mostly racing, because Charles’ life is racing, racing and racing again, so it made sense to do that.

And well, that’s what he told everyone. Acted like the said notebook only holds the racing knowledge like data, strategies, technical stuff, Charles’ feelings about the car, possible improvements and such things. It is half true, however, not the full truth. Not in the slightest.

No one knows why he is freaking out so much. Only Andrea. And Joris. And Antoine. Because Charles can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about anything, ever.

The tell-tale rapid breathing of his was a hint Charles should calm down and not overthink this, but the fact he couldn’t reveal why the search was so urgent, made him lose a bit of sanity each time someone approached him a question about why it was so important.

Racing is important, was be his answer, but no one actually believed him, because everyone knows Charles holds all the information in his mind. The notebook is just a help. A boost if you may. He lives and breathes racing and he would think back to the imperfections (or the perfections, but there’s not many currently) on the whim.

Charles was surprised and wondered why no one seemed to be disturbed by the fact he insisted and nearly shouted at everyone that if they were to find the notebook, they could never ever open it, no matter what. He could blame it on wanting a privacy, but why would you need that big of a privacy from your team, if the things in the notebook were about the data the said team has?

“Nothing?” Charles asked in dejected voice after around 2 and half hours of searching. One look at his mechanics’ faces and he did not really need a vocal answer. He sighed and thanked everyone for their effort, sending them off in the process, retracting to his room with his head hung low.

It’s not like Charles was drawing his and Carlos’ initials in hearts into the notebook, no, but there were some things that would easily reveal his true feelings towards his teammate and he couldn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t be able to swallow down the rejection – Carlos’ big brown eyes so apologetic, feeling sorry for him and just because Carlos is such a good guy, he would try to force himself to like Charles just to make him happy.

Only if that was actually possible, Charles thinks and scoffs, the sound echoing around the hall.

Charles loves Carlos. It took him a long time to come into terms with it and it was honestly a big messy battle within him – one of his heart and brain and probably dick too – which in the end his heart won, no matter how much his brain tried (did it?) to resist the feelings.

Charles returned back to his driver’s room, his mood still sulky. He was slowly losing hope, but at the same time gaining it, because if his notebook got lost somewhere no one could find, then it meant Carlos couldn't either. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Charles’ brain was determined to convince him that was the case (or maybe it was Charles himself trying so hard to not get his feeling revealed to avoid the hurting).

---

Back in his hotel room, Charles still feels a bit down and paranoid, but it quickly disappears once he settles deep into his bath. Hot water sooths his muscles and he sighs – for the hundredth time today.

The rest of his evening routine passes by quickly and just as he’s about to climb into his bed, his face moisturized and hair washed, someone knocks on his door.

It’s Carlos. Looking better than ever.

Charles’ breath hitches when he opens the door, but he plays it off with a cough. He curses himself for not checking who it was before. His teammate looks sheepish, shy even, with how he’s looking at Charles with his big brown eyes. However, once Charles sees what Carlos is holding in his hand, he is done studying Carlos’ handsome face. His breath quickens and suddenly he feels like suffocating.

“What is that,” he says, voice flat. His eyes are zeroed on the A4 blue notebook filled with his handwriting talking about Carlos, his hands, hair, nose, eyes, and… Fuck.

How fucking stupid was he to write it into his work notebook? Charles needs to not be close to that thing during boring meetings ever again.

“Wow, I at least expected a simple ‘hello’,” Carlos chuckles and Charles can’t even appreciate the sound now. He only frowns and misses the way Carlos’ face drops.

“Carlos,” he warns firmly and then, without thinking, snatches the notebook from his hand, not caring it’s rude, nor that he still did not invite Carlos into his room. He immediately checks it, listing through the pages to make sure everything is intact.

Once he is sure, he takes a deep breath and turns back towards Carlos that is now standing in the middle of his room, the door behind him closed shut.

Carlos is looking at him – studying him, his expression scrutinizing – as if Charles turned into alien or something. His brows are slightly furrowed and his full pink lips are downturned. Oh no.

“Care to explain what the fuck was that?” Carlos asks, crossing his arms on his chest. And Charles is not the God’s strongest soldier. His eyes fly over Carlos’ whole body, eyes stopping on his bulging biceps, before he snaps out of it.

Out of nowhere, Charles’ blood starts to boil. Why is this man acting like Charles is stupid?

“Oh don’t act innocent, I know you did it,” Charles scoffs and clutches the notebook close to his chest. He’s never ever leaving it out there in the open.

Carlos looks confused and Charles is momentary startled. He shakes his head. No, he definitely did, he wouldn’t look so guilty other way.

“I am truly confused, Charles. Can you please talk to me and explain what’s going on?” oh and if Charles does not hate when Carlos is calm and rational, all while Charles is losing his mind.

He rolls his eyes – over exaggerating it.

“I know you read it. The notebook,” he says, his tone harsh, "everyone would, because that’s who we are. It is in our nature to be curious and do something we would perhaps regret later, but also never admit to. You read my notebook. Or maybe even took a peak.”

Charles chances a glance at Carlos and he doesn’t look confused anymore, no. More like a little hurt, but also amused, which Charles thinks is the worst combination ever. Partly because how the fuck is it possible to have 2 contradicting emotions battling on your face, but mostly because what is Carlos hurt for?

“The curiosity got the best of you, yeah yeah, do not even apologise, I know it all. We’ve all been there,” Charles waves his hand, but he can feel his throat tightening and he mentally curses himself.

“I didn’t-“ Carlos starts, but then shuts his mouth and waits. Charles finds it weird. Guess he gave up on the excuses.

Charles sighs, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but to no avail, “just leave it. I know you don’t love me back, so there is no need to feel bad for me. God knows I am fed up with that sentiment,” he says and throws the notebook on his bed, turning away from Carlos, “can you just forget it and go now?”

It’s quiet, eerily. Charles is not sure if it has been minutes or hours, nor if Carlos is still there.

“Charles,” Carlos’ voice suddenly sounds way closer than before, “Charles,” he repeats, firmer now and he has no choice, but to turn to face his teammate.

Looking up into those eyes should come with a warning.

“I did not read your notebook. I really didn’t. I found it under the counter where you keep your helmets, when I was tying my shoes. I did not give it to you, because you were not in the garage, so I took it into my room. I wanted to give it to you in person, in case someone would be a jerk enough to read someone’s personal stuff,” Carlos says, emphasising the last part of the sentence.

Great, it’s safe to say Charles feels like shit now.

“Oh,” he says, averting his eyes, “so you really didn’t read it,” it’s phrased like a declarative sentence, not a question.

Carlos shakes his head still, which Charles can only see from his peripheral vision. He feels like dying because… because he just confessed without a need to do so. He's so stupid.

Big warm hands land on Charles’ cheeks and he has no choice, but to look back on Carlos’ handsome face, “can you tell me more about the love you mentioned?”

“No,” Charles whines automatically and Carlos has a nerve to chuckle. Charles’ head thunks against Carlos’ shoulder and he immediately feels Carlos’ hand in his hair.

“It’s okay,” Carlos whispers and Charles feels like crying, because here it is. The pity, the rejection he was so afraid of- “I love you too.”

Charles giggles and nuzzles his nose into Carlos’ neck. He stays there, breathing in Carlos’ scent when he suddenly realizes what the fuck he just said.

“What?” he abruptly moves away, almost shouting.

Carlos looks smug, with the slight smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes look soft. So soft and earnest Charles feels like his knees will give out from under him. It is all it takes to believe him, because he knows Carlos. He knows Carlos shows emotions through his eyes more than anyone else, because he’s seen it so many times it is integrated in his brain.

“You heard me,” he says and his smiles transforms from smug to soft and Charles launches.

Their lips crash and Charles puts every drop of his willpower into keeping himself on the ground and not climbing Carlos like a tree.

Kissing Carlos does not feel like anything he’s dreamed of, because nothing of sorts can compare to the real thing. Carlos starts slow, with careful closed mouth kisses that after a while start to frustrate Charles. He whines, to voice out his displeasure.

Carlos gets the memo and finally starts kissing him and Charles finds himself on cloud nine. He’s turned breathless as Carlos goes from slow, to vigorous open mouthed kisses, his tongue prodding at Charles’ lips to let him in. Charles moans, loudly, into Carlos’ mouth, sending a message of how much he’s loving it.

The tips of Carlos’ fingers run down Charles’ spine and a whimper falls from Charles’ mouth once Carlos grabs his ass, squeezing it. The action brings Charles closer. So close he can feel the outline of Carlos’ dick against his hip.

“Carlos,” he whimpers, his own hard dick rubbing against Carlos, “I need you.”

“Let’s take this to the bed, cariño,” Carlos breathes out, guiding Charles there before he was even done speaking.

Later, when they are lying in his bed, Charles’ head pillowed on Carlos’ shoulder, does Charles finally feel fully relaxed. Looking up at Carlos’ freckled face, his strong nose and big plump lips brings a strange sense of happiness and comfort to Charles.

(What doesn’t bring comfort, is the drying cum on his ass and thighs, but he is content enough to ignore it and stay in Carlos’ arms. For now).

“Why did you look so guilty on my doorstep?” Charles asks, not able to help himself. He needs to know, because the only explanation his brain could come up with back then was ‘Carlos is guilty’, which apparently was not true.

Carlos sighs, his fingertips slowing down their tracing on Charles’ back, “I know you were looking for your journal. Ricky messaged me.”

Charles is confused, “and?”

Charles giggles, the sound coming out of his mouth freely. Carlos kisses his forehead and Charles brings his hand up to Carlos’ jaw to caress it. He kisses his nose in return, then cheek and then finally his mouth.

“I could have given it to you back then or send it through someone. I was not back here yet,” he pauses and Charles says nothing. Leaving him space to continue whenever he wants, “but I was selfish. I wanted to give it back to you in private. I don’t really know why, “he resumes his stroking, his voice getting quieter, “perhaps I wanted an excuse to be with you alone.”

“I’m glad you did.”

#i am so sorry it took SO long. there is no excuse just that i had writer's block back then and then i forgot this was sent to me #i recently scrolled down my inbox and found it and inspo sky rocketed lol #eva writes #rpf #charlos #charlos fic #f1 rpf #cars #writing prompt

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thearchercore · 8 months ago

Note

to join in on your ice cream shop au, charles does these custom ice cream weekends every 2nd saturday or something (like a barbie one for when that movie released etc, where he made famous beetroot ice cream so much that now travel bloggers won't shut up about it)

during some month when it's not a race weekend, charles gets extremely sick and gets advised bed rest and his dramatic ass is pouting about it to max and how these events mean everything to him, and that tifosi are gonna cancel him for closing it on a weekend after the ferrari double dnf'ed (the cafe has become a therapy place for tifosi to get together and rant) etc and Max is like, baby why don't you let me do it along with joris and andrea, no need to close your shop and charles is like are you INSANE but max convinces him and then what happens that Saturday is only akin to guy coming to ask marriage permission from parents in olden society cause the tifosi judge him for EVERYTHING (in a funny way), they're like did you poison him, why are you here instead of taking care of our baby, etc etc and by the end of that time, max has begrudgingly make the tifosi deem him acceptable for charles to date

(the cafe has become a therapy place for tifosi to get together and rant) is SO REAL

also the tifosi claiming that max poisoned charles and that's why he's sick lol, you just know he'd be fighting for his life trying to defend himself and that he's worthy of dating charles.

plus you just know the tifosi would be Debriefing the race and blaming every inconvenience on the bulls but max would always be like "actually ☝️🤓" and he would get the biggest death stare whenever he would try to maxplain his side of the story that he'd just give up and let them spread propaganda and misinformation.

((and at the end of the day max would spend like an hour yapping to charles about how disgraceful the tifosi are and how they refused to listen to his opinions and how they kept being passive aggressive to him even though he tried))

#lestappen #ice cream shop au

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onlyonetifosi · 10 months ago

Text

BEHIND THE CAMERA -> CHAPTER 10

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

Inside Yn and Joris’ apartment it was not a peaceful morning as tension lingered in the air. Yn and Joris, had been on a rough patch for the past week. The constant arguments had created a palpable distance between them, but with the Grand Prix coming, they had no choice but to put their differences aside.

“Yn, do you have any idea where my passport is?” Joris called out, his irritation thinly veiled.

Yn glanced up, her eyes meeting his with an exasperated look. “I don't know, Joris. Maybe check your bag?”

Their bickering had escalated over the week, each disagreement building upon the last. The tension had reached its peak, yet neither of them was willing to address the underlying issues. The argument had started with a late-night return after a party, but it had spiraled into a series of disagreements over the smallest things. Forgotten housework became a battleground, and their once harmonious home now echoed with the sounds of discord.

"Joris, we can't keep going on like this," she said in French, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

He shot her a sharp look, his response equally sharp, "Maybe if you took things more seriously, we wouldn't have to."

Yn sighed as she packed her bags, glancing at Joris who was doing the same. "We can't let our personal issues affect Charles and the team," she muttered, her tone strained.

Joris nodded, avoiding eye contact. "We'll get through this weekend, and then we can talk."

In the airport, Charles Leclerc greeted his sister with a smile, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between Yn and Joris. As they joined the Ferrari team, Andrea, Charles' trainer and friend, noticed the strained atmosphere.

"Yn, abbiamo notato qualcosa di strano ultimamente. Tutto a posto tra te e Joris?" (Yn, we've noticed something strange lately. Everything okay between you and Joris?) Andrea asked, concern etched across his face.

Yn hesitated, glancing at Joris before responding, "No, tutto bene. Siamo solo stanchi (No, everything's fine. We're just tired)"

Andrea, however, wasn't easily fooled "Non sembra solo stanchezza. Cosa sta succedendo?" (It doesn't seem like just tiredness. What's going on?) "Ricorda, siamo una famiglia qui. Se c'è qualcosa che va male, parliamone" (Remember, we're a family here. If something is wrong, let's talk about it)

Yn sighed, "Abbiamo litigato. Ma non vogliamo distrarre Charles e il team, quindi stiamo cercando di risolvere tutto privatamente." (We had a fight. But we don't want to distract Charles and the team, so we're trying to sort it out privately.)

Andrea nodded knowingly, his dark eyes showing empathy. "Ricordati che la comunicazione è la chiave. Parlatene prima che diventi troppo grande." (Remember, communication is key. Talk about it before it becomes too big)

Despite Andrea's advice, Yn and Joris continued to maintain a façade of normalcy. The strain persisted until even Charles couldn't ignore the palpable tension.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe, Joris?" (What's going on, Joris?) Charles inquired, sensing the discomfort.

Joris hesitated before responding, "Rien, Charles. Juste quelques désaccords." (Nothing, Charles. Just a few disagreements.)

Charles wasn't convinced but chose not to push further. The trio continued their work, managing to maintain a facade of normalcy in front of the rest of the team.

As the weekend unfolded, the tension lingered beneath the surface, affecting their efficiency. Andrea, however, wasn't one to let things slide.

"Non potete continuare così. Risolvete i vostri problemi, le vostre energie negative non aiutano né voi né Charles" (You can't go on like this, sort out your problems. Your negative energies help neither you nor Charles)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the morning sun bathed the hotel room in a warm glow on Sunday morning, Yn couldn't help but feel a heaviness in her heart. Yn sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror. She adjusted her makeup, trying to find solace in the routine. Joris, sitting on the bed, was scrolling through his phone, seemingly engrossed in something that wasn't the current situation.

"Joris, nous devons parler" (Joris, we need to talk) Yn spoke up for the first time that day.

"Peut-on le faire plus tard? Nous avons déjà assez de problèmes." (Can we do it later? We already have enough issues) Joris glanced up to look at her across the room, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

"Non, Joris. C'est assez. Je ne peux pas continuer comme ça" (No, Joris. It's enough. I can't go on like this)

Their eyes met in the mirror, and a heavy silence lingered for a moment.

"Je m'ennuie de toi" (I miss you) Yn starts as she feels her eyes getting teary of the frustration she has had for more than a week.

Joris put his phone down, looking genuinely surprised by Yn's vulnerability.

Joris met her gaze, his expression softening "Yn, je suis désolé pour tout. Les disputes, c'était idiot. Je ne voulais pas que ça dure aussi longtemps" (Yn, I'm sorry for everything. The arguments were foolish. I didn't want it to last this long)

Yn nodded, a tear escaping her eye "Moi non plus. J'ai manqué de sommeil cette semaine, et je ne pouvais pas être en colère contre toi plus longtemps. Tu m'as manqué" (Me neither. I've been sleep-deprived this week, and I couldn't stay angry at you any longer. I missed you)

They both apologized, acknowledging their faults, and gradually the weight of the week began to lift. Joris reached out and touched Yn's hand, "Je suis désolée" (I'm sorry)

"Tu es magnifique, Yn. As always" (You look beautiful, Yn) Joris complimented her.

"Merci, Joris. You don't look too bad yourself," Yn replied with a teasing smile.

Their eyes locked, and the weight of the past week seemed to lift. Yn and Joris shared a tender moment of reconciliation, their unspoken words mending the fractures in their relationship. Without a word, they closed the gap between them and shared a heartfelt kiss, the first in what felt like an eternity.

As Yn and Joris emerged from their room, hand in hand, the team members noticed the change in their demeanor. Charles grinned, nudging his sister and best friend. "Looks like our favorite couple has made up."

As they made their way to the hotel buffet for breakfast, the other members of the Leclerc entourage couldn't help but notice the change in the atmosphere.

"Siete tornati insieme?" (Are you back together?)

Yn nodded with a shy smile, "Sì, Andrea. Abbiamo risolto le cose." (Yes, Andrea. We sorted things out.)

Andrea clapped Joris on the back, "Sono felice per voi!" (I'm happy for you!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they headed to the race track, the camaraderie between Yn and Joris was evident. Charles, with a smirk, teased, "Finally remembered how to get along?"

Yn playfully nudged her brother, "Shut up, Charles. Today is about winning, and we're all in this together"

As the race unfolded, Charles displayed his skill on the track, and the Leclerc family watched with pride from the pit. The cheers of the team members echoed through the air as Charles crossed the finish line, securing a victory.

In the celebration that followed, Andrea embraced Yn and Joris, "Sono felice che vi siate riconciliati. La squadra ha bisogno di armonia" (I'm glad you reconciled. The team needs harmony)

taglist: @love4lando@gcldtom@im-mi@topguncultleader@celesteblack08@reblog-princess@sunf1ower16@janeholt3@athena-artemis-dorian-gray@minkyungseokie

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elisysd · 4 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Masterlist - Previously

Monaco - May 2024

“Charles Leclerc is the Monaco Grand Prix winner!”

The room erupted in cheers and cries. Hugs were met in awkward embraces while tears were streaming down his loved ones faces. Years of hard work and sacrifices finally paid off. And it was so worth it. He could feel his own tears on his cheeks but he didn’t care. That win mattered more than any others. Frantically he searched for his team on the side and ran towards them. Arthur was crying, Lorenzo was not far from doing so, Joris was a happy mess, Andrea was beaming with pride but the only face that truly mattered to him was so far in the back that the only thing he could notice was the hair and the sunglasses perched above. He tried to tell everyone to move so you could make your way to him but no one was hearing him and far too soon he was dragged away from the red sea acclaiming him like the hometown hero he was.

On the podium, he tried to engrave every sensation he was feeling. The sun on his face, the cool breeze making its way under the monegasque flag resting around his shoulders, the applause and chants from the crowd. When he opened his eyes, he met almost immediately yours. You were there, next to his mom who was keeping her hand in yours. You had cried and maybe you were still doing so.

It hadn’t been a walk in the park for both of you since Abu Dhabi. You had moved back to Paris and had been swamped by work and opportunities. The podcast had taken off very well and you knew you partly had Charles to thank for that. It was going on so well that your old boss had come crawling back to you, trying to persuade you to sell the projects to the channel so it could have a broader audience. You politely declined the offer but not without asking Jean and Marion if they were interested in working with you. Your new goal was to expand the coverage to Formula 2 and Formula 3. Moto GP was also a target, but you couldn’t do it on your own, especially since Susie Wolff had offered you to partner with the F1 Academy. And besides the podcast, you also had a Youtube channel where you were broadcasting reports and soon a website. A lot of work that you couldn’t achieve all alone. Jean and Marion hadn’t given a lot of thought to the project, accepting almost immediately, eager and enthusiastic to work with you again.

Needless to say that you had barely enough time for your personal life. But it didn’t matter, you were managing it. Whenever Charles had time, he was coming to Paris and you were trying your best to fit him in your schedule. Your relationship with Charles was going slowly but you both didn’t mind. You were taking your time, truly getting to know one another in every way possible to the point that now you could say you were knowing his soul by heart. And he could say the same about you. All was well.

You were waiting near the hospitality where Charles was going to arrive any minute now. You couldn’t wait to see him, especially since you had good news to tell him. You had kept it for yourself for a while now, waiting for the right opportunity to tell him. If Monaco was working out, it would have been an added bonus and if it didn’t, it would have been nice comforting news. You were glad it was the first option.

He finally came through the door, hair a mess and his trophy firmly pressed against his chest.

“Congrats, champ!” you said as you put a hand on his cheek.

“I did it. I finally did it. Can you believe it?”

“I do. Because I always had faith in you and in your talent.”

“Not always,” he winked, giving you a slow kiss, shushing you as you were about to reply.

“I have something to tell you,” you slowly said, both hands laid flat against his chest as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in.

Charles took your hands in his, guiding you towards the sofa as he gave you a worried look.

“It’s not bad,” you quickly reassured him. “On the contrary, I think it will make you happy,” you paused before continuing. “With how much the podcast and everything revolving around it grows, I thought it was time to search for offices. That way, it will be easier to separate my professional life with the personal one. I need it. And maybe it will be the occasion to recruit some new people. And I found ones which I really loved. I signed the lease on Friday, so I guess it is official.”

Charles gulped, unsure of what to say. On one hand, he was happy for you, truly. He loved seeing you going for things you were passionate about. But at the same time, it was hard to see you building your life so far away from him.

“I’m glad, that’s nice,” he managed to say.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you will love them.”

“I have no doubt. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to travel to Paris to see them, though.”

“That’s a good thing, they are in Monaco, then,” you winked as his mouth was opening and closing in disbelief.

“Monaco? But… how? Why? When?”

“Because I wanna get closer to you. I want to see you more and have more time for us. I think that if I’m there, it will be easier to find the right balance. As much as I don’t like the idea of delegating, I know that I need to. And if it results from being by your side more than a few days a month, then I think it’s only right to take that step. And who doesn’t want to have a view of the sea from the office?”

Charles was at a loss for words. He had so many questions to ask but didn’t know where to start.

“So you’re leaving Paris?”

“I do. I found an apartment in Menton. And who knows, if everything goes to plan, maybe in a few months, we can move in together.”

It was not the first time the subject was dropping but you had quickly come to an agreement that you both needed to find the right pace in your relationship and as long as you were comfortable by being the way you were, there was no need to rush anything. And as you both had discussed it, the day you would move in together, it would be in a neutral place where no bad and bitter memories were living in the walls.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he asked, stars in his eyes, cradling your face.

“I know, I am. But I can only be amazing if you are as well. And you, Charles Leclerc, you are the most perfectly imperfect man I’ve come across. I love you today, tomorrow and for as long as you will want me.”

“Then, I hope you are ready for forever,” he smiled.

“Even forever doesn’t seem long enough.”

Author's note: What a ride it has been but the final word has been written down. Again, thank you for everything and your support. Genuinely, I think that if you hadn't been there motivating me, this story wouldn't have been finished and I would have given up a long time ago. So thanks you. This story is more yours than it ever been mine. Thank you for bearing with me and the messy schedule upload. Until next time and until then, I will take a few weeks of rest while preparing the next story. I'll post snippet soon.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

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jessicaloons · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 31:

I watched it begin again…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Info: in this story, Mattia Binotto is 2023 still team principle of Ferrari; Fred Vasseur will take over in 2024!

"I thought we’re here to train…" I mumbled and plopped down in an armchair in front of the huge fireplace of the ski resort we were staying in.

"We just want a little footage of your training!" Elijah said "Just one more day and we’ll be gone, I promise!"

He walked away and I sighed, right as Charles sat down next to me, a frown on his face.

"What’s wrong?" I sat up and looked at him.

"Nothing." he said and I raised an eyebrow "Okay… so umm. Someone from the factory, who works on the new car said it’s made to fit Carlos’ driving style. And I kinda knew that already. Mattia said that they will switch between my preferences and his, but the guy said it’s like completely accustomed to Carlos’ driving style. Not just tending more towards his preferences."

"So the car is completely made for him? That’s what you’re saying?" I asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I don’t know. Maybe it’s not that bad at all?"

"You wouldn’t be this worried if that wouldn’t be that bad at all…" I stated matter of factly.

"I don’t know. I have to drive it first. But yeah… it kinda worries me." he sighed.

"So you were closer than ever on winning the championship last year, but instead of continuing this momentum they designed a car for him? Who gave a flying fuck about his team in more than one race last year? Cool." I shook my head.

"You guys coming?" JK said behind us and I nodded.

"You know what? You’re right! You have to drive it first." I smiled at Charles encouraging and got up, pulling him with me "Now come on. I’m starving!"

We followed Andrea, JK, Joris and Antoine to the restaurant and sat down. I could see how tense Charles was the whole evening. Trying his best to not show how worried he really was, but whenever he smiled it didn’t quite reach his eyes and he was more quiet than usually. Whenever the others started to talk about the upcoming season I tried my best to change topics, not wanting to add onto Charles already growing anxiety. But when we were back in our hotel room and he sat down on the sofa, staring outside, not saying anything I sat down next to him.

"Charles?" I took his hand in mine and he looked up "Talk to me. What’s going on? It’s not just that the car might be more suitable for Carlos… that’s something you can work with, I know you! There’s more… come on!"

He looked out the window again, closing his eyes for a moment before he turned his head.

"There’s something going on at Ferrari… with Carlos and his family. I don’t know what, but last year, I was too early for a meeting and walked into the room with Mattia, Laurent, Carlos, his dad, his cousin and two Spaniards I knew from somewhere, but I just didn’t know where from… well yeah they all stared at me like I interrupted a secret meeting and the two Spaniards left then immediately. Mia found out that these two are from Santander… what would they have to talk about? Then I heard some mechanics talk about the pressure on Ferrari from Santander to deliver the right result, that was after Monza…"

"Which you won?" I added and he nodded.

"Yeah, so I wasn’t sure what that meant… I often saw Carlos’ dad and his cousin talking to Mattia and Laurent, in the corner of the garage, like they wanted no one listening? Maybe I’m just paranoid? Maybe there’s nothing big going on… but I don’t know… sometimes I feel like I’m fighting my own team…" he sighed.

"Because you are, sometimes at least… last year were so many awfully wrong strategy calls, mostly for you and whenever you said something you were silenced. Just look at Silverstone, how Mattia treated you afterwards when you were rightfully frustrated with them letting Carlos do whatever he wanted and then giving him the better strategy! They took away a win from your hands." I said and he leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes "I don’t like criticising Ferrari constantly, but I had to do it, because they fucked up, again and again and unfortunately mostly your races…"

We sat in silence for a while, Charles deep in his thoughts and me rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

"I can see it, you know? Every time you criticise Ferrari. Your eyes giving it away. You hate it. It hurts you. But I know why you do it. For me." Charles looked into my eyes, almost as if he was looking into my soul.

"I will always love Ferrari. I will always be a fan deep down in my heart. That won’t change. It’s our dream. Always was." I whispered and he nodded, kissing my forehead.

"And in another life. Another universe. We would live our dream. Together. But in this world, this team isn’t ready for a female driver. They’re not ready for you. They’re still stuck in their old fashioned ways. It sucks that the gender of a driver plays a bigger part than the talent of them."

"It doesn’t matter. You made it. And I made it as well. Different. But still." I smiled and he tilted my head up, his eyes locking on mine.

"Exactly. We both made it. We both drive in Formula 1. We both are F1 race winners. And this year we both fight for the championship! A new season begins and we will be better than ever!" he was determined and I nodded.

"Hell yes we will!"

After three more days of powering through work out sessions and training in the snow it was time to head to Neuburg, or in Charles case Maranello. I was excited to see the new car, see the new developments and was keen on getting into the simulator first things first. But the first days were filled with sponsor meetings, analysing the data of the last season, seat fitting and photo shoots with our new race suit and team kits. After the last photoshoot Julie signalled me to follow her and she brought us to one of the lounge rooms.

"Here, I’ve got something for you…" she smiled as we walked inside "Fan letters."

"Fan letters?"

"Fan letters!" Julie repeated and pointed at the box on the table.

"And they’re all for me?" I asked, eyes wide.

"Yup. And don’t worry, we checked them all through. It’s just letters and some gifts."

"Checked them? Who am I? You really think people care enough about me to send me what? A letter bomb?" I chuckled but Julie just shrugged.

"Better safe than sorry. You don’t have to open all of them. Just pick out some and we’ll film a little clip."

"No! Are you kidding me? People took some time out of their day to write me! I will read every single one!" I shook my head and sat down, grabbing the first letter "I have nothing else to do anyways!"

"Alright. I’ll check in later to film you. Have fun."

I only nodded and already read the first letter. I was touched by all the sweet and kind messages from fans all over the world, opening letter after letter. I opened up the next one, pulled the paper out of the envelope and as soon as I read the letter I dropped it. That couldn’t be. How could he know that I would read all my fan letters? How could he be so sure I would pick his letter out of the hundred or more in front of me. I crumbled up the piece of paper. Grabbing the next letter. Trying to get rid of that sickening feeling inside my stomach. Just to be gutted again, three letters later. I checked the envelope of the first letter, it was the same. Frantically searching through the box I found another 41 letters, 43 in total. I ripped them open. The letter was the same in every single one:

Happy New Year, Lizzie.

2022 was only the beginning…

This year I’m coming for everything if you won’t do what I say.

I didn’t need a name to know who wrote the letters. Salva Diaz. It was too quiet after Japan. He didn’t try to contact me in any way. Didn’t post anything about me. He went radio silent. And a gullible and optimistic part of me thought it was over. He had enough of this cat and mouse play. But of course I was wrong. So wrong. I stuffed the envelops frantically in my bag, when I heard Julie approaching, putting on a fake smile.

"Alright, let’s pick out some nice ones and open them, read them through, show it to the camera a little, say something to your fans and then that’s it." she said and I nodded, doing exactly what she said.

"This one here is from Nicole, 9 years old from Denmark. Thank you for your sweet words! And thank you even more for this beautiful drawing." I turned the letter so Julie could film the picture of the little girl "I will put it in my drivers room!" I opened up the next one, two bracelets falling out, along with a letter, I read it and smiled "Thank you Celeste! I make sure Charles gets his bracelet!" I showed Julie the two matching bracelets and slipped one over my wrist "I love it!" I picked two more letters and Julie was happy, stopping the filming.

"Perfect! You’re officially dismissed for today. Tomorrow you’ll be in the simulator, Pete wanted me to let you know! See you tomorrow, Lizzie!" she smiled and left.

I grabbed my stuff and left the factory immediately. Making my way to the hotel room. Pacing back and forth. I had to focus on the preparations of the new season, but instead my head was in shambles about what Diaz wanted exactly from me. His banning from the paddock was his own fault, I couldn’t do anything about it anymore and he knew it. What did he want now? As I racked my brain about what he could want from me, my phone rang and I flinched. Charles. I took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the sickening feeling inside my stomach that followed me back from the factory, after I opened up the first letter of Diaz.

"Hey Charlie bear." my voice overly sweet.

"Ewww. No. Absolutely not. Stop calling me that!" he laughed and I sat down "How are you? How’s the new car?"

"I’m okay. A little tired. The last days were draining… but I haven’t been in the simulator or anything till now. Tomorrow though, I’ll give it a go. What about your car?" I asked and he sighed.

"Hmm. Not so sure. It’s a bit too early to give a final answer? It looks okayish? I’m worried about the rear though… I don’t know. I haven’t driven it as of now, so yeah." his voice not really confident.

"We all know that Carlos likes understeery cars, whereas you’re more into oversteery ones… I honestly don’t know how they want to compromise on that?"

"We’ll see I guess."

"Hmm. I’m just happy that Valtteri and I prefer both an oversteer car…" I sighed.

"I would love to have you as my teammate! Our driving style is so similar and we both have the same preferences when it comes to our car set up." he chuckled a little although I knew that he wasn’t just joking around.

"I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe the car isn’t that bad? You just wait sunshine, you just wait!"

"Very funny." he laughed and I did as well "I can’t believe that it’s already almost time to pack up and leave for Bahrain."

"Yeah… in a week we will present our cars, then do some more testings and then it’s go time… I’m just sorry that we won’t be here for Liams birthday." I mumbled.

"Yeah, that sucks… but he’s a big boy, he understands!" Charles tried to cheer me up a little.

"I know, but still. I will see him on Benjis birthday though. Dad said they will come here."

"You know that I’m trying to come as well! But as of now, I’m not so sure I can make it…" he sounded defeated.

"It’s okay. No one’s mad or anything."

"Okay." he sighed "I gotta go now, sponsor dinner, yay… I’ll text you later, okay?"

"Alright. I would say have fun, but I know you won’t, so… I hope it won’t take too long!" I said encouragingly "Oh and Charles? Let’s wait until you tested the car. Maybe it will surprise you and will be good in the end. You never know."

"I hope you’re right, cara mia!"

I waited for Charles in the car park, taking selfies with some fans, signing shirts and caps when I saw him approaching. Head hung low, hair messy, no team shirt or cap on. He tried to draw as little attention as possible, just wanted to leave the track.

"Thank you guys! Have an amazing night!" I smiled at the fans and unlocked the car, getting inside. I drove straight up to Charles and ushered him inside, then I turned around and drove by the baffled fans, screaming for Charles.

"Thank you." he whispered and leaned back in his seat, looking outside.

I didn’t reply, only took his hand in mine and squeezed it.

"The tests looked so promising, even though I’m not entirely comfortable in the car. It looked good… the start? Amazing. Our pace didn’t match with that of Red Bull so Checo overtaking me was just a matter of time… but still. P3 would be a good result in a car that doesn’t suit me much… and then? Poof. Mechanical failure. Nice one. Good start of the season that was supposed to be our season!" he ranted after a while "And I thought quali yesterday was bad."

"It’s only the first race of a very long season, Charles! Focus on the positive things! The car doesn’t suit your driving style, you’re not really comfortable in it, but you still managed to start from P3! You overtook Checo right at the start and held onto that P2 for 26 laps! You would’ve finished that race on the podium if not for the car being a bitch! That was just a small bump on the road! In two weeks you’ll be back on top again!" I stopped the car and looked at him "Now come on. I’m hungry and we have now two weeks off!" I got out of the car, handing over my keys and waited for Charles to follow me "Let’s not think about the race for now, okay?"

"Okay…" he sighed dramatically and grabbed my hand, pulling me to his side, when some fans recognised us "Well it looks like our midnight snack has to wait…"

I woke up to the smell of some delicious food and clattering sounds from the kitchen. I turned around, searching blindly for my phone on the nightstand. 11:27. I sat up immediately. I couldn’t remember a day where I slept that long. Swinging my legs off of the bed I stretched. Feeling a little tense after the first race weekend of the season. I made my way into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water, brushing my teeth. When I stepped out again I grabbed Charles hoodie and pulled it over my head, following his cursing into the kitchen. He stood in his sweatpants only at the stove, his back to me. The kitchen island full of pastries, bread rolls, fruit salad, plates full of cheese, honey and jam, a huge stack of pancakes and waffles. A full buffet of all of my favourite breakfast items. Even a jug full of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"If the food tastes as great as the cook looks… mhhh delicious!" I teased and Charles flinched.

"Fucking hell." he whispered underneath his breath and turned around "I wanted to surprise you!" he pouted a little and I smiled sheepishly as he turned off the stove, walking around the island and pulled me into his arms "Happy birthday, cara mia." he whispered in my ear and kissed my temple "Well, I made breakfast…"

"Oh no you didn’t? Really?" I laughed and he pinched my hip "Thank you Charlie bear. It looks amazing! All of it!" I kissed his cheek and he smiled.

"And don’t worry! I also made eggs!" he laughed and walked back to the stove, shovelling the scrambled eggs into a bowl, setting it down in front of me.

"You are perfect! And I’m impressed! Look at what you did! And my kitchen is still fully intact! You didn’t burn down the building! Nothing looks burned! Amazing job, I’d say!"

"I tried my best for you! And now come on! Cooking makes hungry!" he poured me some orange juice and I loaded up my plate.

"So we’re having a cheat day today…" I chuckled and Charles shrugged his shoulders.

"I won’t tell JK if you’re not telling Andrea."

I looked at him for a moment, trying the pancakes that were surprisingly good and nodded.

"You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister!"

After having a little from everything, I was full and shoved my plate away, looking over at Charles, who smiled at me.

"You go ahead and take a long shower, or maybe a bath? I take care of the kitchen and then we can do whatever you want to, I only reserved us a table for later tonight, at Antonio’s. So you tell me what you want to do." he stood up and I thought for a moment.

"How about we just have a nice and relaxed day and stay in? Watching a movie? Doing some bed activities?" I wiggled my eyebrows and Charles smirked.

"Sounds good to me… maybe I’ll join you under the shower when I’m done here, when you take your time…" he kissed my cheek and I got up, stretching a little.

"I think that can be arranged." I smiled and walked back into my bedroom "But don’t take too long, or I’m starting without you…"

"Don’t you dare, cara mia!"

"As much as I enjoyed this… but I think we should get up and dress up! Your phone almost explodes and mine as well… they’re all asking why you’re not picking up, they want to congratulate you." Charles laughed.

"Text them we’re busy. We want to start round four!" I groaned and he leaned over me.

"Let’s get up. I’ll give you your present and then you can FaceTime Liam, he insists on seeing you, and then after that… we can go for round four, maybe five? Depends on how fast we are…" he nudged my nose with his and I sighed.

"Okay…" he smiled and kissed the tip of my nose, before he pushed himself up, walking into the bathroom "What a cute little butt." I purred and he turned around "But that front view…" I whistled and Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Cara mia, you are a greedy, little minx! Get your cute little ass out of bed now and dress up!" he chuckled and I got out of bed, following him.

"I need a little shower as well, I’ll join you." I got in behind him and he groaned.

"You’re making this really not that easy for me…" he turned around and I laughed.

"I just wanted to take a shower?" I tried to look as innocent as possible at him and he burst out laughing.

"That won’t work!" he gently pushed me against the tiles, kissing my neck down to my collarbone, all the way up on the other side. I moaned a little, grabbing his hair as he kissed along my jaw, when he suddenly pulled away and opened the door, stepping outside. Leaving me heavily breathing against the wall "I told you it won’t work." he smirked, wrapping a towel around his hip, leaving the bathroom.

"That was unfair!" I shouted but only heard him laughing. Frustrated I washed myself and then got out and dressed up. Walking back into the living room where Charles sat on the sofa, waiting for me. He patted the space next to him and I sat down.

"Happy birthday, cara mia!" he said again, kissing my cheek and handing me a little red box.

I opened the box and found a necklace, very fine and subtle, just the way I liked it, a little pendant attached with what looked like...

"Coordinates?" I asked and looked up and Charles smiled.

"Yeah…" he answered and I took my phone out "It’s where everything began…"

I opened Google Maps and typed the coordinates in. 47°34'19.5"N 7°21'57.2"E

The karting track in Sundgau. Where we met for the very first time. In April 2006.

"Charles…" I almost choked up and looked at him.

"Turn it around…" he said and with a shaking hand I turned the pendant.

Where my forever began. 8/4/2006. 08:37.

"You remembered the time?" I sniffled and he nodded.

"I remember everything…" he whispered and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. I closed the distance between us and kissed him "I take from that, you like it?"

"I love it, that’s a difference. Big difference! Merci, mon cœur!" I hugged him and he chuckled a little.

"But that’s not all…" he said after a moment and I sighed.

"Of course it’s not…" I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You know me just too well!" he laughed and got up "Okay, for this one you have to close your eyes!"

"Okay?" I did as told and closed my eyes, waiting for Charles signal to open them again.

"SURPRISE!" a lot of voices screamed and I opened my eyes, right in time for Liam and Benji to tackle me into the pillows of my sofa.

"Happy Birthday!" they both kissed my cheeks and I hugged them close, looking up at my parents, Sissy, Shima and the two Daniels.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked and got up, leaving the boys on the sofa.

"It’s your birthday?" Mum said and hugged me "Happy birthday, sweetheart." she kissed my cheek.

"My turn now!" Dad pushed Mum gently away and pulled me in his arms, almost crushing me "Happy birthday, my little owl! I don’t care how old you’re turning! For me, you’ll always be my little girl!"

"Thanks Pops!" I whispered and he pulled away, kissing my head.

"Thank you guys so much!" I smiled at them, once everyone had congratulated me, and then looked at Charles who stood at the kitchen island, a beautiful cake on display, sparklers sparkling away. He waved me over and as soon as I stood next to him they all began to sing, the door opening, Arthur and Pascale arriving with some bottles of champagne. I smiled and wiped a tear from my cheek. Together with Charles I blower the candles out and they all cheered for me, while Dad and Danny Ric opened up the champagne, pouring everyone a glass.

"Lizzie, my sweet girl, happy birthday!" Pascale kissed both my cheeks and hugged me.

"Thank you so much for coming! All of you!" I smiled and Arthur pulled me to his side, kissing my cheek.

"Happy birthday, Lizzie." he smiled and I bumped my hip a little against his.

"Thanks Arthi!"

"Who wants some cake?" Charles asked and Liam and Benji jumped excitedly up and down "Alright, two slices for the boys, coming right up."

"Biiiig slices!" Benji said and Liam nodded.

"We’re going out for dinner later on! So no biiiig slices!" Sissy said and they pouted a little.

"Okaaaaay."

"We’re are we going?" Arthur asked and I looked at Charles.

"Still Antonio’s! Don’t worry!" he chuckled and I smiled. He knew me all too well. Birthday dinner at Antonio’s was an old tradition of ours. It didn’t matter when we got the time to go, but always around our birthdays we would have dinner there. With a full stomach and a content smile on my face I rummaged through my kitchen drawers, looking for a lighter when I finally found one. I lit up the candle and walked over to the sofa, where Charles was sitting, zapping through the channels. As he saw me approaching he looked up and choked.

"Cara mia…" he whispered as I sat the cupcake, a golden H and a single lit up candle on it, down on the coffee table in front of me.

"It’s not just my birthday…" I said quietly and cupped his cheek, wiping away a stray tear "Come on. Together. Like he always let us do it…"

"Happy Birthday, Papa." Charles whispered and we blew out the candle. We watched the smoke dissolve into thin air and he turned his head, looking at me "Thank you, Lizzie." then he kissed me gently, before pulling me into a tight hug.

"Happy Birthday, Hervé."

"Lizzie, your season started not as good as last year, from podium to barely into the points. Was the good start last season maybe just beginners luck?" the first question of the day and I already was over it.

"Last year I had a bit of luck, with the cars in front of me having some issues. This year I had to start from P17 after I got impeded and failed to set a good time. So I’d say from P17 to P10 is not that bad." I tried to stay as calm as possible.

"Your boyfriend didn’t have the best start as well, with retiring from a podium place?"

"No, he didn’t."

"And this weekend he has to already serve a ten place grid penalty because he needed a new ICE?"

"First of all, he didn’t need a new ICE, he needed new control electronics. And second, is there a question in this statement for me to answer?" I was more than annoyed at this point.

"How does he feel?"

"Delighted." I inwardly rolled my eyes "But you know what? Why don’t you ask him that yourself? Yeah? Thank you!" I walked away and Julie sighed "Sorry."

"No it’s fine. That dude was an idiot. We wait for Sky UK." she looked ahead and I nodded "Alright. Let’s go." we walked over and fortunately the questions weren’t as stupid as the ones from before and I even joked a little with Nathalie Pinkham.

"Alright. That’s it for today." Julie lead me away and I was more than happy to leave the media pen.

"Thank god. Another question about my beginners luck last season and I would’ve lost it…" I sighed and she patted my arm.

"Yeah some idiots always have to ask stupid questions… funny that it’s mostly just men…" she shrugged her shoulders and I chuckled.

"I wonder why… although the interviewer from Canal+ was also a little… well yeah you know what I mean." I chuckled.

"Shitty? Bitchy? Annoying?" Julie laughed.

"All of that."

"Did she ask one question about this weekend?"

"Nope, not a single one. Only about Charles and I." I rolled my eyes.

"You do the talking on track, as always!" Julie nudged my shoulder and I laughed.

"I will try."

"So P12 for Charles, which means P2 for you tomorrow." Crafty smiled and I nodded.

"Yeah. A shame really. He did amazing though and I’m sure he’ll be catching up quickly."

"Just like Max?"

"Just like Max, from P15? Yeah? P15."

"The Audi looked a little more unpredictable around here than expected? What’s in for you tomorrow?"

"We’ll see I guess. We’re lacking race pace. That’s our biggest issue. Also our tyre management might be a factor."

"Thank you Lizzie!"

I walked to Charles, who was waiting for me, pulling me to his side.

"You did amazing! Don’t worry about the penalty, you’ll make up for it." I smiled at him and he sighed.

"Yeah, if my car makes it to the finish line." he chuckled a little.

"Don’t worry, I’ll push you over it."

"Thank you! How very nice of you!" he kissed my cheek and then pulled away "See you later?"

"Yup. I’ll wait for you. Your meetings always take way longer than ours…" I teased.

"That’s because we are a Top 3 team." he winked.

"Ouch. Although I’d say that’s because you talk about all the strategies you could fuck up…"

"Okay, I kinda deserved that." he laughed and squeezed my hand one last time before he walked away.

"How’s he doing?" Felix asked as soon as I entered the garage.

"Surprisingly good."

Felix cocked an eyebrow and I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Maybe he’s the Ferrari we have to be worried about tomorrow then?" he chuckled right as Valtteri entered the garage.

"Don’t worry, I’ll hold him up for a while!" he nudged my shoulder and I laughed.

"I’m more worried about Max. He’s seething! And when there’s one thing you don’t want behind you, it’s a pissed off Max. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about…"

"A pissed off Max was often behind you then back in karting?" Valtteri asked.

"More often than he would like to admit." I wiggled my eyebrows "Mostly because he was Mad Max and got penalties left and right… but anyways."

They laughed and we walked back together to discuss our strategy for the race ahead.

I got off the scooter and walked the rest up to our garage, frustration seeping through me. I pulled my helmet off and apologised to the team before I sat down for a moment, emptying an entire bottle of water.

"Ready?" Julie asked and I nodded, following her into the media pen. When I walked in, I clapped Alex on the shoulder and he turned around.

"What was that?" he asked and I just shrugged my shoulders, shaking my head.

"Lizzie. Sky UK first." Julie nudged ne towards Rachel Brooks and she smiled at me.

"Hey, Lizzie. Sorry to see you here already. Can you tell us what happened there?"

"I honestly don’t know? The most experienced driver on the grid totally misjudged the space he left me and clipped my front wing. Wouldn’t be that bad but the endplate got stuck under my front suspension so I had to retire. It’s a shame, really. I was doing quite good after the pit stop, making my way through the field, maybe this weekend a podium would’ve been possible… it’s like this. I can’t change it now unfortunately."

"There was a bit of confusion as it seemed, whether or not you should continue and come back to the pits or retire?"

"Yeah, the plate hit a sensor so the data the pit wall had was a bit confusing at first. But retiring was the best option, to avoid further damage."

"Your overall feedback of this weekend?"

"It’s still early in the season, but the feeling of the car was better this weekend. The pace was there, the tyre deg was better. I’d say we’re going in the right direction."

"Thank you Lizzie! See you in Australia!" Rachel smiled and I switched to the next interview, doing a full round and then returned back to the garage, 15 laps still to go. I unzipped my suit and rolled it down around my waist, taking the head phones Matt was offering me. Charles was doing his best to make it through the grid. But the pace just wasn’t there to get any further than P7 in the end. When he climbed out of his car I saw the disappointment on his face. Our team meeting wasn’t taking that long, Valtteri brought home some points for us, finishing in P8, but other than that there wasn’t too much to talk about. When I left, it was surprisingly Charles who waited for me at the car, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"That was fucked. Didn’t he see you?" he sighed and I shrugged.

"I don’t know. You heard him. It’s a racing incident, he shouldn’t even get a penalty in his opinion… so yeah." I said as Charles opened my door and closing it as soon as I was inside.

"Typical." Charles mumbled as he got in the car as well "You wanna go out tonight? Or stay in?"

"I don’t know. Honestly I’m not in the mood to socialise? It’s just so annoying! When one thing works out, some shit happens during the race. It’s a fucking circle."

"Staying in it is." Charles chuckled.

"No! If you want to go out, then go! Really! I can stay alone!" I looked at him.

"I was honestly hoping you would say you want to stay in…" he said sheepishly, grabbing my thigh "Our hotel has this huge infinity pool on the roof. It’s open 24/7 but at this time it’s mostly empty because it’s only accessible from the VIP floors. So what do you say? You. Me. A little midnight swim?"

"I don’t have a swimsuit with me…" I sighed and Charles squeezed my thigh.

"Who says you need one."

"Thanks man, I really appreciate it!" Charles thanked the hotel employee and the doors were closed. I watched how he walked up the stairs to the terrace with a smug smile on his face "The roof is ours for the next hours."

"I’m not even going to ask how you did that…" I chuckled, pulling the bathrobe tighter around my body "I honestly didn’t expect it to be this windy and fresh in the middle of the desert."

"Well, it’s the middle of the night." Charles chuckled and walked towards the bar, leaning over and pulling out a bottle of champagne and a bowl full of strawberries.

"You’re full of surprises, Mr. Leclerc." I said as he plopped down next to me, feeding me a strawberry.

"I try to impress you whenever I can…" he leaned in, his lips ghosting over mine "What do you say? Fancy a little swim?"

"Hmm… absolutely." I put my lips on his, sharing the taste of strawberries.

Charles cupped my cheek with one hand, while the other snaked down, pulling at the bathrobe string, untying the knot I made. When it fell open he slid his hand inside and I flinched a little, his hand cold from carrying the champagne bottle. He smirked and tugged at my bottom lip, before pushing the bathrobe of my shoulders. He kissed his way along my jaw, down the column of my neck, nipping at my collarbone. The bathrobe was gliding down my body, pooling around my waist. I untied his bathrobe, pushing it down his shoulders, as he stood up abruptly, his robe falling to the ground. He grabbed the bowl of strawberries and the bottle of champagne, setting them down on the edge of the pool before he turned around, picking me up.

"No! NO! You’re not jumping in there! I warn you Charles! I will-…" I began but it was already too late. Charles held me tight in his arms when he pulled me up again, water splashing around everywhere. I glared at him but he only laughed, kissing my forehead. I snuggled into him, expecting to be cold at any moment, but the water was surprisingly warm. Charles saw the confused expression on my face.

"It’s a heated pool… I might’ve asked to turn up the temperature a little." he chuckled and I kissed his cheek.

"You really thought of everything, didn’t you?" I beamed at him.

"Just trying to make everything as perfect as possible for you, cara mia." he whispered.

"You’re doing a good job. A very, very good job!" I replied and he brought me to the edge of the pool, a little ledge to sit on going around the pool wall. I looked over all the lights of the city while Charles opened up the champagne with a loud pop.

"Shit, I forgot glasses!" he sighed but I grabbed the bottle and took a big swig, face scrunching up "Very glamorous."

"You know me, I’m no lady." I shrugged my shoulders, taking another sip, before I handed him the bottle.

"But you look like one." he winked, or rather failed to do so and I chuckled. After taking a few gulps of champagne he sat the bottle down and sat behind me, pulling me into his lap and kissed my shoulder "This is way better than going out."

"Absolutely." I turned a little, snaking my hand around his neck, pulling him closer. Our lips almost touching, as I smirked leaning in even more, just to pull away, biting into a strawberry. Charles watched as a drop of the juice ran down my throat and groaned "Mhhh they’re so damn sweet." I picked up another strawberry, feeding it to him.

"Not bad, but I know something that would taste even sweeter." Charles whispered, his hot breath fanning over my ear "So much sweeter…" goosebumps erupted on my skin and I gasped, when he dragged his fingers through my folds.

"Charles…" I breathed out and he left open mouthed kisses down my neck, I closed my eyes, basking in the feeling.

"Yes, pretty girl?" he chuckled when I arched my back, grinding into his hand, moaning softly "Just tell me what you want…" my head began to swirl, when I felt his hard length pressed against my thigh.

"I want-… I want…" I began but had to stop when a wave of pleasure spread through my body. I grabbed his hand, pulling it closer to my core, moving with him "Please…"

"Please what?" I almost could hear him grinning "Come on…"

"Stop teasing!" I puffed out.

"Okay, okay…" he laughed and pulled his hand away and I huffed "Stop pouting!" he turned me in his lap, settling me down with my legs spread on his thighs "Ready?" he whispered and I nodded hastily.

"Yes!" I breathed out and a heatwave of pleasure spread through my body, a loud moan emanating from within my throat.

"Shhh! Not that loud, pretty girl! Do you want the whole hotel to hear us?" he groaned and the feeling of his muscular chest pressed against mine mad me clench "Careful… or I might think you’re into it…"

Charles POV:

I was pacing back and forth, waiting for Lewis‘ text when Lizzie walked in.

"I hate it!" she groaned and plopped down, head first, into the sofa.

"What’s going on?" I asked and sat beside her, turning her to look at me.

"Where should I start?" she sighed, raising her hands dramatically and I chuckled. She sat up and climbed into my lap, clinging onto me.

"Come on, tell me what’s bothering my little grumpy koala." I pinched her waist.

"I hate this racing calendar! I don’t like it to sit around for two weeks between races, going back and forth around the globe! Can’t they make it like we’re going in one way? Starting in Australia and working our way through until we’re ending the season in South America? No! Of course not! So now we have Australia next week and then almost an entire month until Baku!" she ranted.

"I know, they don’t think the calendar through… or rather not environmentally." I agreed with her.

"And then Miami! Why couldn’t that be a little earlier? Then I might’ve had a chance to get tickets! But no! First the calendar and then Ticketmaster spit in my soup!"

"What tickets?" I played dumb and she immediately pushed herself off of me.

"What tickets? WHAT TICKETS? Are you serious! I’ve been talking for weeks about The Era’s Tour! TAYLOR SWIFT!" she was fuming.

"Oh! Yeah! Of course! So no tickets because the website didn’t work and when it worked again all shows that would’ve worked out for you…" she glared at me "… for us were sold out! What a bummer!"

"What a bummer? No! Not just a bummer! It’s more like the end of the world!" she sighed again and I pulled her back into my lap.

"I know that sucks, but did you check for the shows after Australia? I mean, it’s like you said, we have almost a month between Melbourne and Baku?" Nope. All sold out. I already checked.

"That was the first thing I’ve checked right after they cancelled China! Nope." she mumbled.

"I’m sorry, cara mia! But that’s just her tour in the USA? Maybe she’ll be in Europe? Asia? South America? I’m sure we’ll find a way to see her! I’ll even help you and log in myself as soon as new tour dates are announced!" I cupped her cheeks, looking at her.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really!" I promised her right when I saw a text incoming from Lewis "You will see her concert!" I picked up my phone and read the text "I promise you!"

"Thank you! You’re a good boyfriend!" she giggled and kissed my cheek as I texted Lewis back.

I sat at the piano, writing down notes when I felt like someone was watching me, I grinned and sat up, playing my melody.

"You know, I can feel you staring…" I said quietly and Lizzie chuckled a little, before she hugged me from behind.

"Did you compose that?" she asked and I nodded "It’s beautiful."

"It’s not ready yet… just an idea…"

"But a beautiful idea." she kissed the top of my head and sat down on the sofa.

"We’ll see… when’s the car coming?" I asked her and turned on the stool.

"In thirty minutes. Everything’s packed. Joris will be here any minute. We’ll pick up Andrea on the way and JK is already in Australia." Lizzie stretched a little and yawned "I really hope that I can sleep in the plane…"

"You didn’t sleep last night pretty well, felt you stirring around quite a lot?" I got up and sat down beside her, pulling her into me and leaning back.

"Yeah…" Lizzie hummed and I gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up "The doc said I might get a little fuzzy and anxious… after what happened last year in Melbourne… I guess he’s right."

"You mean, what happened with us?" I asked and she nodded slowly "I’m sorry…"

"What for? I was the one who left you at the airport, after you just saved my ass…" she looked at me with wide eyes.

"But I kissed you…"

"Yeah and it was a pretty damn good kiss that made me feel woozy for days! And I hated it!" she laughed but then looked at me "No seriously, it had to happen and I’m glad it did! Because look at where we’re now!"

"I guess you’re right." I nodded and kissed her cheek "Now come on. We gotta go soon!" I pulled her up with me and we got ready when Joris texted that he was downstairs where our car was already waiting.

I climbed out of the car, frustrated. Not just that I messed up Q1 and Q2, no, for some reason I was held up by Carlos for the whole first sector in my first run in Q3 and then couldn’t get my shit together for my second run. Just another miscommunication or whatever mishap and my own mistakes lead to a start from P7 in tomorrow’s race. I sat down my helmet and watched a replay of Lizzie walking behind the barrier towards the pit lane on the screens, her head hung low. I didn’t see what happened to her, just saw her car stuck in the gravel at one point. I walked outside the garage to look for her. She stood at the Audi pit wall, helmet still on, talking to Felix who squeezed her shoulder. She shook her head and then proceeded to walk into her garage. I passed her up and grabbed her hand.

"Hey." I said and she turned her head slightly "What happened?"

"That idiot just got back on track without looking! That’s what happened! And I had to brake and steer around him! With cold tyres! They locked up and I spun out!" she was seething, throwing her gloves on the table, then she pulled off her helmet "I swear it’s always him! And you know what? He probably won’t even get punished. Like always!" the way she looked and talked, I knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Did he spun out or why was he off track?" I asked her and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I don’t know. I was going around the corner when Pete said that he would be on the right, outside of track, just so that I know and as I rounded the corner he just… god how can he be so fucking stupid?" she threw her helmet on a cart and I saw how a lot of heads were turning.

"I get that you’re frustrated, but Lizzie, calm down. There’s cameras everywhere…" I said and pushed her inside the garage into the back "Calm down, okay?"

"I can’t calm down for fucks sake! It’s always the same!" she took a water bottle and downed it.

"I know it sucks! But you can’t change it now, okay? Do your talking on track!" I tried to cheer her up but she only chuckled.

"Yeah? How many times do I have to do the talking on track?"

"I’m afraid forever?" I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in "It’s like this. Now, let’s go and have some fun with the media."

"Fun… yay…" she rolled her eyes.

"Come on!" I pulled her with me, Mia and Julie already waiting for us.

"Just hope and pray that he’s not there. I don’t know what I’ll say or do…" Lizzie mumbled and we laughed.

"Don’t worry, he was still deep in conversation with his dad and Mattia when I left." Mia said and gave me a pointed look, I sighed.

"What was that? Why are you looking like that?" Lizzie asked and I shook my head.

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it, cara mia." I said as we arrived in the media pen, Mia and Julie busy doing their job, looking for a spot for us.

"Are you sure?" she asked and I nodded, when Julie called her over.

"I think your needed."

"You too!" she smiled at me when Mia waved me over. I squeezed her hand and she walked off.

"Charles, P7 for you tomorrow. What went wrong today?" Danica Patrick asked.

"I wasn't on it. I wasn't driving well. I wasn't putting everything together, so that was my fault." I sighed.

"It seemed like there was some confusion in terms of track position between you and Carlos?"

"Unfortunately, I don't know what happened in the second run of Q3, whether it was a miscommunication with Carlos or whatever, but I found myself behind him for the whole first sector, which wasn't great. It’s like this sometimes. We'll speak at the debrief about that to try and improve those situations." I said when out of the blue Lizzie stormed over and hugged me "That’s new." I chuckled.

"I’m so sorry! I was so mad about my messed up quali that I didn’t even ask about yours! Fuck! I’m sorry, Charles." she whispered and I smiled, she pulled away and gave me a kiss when her eyes widened and she blushed, looking at me, then Danica as if she just now realised where she was "Oh my god! Fuck! I- I’m sorry! Really!" she said hastily and then sauntered off, stopping next to Julie to continue her interview, cheeks still slightly red.

"Now that was cute." Danica smiled at me.

"I didn’t mind it at all." I laughed.

"Last question. What do you think is possible tomorrow?"

"I think our car is good enough to fight for a podium? So yeah, that’s the goal. That should be doable."

I heard the door unlocking, soft steps towards me. Then Lizzie hugging me from behind, not saying anything until I finished playing.

"You’re done?" she whispered and I hummed.

"Yeah…"

"It’s beautiful. Really. I can’t believe that you actually will release it! I will listen to my boyfriend’s music on Spotify!" she kissed the side of my head and I chuckled a little.

"You’ll probably be my only listener." I said and she scoffed.

"Oh please! You have the most loyal fans out there! They will listen to it 24/7!" she laughed and stepped next to me "I’m serious! And if not? Then l’ll listen to it on repeat for the rest for my life!"

"Oh god no! I don’t want you to get depressed!" I groaned and pulled her down in my lap.

"I’m a Ferrari fan at heart. I know a thing or two about being depressed. Not to mention the emotional rollercoaster of being your fan…" she said and I gasped.

"Cara mia! My poor, little heart!"

"You’ll be fine!" she laughed, got up and plopped down on the sofa.

I got up as well and grabbed my phone, texting Jean from Verdigris. I sat next to Lizzie in silence for a while when I got a notification.

"It will be released at midnight." I said and she did a little happy dance.

"So, what’s the title?" Lizzie asked and I handed her my phone, she looked at it and sighed "I’m sorry." she whispered, kissing my cheek.

"It’s okay. I’m over it. The song helped me. I know it wasn’t Lances fault. It wasn’t my phone. Racing incident… it’s like this." I smiled sadly at her, thinking back to the race in Melbourne 2 weeks ago. The race that ended for me already in lap 1.

"It still sucks…" she took my hands in hers and squeezed them.

"It does. But next up is Baku… I should do good there!" I said determined and Lizzie nodded.

"Hell yeah!"

I packed my suitcase, making sure to not forget anything when I got a text from Charles, asking when I would pick him up. I checked the time and texted back, focusing back on packing. When I was sure I had everything, I dressed up, grabbed my suitcase and bag and switched off the light in the bathroom and bedroom. I then checked if all the remaining lights were out, threw my phone and headphones in my bag and slipped on my shoes. Right when I was about to leave my phone rang and I fished it back out of my bag.

"I’m on my way!" I sighed, rolling my suitcase out the door, switching off the light in the hallway.

"Passport?" Charles chuckled and I cursed, switching the light back on, running inside "Why don’t you just put your passport into your bag?"

"Because I’m not using the same bag all the time?" I rolled my eyes, opening the drawer, grabbing my passport.

"Alright. You got it now? Then I’ll see you in a bit." he said and hung up.

I locked the door and waited for the elevator, getting in. As I was already late, I kept on hitting the button for the underground parking garage again and again.

"Come on! Faster!" I groaned, jumping out of the elevator the second the doors opened, hurrying to my car. The moment I looked at it I stopped dead in my tracks.

A single red rose, stuck under the windshield wiper. The red of the rose was such a stark contrast to the white of my car. Almost like a droplet of blood in a field of snow. On unsteady legs I walked the last steps to my car. Shaky hand outstretched to pick off the rose. No note attached. No note under the windshield wiper. No nothing. I looked around, checking if any of the other cars had a rose as well. No. Just mine. It couldn’t be from Charles. He knew I didn’t like red roses. No. That rose. That was someone else. I unlocked the car, opened the hood and threw my suitcase in, then I got inside. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. He must’ve slipped inside when someone else left or entered the garage. When I opened my eyes again and started the car I flinched. When I looked into the rear view mirror I saw Diaz’ message for me: in bold red letters on my rear window: I can see you. I jumped out of the car, walked to the back and began to wipe off the paint with my sleeve, smearing it all over the window. Frantically I tried to get rid of the paint, get rid of Diaz’ presence. When it was mostly gone I looked at my sleeves. The red paint stained my sweater. I pulled it off. Grabbed the rose from the passenger seat and threw both items in the rubbish bin, before sitting back down in the car. I tried to calm myself down, driving off. But my hands were trembling. I shouldn’t drive like this, so I pulled over and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes. A wave of nausea hit me but I tried to breathe through it. Suddenly someone knocked on my window and I flinched.

"FUCK!" I almost screamed and looked to the side, a little girl looking at me. I rolled my window down "What?" I said way more harshly than intended and she made big eyes and shook her head.

"No-nothing. Sorry." she walked away hastily and I groaned.

Great. I just blew off steam at an innocent girl. Good job. I opened up the door and scrambled out of the car, my legs still shaky.

"Hey! Umm- excuse me!" I walked towards the girl who stood next to what looked like her parents. She stared at me with big eyes, hiding behind her mothers legs "I’m really sorry for snapping at you like that! It’s just. You scared me a little and I’m late and I-… you know what? Doesn’t matter. Nothing of that is an excuse to snap at you! I’m really, really sorry!" I kneeled down in front of her and she slowly stepped around her mother "What’s your name?"

"Amelie." she whispered and I smiled at her.

"What a beautiful name! Beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"I like your name too." she giggled.

"What? Really? Thank you!" she nodded and then reached inside her pocket, pulling out a bracelet, handing it to me "Did you do that yourself?" I took the bracelet and looked at it "Yeah? It’s so pretty!" I put it on and her smile got even bigger.

"I like your bracelets!" she said and I held out my hand for her to look at some of the fan bracelets I accumulated over the past months, but also some of my own.

"Which one do you like the most?" I asked her and she pointed at the rose gold one with a tiny heart "Good choice!" I took it off and secured it tightly around her wrist, she made big eyes and looked at me.

"Oh! No! She can’t- we can’t take that!" Amelie’s mother said but I shook my head.

"It looks way better on you anyway!"

"Can I take a picture with you?" the little girl asked shyly.

"Of course!" I put my arm around her father took a picture of us.

"Thank you!" Amelie smiled and hugged me.

"No, thank you for the beautiful bracelet!" I said and got up.

"Thank you! Really! All she talks about are Charles and you!" her mother said and I laughed.

"That’s also my favourites topic, you know!" I winked at the little girl.

"Good luck in Baku!"

"Thank you!" with a last wave I walked back to my car and got inside. The remnants of Diaz message still visible on my rear window. I started the engine and drove off, trying to ground myself, knowing that Charles would be suspicious if he would see me in my current state.

I pulled over in front of his house where he already stood, shaking his head. He stored his suitcase inside and then opened the door.

"I thought you’re German! Punctual!" he chuckled and got inside, careful to not step on my beg on the floor. Then he leaned over, kissing me. He pulled away immediately, looking at me "Why did you cry?"

"What?" I drove off, looking at the street ahead.

"You cried! Why? What happened?" he kept on staring at me.

"How do you wanna know if I cried?" I chuckled.

"I’ve seen the tears streak on your cheeks and your lips tasted salty. Like tears. Your eyes are a little puffy and red. So? Why did you cry?" he was persistent.

"Taylor Swift." I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Taylor Swift?"

"Taylor Swift. That’s why I was so late! When I was getting ready I scrolled through Insta and someone uploaded a clip from The Era’s Tour… and yeah I might’ve cried because I will never ever gonna see her live in concert because of our job… don’t look at me like that!" I lied and he looked at me for a moment, before he relaxed back in the seat.

"My little drama queen." he laughed as he looked out the window "Now hurry up, or Max will fly without us."

"Yes, Sir!" I said, speeding away towards the heliport. Hoping Charles wouldn’t see the stains of the red paint on the rear window, I tried to distract him "So, Baku… what do you think? Can you do the three consecutive poles?"

"We’ll see I guess." he shrugged his shoulders, right as I steered onto the parking lot of the heliport.

"Yeah… but I believe in you!" I turned off the engine and looked at him, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he leaned in.

"Then I can do it."

Chapter 31 - Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 2023 Formula 1 World Championship… full of racing, love, drama and trauma… 👀🙌

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