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dreamauri · 2 years ago

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♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part three charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader (angst+ smut) series summary . . . after mysteriously waking up in an era that you don't belong in, you learn that you have amnesia and that your memories from the last few years have been misplaced somewhere in a memory dump. you're challenged with living in the future in a foreign body and life, especially with a husband who used to be your enemy. forgetting truly is troublesome.

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"What's that?" You pulled back Charles' arm to see what he was holding. He put a finger over his mouth signalling for you to stay quiet. Cookies. He stole cookies from the hospitality. "Try one." He whispered, offering one to your lips. You glanced between him and the dough unimpressed. "I thought we were dieting." "Just try it!" He urged and you could help but roll your eyes.

Holding his wrist, you held his hand still as you took a bite. A frown curled on your face as you chewed. "They wouldn't know if we took the whole box right?" You whispered looking around, before pulling his wrist closer and eating the rest.

Charles found himself smiling softly, feeling your lips brush against his fingers. "Come on." You took his other wrist, pulling him back to the hospitality.

You two ended up sharing the entire box in your driver's room, with you laying on the couch discovering tiktok while Charles sat on the floor beside you petting your ashera cat, kiki ( who was purring on your stomach ) while feeding you. "Won't Andrea be mad?" "Not if he doesn't know." Charles chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair out of your mouth.

You looked at him from the side of your eye, opening your mouth for him to put another one. "He'll kill you for being a bad influence." You leaned up taking a bite. "Me? A bad influence?" He teased, receiving a pillow hard on his head.

He watched as the cat leaned into your head scratches and belly rubs. Kiki was a way to get familiar or a taste of parenthood, he'd gotten her to decrease your baby fever while he tried make one with you.

"What's with sll the shirtless pics? Makes you look like a whore." "It does not." He defended, leaning his head beside yours to watch what you were looking at. Yep, someone had a collection of shirtless Charles Leclercs, and you were looking through each one.

"Your ugly." "You wouldn't have married me if I way ugly." He reminded you and you turned to him unimpressed. Charles gave a knowing smirk before he went back to giving attention and affection to your cat.

Were you lying to yourself? Sure he wasn't ugly with that haircut . . . and those back muscles . . . and that torse . . . and that smile— no! Not his smile! Charles Leclerc had the worst smile. He still doesn't know how to wink!

"How did we meet anyways?" "What? We met in France at . . . 10—" "That's not what I asked. What made me like you?" Charles felt his breath hitch at the memory as he turned to face you slowly. "W—well its a long story, and we don't have enough time before the race." You turned on your side narrowing your eyes at him.

What are you hiding, Charles?

GASP! "Is that?— No way!" You fangirled, ready to take off only to be pulled back from Charles. He wrapped his arms tight around your stomach, lifting you up to make sure you didn't run off and tackle Andrew Garfield ( seventeen you's crush ). "Leclerc, let me go." You fussed and wriggled only for him to run away with you.

Yeah, if he loosens his grip for a second, he's going to left in the dust for spiderman. He won't lose the prettiest woman on earth for an actor. "I wanna see spider man!" "I— Hey you hear that? Andrea is calling." "BUT SPIDERMAN!!"

You grumbled and huffed angrily as you juggled the tennis balls next to Charles who was putting on his fireproof and zipping up his suit. "I hate you." You reminded Charles throwing one successfully at his head. "You have any idea how much meeting him would've meant to me?" He really didn't.

He took your scolding, feeling his heart clench and sob with each mean insult you threw at him. "Are you really that scared if I met a celebrity? Are you really that fragile and jealous?" You huffed tugging your gloves on and pushing him out of your way to retreive your driving shoes.

"Y/N— I'm sorry." He pulled you back from your hand gently, turning you to face him. He only saw your face fuming and angry, ready to punch his stomach up his throat. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." You You tried to pull your hand out of his grip but he was stronger than you for sure.

"Please. I'll get the whole cast. And the cast of the notebook." He tried to take your other hand put you pulled it out of his reach. "I'm an asshole. The biggest asshole. I don't deserve a woman like you. And yes, I am scared of losing a woman like you. You are the only good thing in my life, Y/N, and you don't even remember me . . . Don't you know how much that hurts?"

"I do and that makes it more bearable." Charles sighed, dropping his head, gently running his thumb across your knuckles. ". . . We had . . . a night in Australia . . . and we kept doing it. I asked you out later and we got married in december." He quickly explained clenching his jaw.

"We started of as an affair." You concluded, snatching your hand out of his, absolutely disgusted. "No! No." Charles denied quickly, backing you up in the wall trapping you, holding both your hands. "We had . . . talks and moments. You— you trusted me with your feelings and I thought, I still do think that you are a blessing, heaven on this earth. Sure we kissed and things escalated, but I'd never use your body Y/N."

You sighed as Charles searched for your eyes, trying to get you to look at him. You snickered once you finally looked into his fear stricken ones. "Please believe me when I tell you that I love you and you alone were meant for me.." He shook your hands gently, feeling himself hyperventilate.

"Please believe me when I tell you I love you, you're the best thing That's ever happened to me." The faceless man held your hands close to his chest, leaning close to you. "You're amazing and funny. You can be mean or nice when you need to and you've trusted me with yourself Y/N." "I love you, I really do." He chocked on his sobs, tears streaming down his blurred eyes. "I've you given you my heart. And you alone were meant for me."

"I know it's not like you can gain your memories on command or with a snap of your fingers, and I'm not asking you to do that. Just please . . . work with me—mhh" He moaned against your lips when you pulled him down roughly.

You tugged your hands free. Charles felt his hands twitch missing yours. That feeling was quickly forgotten once he felt your hands pull apart his race suit and zip down the top to pull up his fireproofs. "H—here?" He stuttered between kisses, feeling himself gasp with your hands trailing down his skin, past his waist line and underwear.

"Here." You asserted, pushing him to the couch, climbing on top of him pulling your own red suit off, an accidental hum leaving your lips against Charles. "Then we'll do it right—" He flipped you over, pinning your hands over your head.

You sadly didn't get to get as far as you would've liked. Charles held your hand as he jogged through the paddock, pulling your dishevelled self along to the garage. The race was starting in a few minutes and you couldn't miss it. YOU WERE THE DRIVER.

You huffed as Charles quickly fixed your hair and suit, helping you strap your helmet and put your gloves on. "I'm not three." "I know that." Charles whined before kissing your cheek from atop your helmet, scurrying off to get himself ready as well.

Sitting in your car, you watched as Charles ran up the grid to you. "Don't crash out, please." He crouched beside you, kissing your cheek. "Mother fucker— just go." You pushed him away, sighing.

You could see the relieved smile that's been plastered on his face since he got to taste you again. You on the other hand felt agitated because he pulled away thousands of a second before you reached your peak. You were going to have to take revenge for that, you thought as you watched him climb the car in front of you.

"Well, David, it's a scorching day here in the heart of Monte Carlo, and the engines are roaring as we prepare for the start of the Grand Prix!" "Absolutely, Martin! And it's not just the weather heating things up. The Leclercs' presence is making waves. Y/N, dealing with amnesia, is a 17-year-old spirit in a 25-year-old body. A unique twist in today's race."

"Indeed, David. It's lights out, and the cars surge forward. Charles Leclerc, starting from the front row, quickly slots into P2 behind Verstappen who's got an amazing start."

Lap 20. — "As we cross the 20-lap mark, disaster strikes for Charles Leclerc! In a bid to block out Perez, he clips the front of the Red Bull, sending both into the barriers." "A heart-stopping moment, Martin. Charles is out of the race, a DNF, and that's a tough blow for the Ferrari driver on his home turf."

"Oh no." You mumbled passing the red and blue cars. You stayed silent once you pressed the radio button. "Yes, Y/N?" The radio was on but you were quiet. "Is he . . . is Charles . . ." "Charles is okay Y/N. He's coming back to the garage right now. Don't worry." "Alright . . ."

Lap 25. — "Meanwhile, Y/N Leclerc's facing her own challenges. After some intense battles, she's fallen to P7. The young racer is under pressure, but she's fighting hard." "She's showing real tenacity out there, Martin. And we've got some team radio messages coming in from Y/N's crew."

"Y/N, keep your focus. We know it's tough, but you've got this. Picking them off one by one." "I know, I know. I'm trying!— Lando stop fucking—" "Stay calm, Y/N. Stay calm." "Yeah yeah."

final Lap. — "And here we are, the final lap of this exhilarating Grand Prix. Verstappen has dominated the race, but behind him, the real battles have raged."

"Absolutely, Martin. And Y/N Leclerc, after a stunning performance, crosses the finish line in P4! What an incredible comeback from the young driver after taking the last 4 rounds off."

"You did it, Y/N! An incredible drive. We're so proud of you!" You Felt yourself screaming in exitment, throwing your fists up in joy. "How many points is that?" "These are 12—" "TWELEVE! OH MY GOD, NO WAY. NO. WAY."

"Verstappen takes the win, David, followed by a sensational Lando Norris in P2 and the seasoned Fernando Alonso in P3." "Monaco has truly delivered, Martin. Drama, determination, and unforgettable moments. That's what the Monte Carlo Grand Prix is all about."

"Okay, it was a bad race." "It was the shittiest race." Charles corrected you, huffing as he pulled your leg up to undo your shoe laces ( one of the few things you forgot how to do ). And although Charles was fuming, filled with fury and anger, he felt more at ease with your shitty attempts of comfort.

You sighed for the thirtieth time, watching him set your sneakers on the rack and rub his face in his hands. "You're annoying." You reached a hand under your shirt undoing the straps. "I— I know I'm being a hassle and—" Charles looked up to face you only to come face to face with your bra that you were holding up.

You dropped them. Charles was quick to react and catch them, watching your retreating figure pull your shirt off as you walked to the bedroom. "Wait— wait for me." Clothes were quickly abandoned on the floor as charles practically tackled you onto the bed. He couldn't keep his hands or mouth of your breasts that he's missed so much. You could feel your body twitch and tense feeling his warm tongue on your skin.

It was unfamiliar to you, but it felt . . . satisfying, with the way charles was doing it. He kissed and licked and nibbled on every inch of your skin, practically ripping your panties off so he could reach what he needed.

"No teasing this time." You pushed his head away when he tried to lick up your arousal. "Condoms." You pointed at the drawer. And he obeyed, quickly sliding one on. With his gentle touch, Charles pulled you to stand on your knees, your back to his chest with your arms holding his biceps that wrapped tightly around your stomach.

"Haa! Fuck!" You tried to jump out of hold at the weird sensation, the stretch felt . . . Foreign. But you didn't not like it. "Hey- hey. Relax. Breath." Charles pulled you further into his chest, kissing the spot behind your ear. "I got you. We can stop whenever you wan- ow!"Your body jolted feeling him push you down to take him further, head involtarily snapping vacation and hitting his nose. "Shit- I'm sorry." You tried to turn and check on him but Charles only laughed quietly.

'She apologized?'

"I'm okay." "I swear if you're lying—" "—I'm not. I'm not." He assured you quickly making you slimb your body in relief. "Let's take things . . . Slower?" He offered slowly, gently setting you dowm on your chest.

"How did we do it the first time?" "Oh wow, that tales me back . . ." ". . . You don't remember?" "—I do! It was my first." He defended, pulling you to straddle his lap. "I rode you? What kind of sex was that?"

"Well you took lead." That idea wasn't so bad. You watched as he intertwined your fingers with his, bending his knees so he could keep a steady pace. With a deep breath, you sank down slowly. The pain was almost non-existent from all the times you did it before. You felt on fire, leaning your hands on his to keep yourself up.

"Ready?" "Just go already." Almost immediately when his hips thrusted upward a moan left your mouth feeling him push deeper than you had settled with. "Charles— Fuck!" The monogasque held you up from your hips before you face planted in his chest.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, gripping his pecks while he kept a steady pace. Charles felt complete finally, he felt at home with you. You weren't usually this loud but he wasn't going deny the extra treats.

You switched position a few times, but you stuck with prone; with Charles pinning your hands above your head, he littered your chest neck and collar with small bites and licks.

He knew you were close from your mannerisms, having been married to you for 4 years and with you for almost 6. Charles fucked you through your orgasm while you engraved ten red lines down his shoulder and back.

"E—enough." You hiccuped, trying to push him away. "Almost there, Amour. Please just a little bit more." He begged in your ear, picking up just pace. Your body twitched and flinched every few thrusts and you grew tired and limp in his arm. "Wait wait." His voice was thinner and lower as he chased his high.

How more was a little bit? How more could this man go? Charles must've been making up for the few months you missed. You were tired yes, but watching him so desperately beg and whine and moan on top of you felt . . . It felt satisfying.

His body was sweaty with hair sticking to his forehead as he rocked back and forth repeatedly. "Mon Amour, mon Amour." He begged and he begged and he begged, squeezing his eyes shut so he could only feel and hear you.

He only opened his eyes again when he felt your finger tips ( that had thrown tennis balls at him this morning ) brush his hair from his eyes and wipe the desperate and needy tears that trailed down his eyes.

You were so gentle with him. How could you not? He was giving all of himself to you. Why were you being so mean and cruel to him? You watched your heart skip a beat as he nuzzles his cheek in your hand, taking your wrists and pressing soft kisses to your palm. He was practically worshipping you. And he was.

"Je t'aime— fuck fuck! Y/N!" He finished with a final few thrusts, finally stopping to catch his breath. You watched him pull out and flop on your chest, back rising up and down as he nuzzles in your neck. "Amour." He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing kisses to your jaw .

You've never seen him in such a state before. So vulnerable and open and weak. You could hurt him, you could win the game. But you didn't, instead resting your head on his back, patting him gently as you two fell asleep tangled I each other. Charles might've been not so bad after all.

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