#as if saying the opposite would take something from Charles

[laeana]

Some people claiming that the Monaco race wasn’t boring really surprises me when nothing happened during the race and it was easily one of the most boring race I’ve watched those last years.

4 overtakes in total, a lot of things happening in lap1 out of SEVENTY EIGHT where barely anything happened in the rest of it, the red flag killed all the strategy for the tyres, f1 cars driving at the pace of f2 qualifying laps, the top ten did not move the slightest … but you’re unwell if you were falling asleep in front of that?

Admitting a race is boring doesn’t mean you take anything away from the person who won it. Here, the victory of Charles was beautiful, emotional, especially considering everything that surrounds it.

But that doesn’t mean the race in itself was interesting. If Max had won it you all would have been the first to claim that it was the most boring race in a decade.

A race doesn’t have to be intense or interesting for its results to be meaningful. A victory will always be a victory.

[pucksandpower]

Baby Steps

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari … Charles shows you that you don’t have to do it alone

Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment

You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.

Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.

This “morning” sickness is no joke — it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.

Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray it’s not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, it’s Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.

You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. “Good morning, Charles.”

He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you say breezily. “Just a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.”

You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, it’s frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

Charles’ face remains creased in concern. “Food poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?”

You wave a hand. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before I’m back to normal.” You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.

Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. “Whoa, take it easy,” he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.

You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you sat down.”

He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you haven’t managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.

Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. “When did the sickness start?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. “About four weeks ago,” you mutter.

Understanding dawns on Charles’ face. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. “So you’re ...”

“Pregnant. Yes.” You drop your head into your hands.

“Well, hey, congratulations,” says Charles gently. “That’s really exciting.”

You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. “Exciting? More like a nightmare!” You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...”

Charles’ brows draw together again. “Why would you lose your job? You’re Carlos’ press officer. I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you.”

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no way. I can’t take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!” You bite your lip anxiously. “Maybe … maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.”

Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. “Y/N. Working yourself into the ground won’t be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.”

Panic flares in your chest. “No! No, I can’t.” Your breathing quickens. “You don’t understand — I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...” You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.

Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Okay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I won’t tell Carlos or anyone else.” He hesitates. “But Y/N, please take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.

Charles rises too, watching you with concern. “Will you be alright?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.

“Y/N,” Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. “Congratulations again. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He gives you a small, warm smile.

You swallow hard. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.

You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.

A baby.

Your baby.

Fear and wonder tangle inside you.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

“Y/N? Are you ill?”

You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you say hoarsely. “Just needed a quick nap.”

Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Charles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?”

You make a mental note to kill Charles later. “Uh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But I’ll be okay.” You attempt a reassuring smile.

Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell? You know you don’t have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.” His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.

Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t want to let you down. But you’re right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head immediately. “No, don’t be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,” he adds with a small grin.

You smile weakly back. “Okay, boss.”

Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. “I brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.”

He smiles. “Of course. Feel better, Y/N.” With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.

You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.

This high stakes world of racing is all you’ve known for the past three years. You can’t imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.

With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.

You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. “It’s gonna be okay, little one,” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

***

The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.

“Oh, Y/N!”

You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. “I grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?”

You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion — this is the third time this week Charles has “accidentally” had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...

“Sure, thanks,” you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.

You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. “Morning. Feeling better today?”

You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.

Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.

The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.

“Good?” He asks.

You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. “Yeah, really hit the spot, thanks.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with a smile. “No problem. I’ll try to grab two tomorrow.”

You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. He’s up to something.

Over the next week, Charles’ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when you’re looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if he’s not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.

It all comes to a head on race day. You’re in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.

“Stay hydrated,” he says with a wink.

That does it. “Okay, enough!” You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.

Charles’ eyes go wide with shock. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. “Why are you doing this?” You hiss. “I don’t need you to baby me!”

“What?” Charles looks completely bewildered. “I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, stop,” you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charles’ face makes you falter, but you press on. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“Pity?” Charles frowns. “It’s not pity, Y/N. I care about you.” He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.”

His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.

Charles’ alarmed expression softens. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you ...” He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.

After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.” His expression turns serious. “If you ever need anything, please ask me. I’m here for you.”

Looking up into Charles’ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. “We should probably get back to work before people think there’s a full-blown soap opera going on over here.”

Charles grins. “Agreed. But this conversation isn’t over. Dinner tonight in my room?” He raises an eyebrow.

You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. “It’s a date.”

***

You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charles’ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve been in drivers’ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.

You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.

“Y/N! Come in.” He steps back to allow you inside.

The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony,” he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. “The fresh air will be good for you and baby.”

You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. “Charles, this is beautiful!”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.

As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mother earlier.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something you’d like.”

A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Charles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.”

Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. “Of course. I want to take care of you.”

You chat comfortably over food and Charles’ excellent choice of wine for you — sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.

When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. “So, do you know how far along you are?”

You hesitate. “About three months now.”

He nods. “And have you been to a doctor yet?”

Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. “Not yet.” At his surprised look, you add defensively, “I’ve just been so busy with work. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Still, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.” Charles’ tone is gentle.

You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.

“Do you ...” Charles pauses delicately. “Forgive me, but … do you know who the father is?”

Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I just ...” You glance up at him. “He’s no longer in my life.” You look away, a lump in your throat.

Charles doesn’t ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesn’t feel quite so frightening.

Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. “You must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.”

You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner. For everything.”

His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...” He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. “Sweet dreams to you too, little one.”

You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.

Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charles’ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.

You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you aren’t alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.

***

The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. It’s your job to capture every word to ensure he’s not misrepresented later.

The reporter’s voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-

“Y/N!”

Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Charles’ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.

There’s loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charles’ voice pierce through the fog.

“She’s pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...”

You try to cling to consciousness but it’s like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.

When you resurface, it’s to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.

“Y/N?” Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. “Thank God. You’re awake.”

Before you can respond, he’s disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.

A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. “Good to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.”

“What happened?” Your voice comes out hoarse.

“You fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.” The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.

Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. “But she’ll be alright now?”

The doctor hesitates. “I’m recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.” She pins you with a sharp look. “And if your blood pressure drops again, we’ll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.”

Your stomach drops through the floor. “What? No, I can’t! I have to keep working, I-”

“Y/N.” Charles’ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. “Your health is what matters most.”

The doctor nods briskly. “Precisely. No job is worth risking your or your baby’s safety.” With a final warning look, she departs.

The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, you’re useless to the team. You’ll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-

Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.

When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.

“I know you’re scared,” he says quietly. “But I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.”

His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like he’s a rock in a stormy sea.

***

You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier — you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.

A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. “Hungry for something better than hospital food?” He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.

You brighten immediately. “Charles, you’re my hero.”

He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.

Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to eating. But who doesn’t like Italian food?”

You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.

When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. “So I was thinking ...” Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. “My apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room that’s just sitting empty.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“Well ...” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I thought maybe when you’re discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure you’re not overexerting yourself.”

You frown slightly. “Oh. That’s really kind, but I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.”

“Will you?” Charles levels you with a knowing look. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t really argue with that.

“Let me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,” Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. “Please?”

Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... “I don’t want to be a burden,” you mumble half-heartedly.

Charles squeezes your hand. “You could never be. I care about you, Y/N.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I want to take care of you and the baby.”

The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.

You meet his hopeful gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then … I accept your kind offer.”

Charles’ answering smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? Oh, that’s fantastic!” He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot that’s been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.

That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.

You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. “I just wanted to say … thank you. For everything. I’ll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.”

Charles’ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.” He strokes a finger over your belly. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.

***

You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseur’s office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that you’ll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.

Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It will be okay. Just explain the situation.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, Charles. What can I do for you?” His gaze darts between you curiously.

Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.

“Y/N has something she needs to discuss with you,” Charles begins calmly. “I’m here for moral support.”

Fred’s eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.

“Well, I ...” You have to pause and swallow hard. “I recently learned that I’m pregnant. And I’ve developed some, uh, complications that mean I can’t travel or be on my feet much.”

Fred’s eyebrows climb higher. “I … see. Congratulations?” He still looks perplexed.

Charles jumps in. “What she’s trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ah.” Understanding settles on Fred’s face. He turns back to you. “I’m very sorry to hear you’re unwell. Of course health must come first.”

You feel yourself relax slightly. “So I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when I’m able to return?”

“Absolutely.” Fred nods. “You’ve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

You could cry with relief. “Oh, thank you! That means the world.”

Fred smiles kindly. “Think nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. We’ll manage in the meantime.”

Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. “Is there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?”

Fred considers this. “Y/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require — medical, household, anything at all.”

You clutch Charles’ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. “Very generous. We appreciate that greatly.”

After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. “Best of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.”

You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.

“Charles, thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. “Of course, Y/N. I meant what I said — I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.

***

You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.

A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.

“Y/N? I’m Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.” Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. “And you must be the dad! Wonderful.”

Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. “That’s right, thank you,” he says easily, standing to shake the doctor’s hand.

You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.

“Now then, let’s take a look at this baby, shall we?” She pats the exam table.

You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.

The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges — a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. There’s your baby.

Dr. Boucher smiles. “There we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.

“And there’s the heartbeat.” The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. “Nice and strong.”

Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.

When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charles’ car, he turns to you.

“That was … incredible,” he says softly. “Seeing your baby for the first time ...” He trails off, at a loss for words.

You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.

Safely home in Charles’ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.

This moment, here with Charles, your child’s heartbeat still echoing in your ears … it’s the closest thing to pure joy you’ve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charles’ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life he’s given back to you.

***

You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charles’ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monaco’s glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.

“Charles?”

He glances over from where he’s poking at the fire. “Hmm?”

You twist your fingers together nervously. “There’s more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.”

Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“It happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.”

You stare into your tea, remembering. “There was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just … clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.” Your lips twist wryly. “Or so I thought.”

Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.

“We spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...” You trail off, face warming.

“You made love,” Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.”

Your voice drops to a pained whisper. “He was married. His ‘business trip’ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone … it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.”

Finally you lift your head. Charles’ face is lined with compassion. “They disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didn’t matter that I was lied to — as far as they’re concerned, I brought shame upon our family.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.”

Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. You’re so incredibly strong.”

Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.

“I’ve got you now,” Charles murmurs. “Both of you. You’ll never be alone again.”

Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charles’ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.

***

You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.

Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.

The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.

Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.

“Y/N! I wanted to surprise you.” His grin falters. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Charles, I love it!” You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charles’ face lights up.

“I wasn’t sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,” he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.

You lean into him, gazing around. “It’s perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

Pink tinges Charles’ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m the lucky one.”

You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” He eyes your protruding stomach. “The fumes can’t be good ...”

You wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine! Here-” You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. “Make yourself useful instead of worrying.”

Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon you’re both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you can’t comfortably reach anymore.

Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.

“Oops!” You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.

Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.

You gasp in delighted outrage. “Oh, it is on!” Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.

Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.

Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. You’re both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.

Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he confesses, a little breathless.

You smile, heart soaring. “What took you so long?”

His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.

***

You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charles’ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.

Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. “Ready for your massage?”

You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. “Yes please.”

Charles props up pillows behind you so you’re half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.

You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charles’ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.

His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. “There you go, little one. We’re going to make your home nice and cozy.”

Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed … it’s everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.

You trail your fingers through Charles’ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath — pure adoration, like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

“I love you.” The words slip out unbidden. Charles’ hands still. For a heartbeat, you’re afraid you’ve said too much.

But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I love you too,” Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. “So much.”

He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.

Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. “Did you feel that?”

You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it — a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.

Charles’ face lights up. “There it is again!” He laughs in wonder. “The little one is saying hello.”

Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispers tenderly.

Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but can’t seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.

“Alright?” He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.

You nod. “Yeah, just some back pain today.” Probably from lugging around this massive belly.

Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.

Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.

Your water broke.

“Charles!” You shake his shoulder urgently.

He comes awake with a snort. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s time! The baby-” You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.

That wakes Charles up fully. “The baby? It’s coming?” He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.

You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. “Yes, so we should-” Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.

You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.

“Okay, let’s go!” He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.

Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. “Oh God, I forgot you!”

You have to laugh at the panic on his face. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.

You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. “It’s okay. But we should really go now.”

Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.

At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.

When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you can’t do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.

The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.

You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.

“His name is Matteo Charles,” you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.

Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if he’d like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.

Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteo’s cheek, seemingly enraptured.

“Thank you,” he rasps to you. “For our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.”

This is everything you never knew you needed — a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But you’ve found it now, here in this room, together.

***

The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charles’ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.

Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.

Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay?” He asks through a yawn.

“We’re good now.” You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you — you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.

Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. “I can’t believe he’s really here,” he murmurs. “Our son.”

Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteo’s father, as naturally as breathing.

When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your son’s head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.

Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.

In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. “I’ll just tell Fred I’m not coming this weekend,” he says casually over breakfast. “The team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No, Charles, you have to race.”

“But I don’t want to leave you two!” Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.

You catch Charles’ hand. “This is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.”

Charles wavers. You soften your voice. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him — but Charles was born to race. You won’t let him give that up.

The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then he’s gone.

The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.

You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.

When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.

Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.

***

The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, he’s ready for his first race.

Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “Are you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?” He tickles Matteo’s belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.

You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.

“Lewis, meet Matteo,” Charles says proudly. At Lewis’ questioning look, he adds “My son.” The way he says it brooks no argument.

Lewis’ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. “Hi Matteo!” He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.

Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.

Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.

When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteo’s sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.

In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.

Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteo’s antics. “Alright, my little race car driver, time for bed.”

He tickles Matteo’s tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.

Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine life without him now.”

You slip your arms around Charles from behind. “He loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.”

Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. “I’m going to win tomorrow for him.”

And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteo’s delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

***

The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.

Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. “Look Matteo, there’s the cars! Vroom vroom!” Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteo’s delighted giggle melts your heart. You can’t help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.

You’ve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, “You!”

Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.

“You disgusting harlot!” The woman spits with unrestrained fury. “You filthy whore!”

Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charles’ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteo’s smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.

The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until she’s nearly screaming in your face. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!”

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.

His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charles’ chest.

The woman — his wife, you realize with dawning horror — grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. “Just look at her!” She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. “Parading that little bastard child around like it’s something to be proud of!” She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charles’ embrace.

Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.

Matteo’s biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. “Is that ...” he chokes out, “Is he … mine?”

“No.” Charles’ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. “Matteo is my son.” Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.

But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.

You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.

With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.

Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. “It’s alright now, you’re both safe,” he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteo’s panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charles’ neck.

The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.

His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.

Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. “I promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m breathing.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charles’ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.

Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.

***

“Papa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!”

Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.

Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. “You do?”

Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. “Yeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?”

Charles melts, ruffling Matteo’s hair. “Of course, buddy. We’ll have to convince your maman first though.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteo’s interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...

Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.” He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.

Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.

Finally you cave. “Alright!” You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. “You can start teaching him the basics.”

Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. “Yesss!” Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.

The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. It’s just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charles’ hand tightly.

Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then it’s time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.

“Ready, mon petit champion?”

Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.

Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.

Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. “That’s it Matteo, you’re doing amazing!” He cheers.

This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.

***

“I’m here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.”

The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.

“Incredibly proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replies earnestly. “This has been Matteo’s dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to … it’s indescribable.”

Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your son’s helmet and race suit.

“His mother and I, we’ve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.”

The reporter smiles. “And his last name isn’t the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protégé after you mentored him through the junior ranks.”

“I taught him everything I could,” Charles acknowledges. “But his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I can’t wait to see how high he continues to climb.”

“Any advice you’ve given him before his first race with Ferrari?”

Charles chuckles. “Just to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.” He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.

“Still seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. I’ll never forget that feeling.”

The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charles’ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles says hoarsely. “Your mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.”

Matteo’s answering smile is blinding. “I’ll make you proud, Papa.”

He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.

You cling to Charles’ side, waving tearfully. “Our little boy,” you whisper in awe.

Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. “He’s all grown up. But he’ll always be our son.”

No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy — the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.

His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.

[love-belle]

looked for stars and i found a supernova !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which it takes a random song drop and a feature from a university student for their relationship to come to light.

or

for when it became true, opposites do attract. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!sargeant!reader

warnings - language

author's note - i am SO sorry i have no explanation for not posting except for the fact that i am now unemployed (i finished hs and don't start college till like august) and i just do Nothing the entire day. i love u all thank u for sticking around <3

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilymhe and 729,816 others

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8,628 comments

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*liked by charles_leclerc*

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 2,629,916 others

charles_leclerc you're in her dms, i wrote a song for her in under a day when we weren't even dating. we are not the same.

12,628 comments

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yourusername cool song

-> charles_leclerc thank you i wrote it for my girlfriend

yourusername AHSHDHDJJSJSJAJS IN LOVE THIS WAS SO GOOD UR VOICE IS INSANE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

-> charles_leclerc THANK YOU !! ❤️

-> username they make me SICK

-> username calm bf 🤝 hyperactive gf

username the most important question is did logan re download this app

-> yourusername he did but then he saw this post, heard the song and deleted it again

-> yourusername he's just bitter i am bsfs with max before him

-> logansargeant disowned

-> yourusername my grad pic on the mantle BEGS to differ !!!!!! u are on the piano u have no room to talk

-> logansargeant i'm pushing you out of this year's christmas card

≡.;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 899,527 others

yourusername got him to say he would still love me if i was a worm n now we go on walks and i point at every worm and say sorry i can't be her

tagged charles_leclerc

12,628 comments

username NO WAY THIS JS REAL

username i just want a detailed description of how they met and who asked the other out ☝️😞

username my roman empire the fuck

username the way their personalities crash when will it be me

username THE CAPTION IM SCREAMING

username the way she will never let that man know peace and i am so EXCITED

username she's so unhinged i love her

username LET IT ONCE BE ME PLEASEEE

username blocked (im laying on the highway tonight)

username the way i know logan had to be sedated

-> username my man did nothing wrong why are they torturing him 😭

alex_albon we're down one driver at williams

-> yourusername is it a good time to tell u that i recently got my license

-> logansargeant YOU FAILED YOUR TEST 5 TIMES FUCK OFFFFFFF

-> yourusername big emotions

-> username im cryinf what do you mean shw faield the test 5 TIMES ????

username LMAOO THE LAST SLIDE 😭😭😭 I LOVE HER

username parents dare i say

username max is not happy i can tell

-> yourusername i received a very strongly worded message from him yesterday and the only thing i could make out was that he's a bitch for charles like. a BITCH.

-> maxverstappen1 blasphemy

-> logansargeant NO WAY you're buddies with MAX VERSTAPPEN before ME back OFFFFFF

-> yourusername nurse he is out again 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-> username what are they doing to my boy 😭

logansargeant y/n please. THINK.

-> yourusername i did

-> logansargeant AND ?

-> yourusername he's nice i will keep him

-> logansargeant NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

-> yourusername god forbid a girl wants to date a questionable man

-> charles_leclerc ?

username crazy how this is the most random couple ever and we're instantly like PARENTS !!!!

-> username i for once love them like the cultural clashes we're gonna get heh

charles_leclerc my love please

-> yourusername my pronouns are she not her because i'll never be her 🪱

-> charles_leclerc stop

charles_leclerc and can you please tell your brother to hesitate before speaking? he just offered me candy and a dollar to break up with you

-> yourusername FUCK U I AM WORTH WAY MORE THAN CANDY AND A DOLLAR

-> charles_leclerc that is not the issue here

charles_leclerc pretty girl

-> logansargeant keep your thoughts to yourself you hormonal vulgarian

-> yourusername TIME OUT FOR U let my bf live

-> charles_leclerc this is how my life is going to be from now on?

-> yourusername are u complaining (threatening)

-> username i KNOW logan is shaking behind the screen he just called charles leclerc a hormonal vulgarian

-> username sibling rage takes people places they wouldn't go with a gun

username this is hilarious

username logan's likes on twt are mind blowing like what do u MEAN u wish the plague on ur sister 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

-> yourusername u should see what his texts look like

-> yourusername "you need an excoeciscism for the demon in u it might an issue idk" followed by quora links

-> username siblings ❤️

≡.;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, logansargeant, carlossainz55 and 2,729,915 others

charles_leclerc silently working on our own little crafts in the same room tonight, queen? ❤️

tagged yourusername

11,628 comments

username CRYINGGGGG I HATE HIS GUTS

username LET IT ONCE BE ME HOLY SHITTTTTT

username they're so parents it's insane

username he's so relatable bc i too would be obsessed with y/n

username he definitely has one of those t-shirts that say "i ❤️ my gf"

-> yourusername he has one in every colour with diff fonts :((((

-> username GOODBYE

username need me a man who will sit in my general vicinity while we work on our own silly little crafts together

-> username charles might've just set a standard idk NEVER SETTLE FOR LESS

username that text.............im violently ill

username the matching rings wow god really does have favourites

yourusername wait a sec i got 12000% error on my scale

-> landonorris how do you even manage to do that

-> yourusername if u think women don't belong in stem just say that

-> landonorris STOP IT MY PR TEAM IS HUNTING ME DOEN FOR SPROT TAKE JT BACK

-> charles_leclerc shame on you

-> landonorris WJAT DID I DO

-> username crying they're terrorizing people for fun 😭

-> username we deserve this

yourusername fighting demons (a degree that i chose to study) to be on my phone bc my BOYFRIEND posted

-> charles_leclerc don't give logan more reasons to send me vaguely veiled threats

-> yourusername he does WHAT

-> logansargeant sending him links on how people got away with murder is HARDLY a threat idk why you're like this

-> username no way they got him UNHINGED

-> username 😭😭😭😭😭 he's so

yourusername MY BABY LEO 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

-> charles_leclerc i am right there

-> yourusername so is leo 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

yourusername are u mitosis bc i never metaphase as cute as urs

-> charles_leclerc i am too dumb to understand this but you are the prettiest

-> yourusername king i am so in love with u

-> logansargeant i judt tfeew up

-> yourusername leave me ALONE

username i hope all the happy couples break up (why couldn't it be me in a relationship)

username SCREAMING HE'S SO DOWN BAD

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

[mindtrcks]

asmr | CL16

Charles has been having trouble sleeping. Your videos seem to be the only thing that helps.

WC: 5.4k

Notes: performance coach!reader who dabbles in asmr (but only for charles <3), smut, phone sex/mutual masturbation.

Charles has been having trouble sleeping lately.

It could be because of timezones, or how much coffee he drinks. But it probably has more to do with the way he’s been watching the Drivers Championship slip further and further out of his grip with every passing week. But to admit that would be to admit that he’s losing control of the car, and with it, himself. To admit that would be to admit that there's nothing he can do about it.

So he claims that he’s merely been a little restless at night. He’s told to try calming teas before bed, so he does. But then he just has to get up and use the restroom. He counts hundreds of sheep without getting tired, and ocean noises and whale sounds just pound around in his skull until he turns them off. He tries picturing the schematics of the SF24 in his head until he has a perfect rendition in his mind. But then he thinks of how it feels to drag it back into the pits, and works himself up so much he can’t even close his eyes.

He’s growing more than just a little restless. He thinks he might be getting desperate.

—

“Have you tried warm milk?” Andrea asks him, when Charles shows up to training with bags under his eyes, yet again.

“Yes, no luck,” he answers. He doesn’t know a kind way to say that he’s tried everything that appears on the first five pages of google when he searches for insomnia remedies, including an American military tactic that’s supposed to work in ten seconds. (Charles has found it doesn’t work at all.)

Andrea makes a sympathetic sound and begins to guide Charles through a warm-up. His limbs don’t stretch as far as they would if he had gotten a good night’s sleep.

As he struggles, your voice calls out, from the corner, “Wait, he’s allowed to eat dairy?”

And that is something he is still getting used to. You, shadowing his sessions with Andrea. You’re preparing for your transfer to a team that shall not be named, as you like to say. Charles figures it must be a team that pays well, because you take the NDA quite seriously. When Andrea first told him about the arrangement, he worried it would be awkward, but he quickly found the opposite to be true. You talk quite a lot for a soon-to-be head performance coach. It’s comfortable. He likes your chatter, even if it’s a bit inane at times.

“Drink dairy,” he corrects, just to hear you huff.

The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because then Andrea’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him further into his lunge, and deepening the burn in his thighs. “Milk is healthy,” Andrea tells you, sounding like a professor. Like he really thinks you don’t understand the merits of drinking milk. Charles just thinks you want to be difficult. “Also, he has an ice cream company.”

“Yeah, but I didn't think he started it for the love of ice cream. Plus, everybody makes it seem like drivers can only eat gruel. I need to shadow a nutritionist or something.”

Andrea lets him stand up, and instructs him to start stretching his arms now. “You don’t have to make the meal plan,” he says, once adequately satisfied with Charles’ form. “They can just find Dan—”

You interrupt him with a gasp and a rushed, “Shshsh,” not quite a shush, but something close. Like calling a cat. “You can’t say who it is,” you say, waving your arms. But then you freeze, and Charles can see the moment your face lights up with an idea. He knows, instinctively, that it can’t be good. “Wait. Charles, have you tried ASMR?”

He briefly debates lying, but he’s not sure he has a good enough poker face to get away with it normally, much less when Andrea pulls his arm up and introduces a new ache to the stretch. “I have tried, but it did not help much,” he admits, choosing to ignore both the delight on your face and the reserved judgment on Andrea’s. “It felt weird to have some stranger try to put me to sleep.”

“Ah, so you need your own personal ASMRtist, just for you?” you ask, eyebrows raising. Charles would feel shame, but he is just too tired. He watches you turn to Andrea and shake your head. “These drivers, man.”

Charles just sighs. Andrea makes his way to the treadmill, and Charles sighs again, this time with feeling.

—

He doesn’t think much of it, as he goes through the workout. Andrea works him hard enough that he doesn’t think much of anything at all. That is, until he’s doing crunches and your face suddenly appears above him, grinning down. “I could do it, if you wanted to try ASMR again. I could make you some, seeing as I’m not a stranger.”

At this point, Charles would try just about anything. Exhausted, and sweaty, and struggling to finish his set, he grunts, “Sure. If it is not a problem.”

“No problem at all,” you say, throwing him an exaggerated wink.

He’s lost too much sleep over the past few weeks to spend time parsing out whatever that means.

—

A week later, and Charles has honestly forgotten about the entire thing until you text him out of the blue on a Monday afternoon.

what kind of things do you like?

for your asmr :)

He stares down at his phone and tries to think of a reasonable way to respond to that. He has watched ASMR before, yes. It’s true that if it exists on the first five pages of google, he has already tried it. But all of the videos he watched were too creepy, or too loud, or again, too impersonal. He didn’t really discover anything that worked, except maybe for the lack of traffic in the background.

I like for it to be quiet, he sends, eventually. He’s not sure what else to offer. As he watches you type, he hopes that you won't put too much effort into this whole thing. Charles is not very hopeful that it will help in the first place.

well, yes!

i mean do you like talking? or water sounds or something?

I’m not sure, he types. And then, just to ease your expectations, adds, Honestly it will probably not work either way

have you no faith in me?

He doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he turns his phone off instead of overthinking.

—

It’s Wednesday night by the time you text him again.

for you, the message reads. There's a video attached, of course. He has to wait for it to download to his phone before he can see the cover image: you, sitting at a hotel room desk, smiling softly. Your hand is blurry in the frame, like you're pulling it back after pressing record.

He feels something tight in his stomach, a jump of anticipation. If his problem was the impersonality of the few videos he’s tried on YouTube, this would definitely fix that. The frame looks like something he might see if he were to do a video call with you. Something he might see if you were really talking to him.

Pressing play seems dangerous. He thinks it will probably not work, but there's the nagging thought in the back of his mind of what if it does? What if, after all the home remedies and melatonin and sleepless nights, this is what finally works? Your voice, your face, on a video just for him. How is he meant to deal with the repercussions of that?

It's a war within himself, whether to press play or not. The fact is that he needs to get sleep before free practice in the morning. But he cannot honestly say that watching your video would help any more than staring up at the hotel ceiling, counting the cracks and divots. Picturing sheep jumping over a fence, like his maman always said.

It is almost like his phone is singing to him, though. In a voice that maybe sounds like a siren’s or maybe sounds like yours.

He cannot help it. He presses play.

“Hi, Charles,” your voice whispers in the quiet of his hotel room.

Instantly, he panics and shuts his phone off. Much too dangerous, he thinks. The sheep will work just fine.

—

He wakes up feeling more exhausted than he has ever felt.

It’s bad, he knows. He hardly has anything to say to the reporters who try to talk to him before he gets in the car. Free practice is a nightmare, and he nearly crashes out in the middle of a flying lap. And then, of course, he has to sit through an entirely long debrief in which all that seems to be said is how he needs to be focusing more. Concentrating on what's important.

“Maybe you just need to get more sleep,” you offer, like you know, somehow, that he was too much of a coward to watch the video you sent. That you can see how he didn't even try.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

There are sympathetic faces, and then he’s sent back to the hotel early, with firm instructions to go to bed.

—

He tries to fall asleep on his own. He drinks tea and plays whale noises and even does yoga poses, which do nothing but aggravate his muscles, already sore from his incident in free practice.

In the end, there's nothing to be done. He rolls over and grabs his phone, resolving that, if nothing else, he will try. And even if it doesn't work, then he at least will know, and he can stop thinking about you sitting at that desk, whispering his name.

He presses play before he can convince himself otherwise.

“Hi, Charles,” you say, on the video. The room around you is dimly lit, the kind of yellow light in hotel rooms that makes everything look a bit hazy. You’re wearing your Ferrari polo, but you've pulled a zip-up over it. Charles always thought you looked very nice in red. He isn't sure if he's supposed to close his eyes or not.

“I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

He watches you talk until you instruct him in a quiet voice to close his eyes, and he’s thankful for the clarification. It’s an easier instruction to follow than to just relax, like the YouTube videos say. It’s easier to follow your instructions, period, he thinks. He’s used to it, from your input in training sessions. Straighten your back, widen your stance, do two more. It’s rote, listening to you. And your voice is melodic, comforting. He listens contently as you tell him to count down from ten, and to guess whether you’re snapping with your left or right hand. You start making that sound you’d made at Andrea during his last training session with you, a hushed shshshsh, and Charles finds himself yawning.

Maybe it’s a trust thing. Maybe he finds himself getting tired because he knows he can fall asleep without worrying about you randomly screaming on the video, or interrupting the quiet with an ad halfway through.

Maybe it’s just because it’s you.

He’s asleep before he can come to a conclusion.

—

“You’re looking refreshed this morning,” you chirp at him, when you cross paths in the paddock.

He feels a flush rise high on his cheeks. I wonder why, he thinks. Outwardly, he admits, “Yes, I slept well last night.” And then, after a moment, adds, quieter, “Thank you.”

Your smile is softer than the usual grin you level him with. Still, he can tell you’re proud of yourself. “And you didn’t think it would work. See, Charles, your performance coach always knows best.”

He finds himself feeling grateful for your capacity for talking, once again. When he woke up, he was nervous he wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation with you anymore, or wouldn’t be able to force himself into acting normal. Now, though, it still feels just as easy. “You’re not my performance coach,” he states.

It gets him an eye roll. “Right, I’m your personal ‘ASMRtist.’”

You whisper the word, which he isn’t quite sure is a real word to begin with, and it’s almost like he’s watching the video again.

He knew it was dangerous clicking play.

—

With sleep, his performance improves.

It’s nothing miraculous. The car is still the car; the team is still the team. But it feels less like he’s fighting, or like control is slipping through his fingers at every turn. He starts to enjoy it a bit more, even during the rough times. Everything had felt so much worse when he knew that he could spend the entire day wrestling with the car, and wouldn’t even be able to sleep it off when the race was over. Now, he breathes easier knowing that your video is waiting for him.

You send him another, during the two weeks off in April, and then one more after his podium in Miami. He rotates through the three of them based on how he’s feeling, or how long he thinks it’ll take. (Sometimes, he feels a bit spoiled for choice, and starts brainstorming ways to pay you back.) Though he likes them all, he does have a favorite. The one you sent after Miami. You start it by telling him congratulations and saying that you know he’ll be on the top step soon.

It would be one thing if you mentioned his podium finish off-handedly, just the once. But no. The entire video goes on like that, soft encouragement sprinkled throughout, like a reward for racing well.

Whenever he watches that one, your voice follows him into sleep, where he dreams of you encouraging him to do other things, completely unrelated to racing.

—

His problem then becomes wholly unrelated to sleep, and completely having to do with you.

It’s like he’s pavloved himself into wanting to hear your voice, or see your face. He tells Andrea that he would not mind if you sat in on more of his training sessions, just so he can argue with you about the difference between cartwheels and somersaults, electric stoves versus gas, flying commercial or private. He gets to the garage early to see you warm up the mechanics, a thinly veiled excuse to watch you doing squats. He doesn’t put his headphones in while he walks around hospitality, on the off chance that he’ll get to hear your voice.

He once wondered what the repercussions of watching your videos would be. Now, he knows.

—

Monaco is a dream that cannot be deterred by his growing obsession with you.

Charles has been finding it hard to keep his eyes dry ever since the last lap. His mechanics pull him into a hug, and he feels like he’s flying. Arthur is there, crying. Charles never thought he could do it. Jumping into the water feels like victory. It is victory.

There will be a big celebration, he is sure.

You’ll be proud of him, he is even surer.

—

He’s not thinking about sleeping until you find him outside of his drivers’ room, and take him by the shoulders. “I told you you’d do it,” you say, pulling him into a hug that’s tight like a vice-grip.

His voice is muffled by your hair when he says, through a throat still tight with tears, “I am glad I got a good rest last night.”

You laugh as you pull back from him. It is hard to see through the wetness in his eyes, but he thinks he can see a similar shine in your own. He’s not sure what to do with that. There are all these people who are so proud of him, and now you’re one of them. Now you’re holding his shoulders and crying with him. It’s nice. He feels cared for. He wants you there after every win.

“Well, I’m glad to be of service,” you say. “I’m not sure when you’ll be going to bed tonight, but call me if you need help sleeping, Charles. Among other things.”

You punctuate your sentence with a wink, and then you’re gone, leaving him with the memory of your grin at the front of his mind, like an image burned into a TV screen.

—

He is going out tonight. The whole of Monaco will be celebrating him. The team will be waiting to greet him with open arms and open bars. People will want to pour some more champagne on him, and get him drunk, and find a dance floor.

He is going out tonight, but right now, he’s sitting alone in his hotel room, thinking about what you had said.

Among other things, accompanied by a wink. A wink. That’s flirting, he thinks. No, he knows. You’re flirting with him. You had winked at him when you first offered this whole arrangement, too. Charles hadn’t known what it meant. Hadn’t really cared. Now he wonders if you were flirting with him then, too.

It’s not so much of a stretch. You spend a lot of time with him, even if he has orchestrated most of it. It never seems like a chore for you to sit in on his training sessions. You gladly correct his form and tell him that he can take more. You’re a very hands-on performance coach, unafraid to touch him in places Andrea wouldn’t. Whenever Charles is alone in hospitality, you’re always quick to find him, eager to gossip about the mechanics or to share contraband pastries he’s definitely not supposed to eat. You make him the videos that started all of this. You tell him hi and congratulations and I’m proud of you. You talk to him in a quiet voice that he hears in his dreams now.

You care enough to cry over his win. Embarrassingly, that thought is what has him dipping his hand below the waistband of his briefs. He thinks he should not. He has places to be, soon. But he’s still a bit high off the adrenaline, and it’s been so long, anyway. If he is quick, it cannot hurt. This is what he tells himself, as he lays back against the pillow, and pretends he’s not thinking about you.

He doesn’t think of your lips, or your legs, or the way you look in Ferrari red. Or the way you would look as he pulls the Ferrari red off of you, ‘til you’re bare in front of him.

He’s not sure what compels him to pull up the first video you made him; it feels like a force beyond his control. Maybe it’s the memory of your grin, and your wink. Maybe he’s just crazy. Maybe he’s still just as desperate as when this all first started. Probably all of the above, he thinks, pressing play with as much shame as one can feel with their hand on their dick.

“Hi, Charles. I know you’re probably only watching this ‘cause you’re desperate, so I’ll try my best.”

You have hardly finished the first sentence when he closes out of the video with a shudder. Too weird, he thinks. He doesn’t want to tarnish the video. Or to use it for something you didn’t make it for. But now he won’t be able to stop thinking of you, or stop hearing your voice. He feels hot all over as he stares at your contact on his phone. You did say that he should call, even with other things. You had winked! Is this what you meant?

He is a race winner in Monaco. He decides to risk it.

“Hi, Charles,” you say when you answer, just like the video. Louder this time of course, since you’re not trying to put him to sleep.

It takes a moment for him to trust his voice. It would probably be easier if he stopped touching himself, but alas. He manages to get it out eventually. “Hello. You said to call if I needed help.”

“Oh, sleeping?” You ask, after making a shocked sound in the back of your throat that—in a different context—could be interpreted as something else. He has to choke down a gasp, and somehow, you don’t notice. “Wow, early night.”

He swallows, braces himself. “Not sleeping,” he admits. “You said I could call with other things, too.” His voice comes out so quiet with shame that he's almost surprised you can hear it all. You’re silent on the other end for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. His hand stills where he had been touching himself as he waits with bated breath, half-expecting you to hang up on him.

You don’t. “Charles,” you say. There’s an edge to your voice that he’s never heard before, something vaguely scandalized and entirely too much to handle. He strokes himself, again, unable to stop himself, and hears you inhale sharply. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry if this is not what you meant. I can hang up.”

“No, no it's fine,” you say. He can hear shuffling across the phone. Just like pressing play on your video was dangerous, this is, too. Because now his imagination is left to run wild, and he wonders if you're in bed like him, if you're taking off the Ferrari polo, if you're touching yourself. “I've gotta be honest, I don't really—er, I haven't exactly done this before,” you confess.

“That's okay.” There’s a shy, nervous energy about you that he can feel through the phone. It's not something he’s used to; you're always the one with something to say, cocksure and easy. Maybe now it's his turn to take the lead. Maybe this way he can finally pay you back for all your effort in making him the videos. “This is something you want, yes?”

“Charles, I offered.”

And he supposes that is true enough. “Right,” he says, steeling himself. This is something he can handle. It's not like he's used to it by any means; it feels strange that you're not here with him, stranger that you’re doing this in the first place. But he can't exactly stop now. The slide of his palm against his dick feels nice enough on its own, but the prospect of you, on the other end of the line listening is something else entirely.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

He feels like a dick even before you laugh out a shocked, “Jesus Christ, Charles.”

Still, he knows there are only so many ways that this goes. “It is how you do it!” he defends “I say ‘what are you wearing’ and you say—well, you know what you say.”

“But you know what I’m wearing. Ferrari shirt. Jeans. My uniform.”

He does know. He has been picturing you in red this whole time. But it's not as if he had asked out of curiosity. He asked so that he could tell you, “Yes, it’s probably not comfortable. You should take it off.”

He hears the sound of your throat clicking as you swallow. “Oh,” you say, really nothing more than a huff of air. It feels just as close to victory as jumping into the water.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he instructs, to the sounds of more shuffling. He can picture it, in his head. You, pulling off your shirt, ridding yourself of the jeans. Laying back just like him, waiting patiently for instructions. It’s becoming difficult to think through the blood rush to his dick.

“Done,” you say, plainly. He wants nothing more than to be able to see you, touch you. He wonders if your hotel room is cold, if you have goosebumps he could chase away with his hands. The thought distracts him, until you huff, “Charles.”

“Ah, sorry,” he says. It really is hard to think, especially when you're saying his name like that, breathy and soft and naked in bed on the phone with him. His dick twitches and he has to pull his hand away for a moment before continuing. “If I were there, do you know how I would touch you?”

The sound you make is almost like he’s punched you in the stomach. “You’re such a tease, just tell me.”

It’s easy to imagine, as he tugs on his dick. He’s not too proud to say that he's thought of this before. Maybe not over the phone, but you, with him, together. “I would take my time to thank you properly. I would touch your thighs, and your stomach first. Just lightly. You should, too.” He can tell you’re listening based on the way your breaths come in harsher. “Does it feel nice?”

“Yeah,” you answer, sounding dazed. Charles understands, deeply. He cannot believe this is happening, that you’re doing this with him, touching yourself the way he instructs.

You seem content for a moment, but when he doesn't specify anything further, it's not long before you seem to want more. “I could do this on my own,” you whine, a pitch to your voice that he never wants to stop hearing. He files the sound away in the same corner of his mind that remembers what you sound like talking him to sleep. Distantly, he hears the sheets moving beneath you, and can't help but to imagine you writhing on the bed, aching for more.

“I can hang up and leave you to it,” he threatens, with absolutely no intentions to make good on it.

The sound of the sheets rustling stops. “You’re not being very nice. Some 'thank you’ this is.”

You are a bit of a brat, he thinks. He should've known, really. You always seem to have something to say. But he certainly won't complain about it now, not when the sound of your voice is enough to make him believe that you’re there, that it’s you touching him, faster now, than before.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Proper thanks are in order, right? You can touch yourself where you want to.”

Your breath hitches, and he can practically see you, on your bed, your fingers working expertly at yourself. “Are you?” you ask, and it takes him a moment to recall the line of conversation.

When he does, he chokes out, “Yes, I—have been.”

“Chivalry is dead,” you sigh out.

He still tries to defend himself, even as the sound of skin slapping against skin becomes more and more pronounced in the emptiness of the room. “I’m being nice! You help me to sleep so now I will help you to come.” He hears you squawk a laugh, but it quickly turns into something more like a moan. “Ah, see? I am helping.”

“You’re not doing anything.”

He briefly debates the merits of walking through the hotel sweating and hard in his underwear to find you. But he thinks the team leads at Ferrari would prefer if he did not. He supposes that imagining will work just fine, for now. “If I were there, I would use my mouth,” he decides. “You could sit on my face, I would let you.”

“Oh,” you say. He pictures you with your head thrown back, chest heaving, and hid dick twitches in his hand. “Maybe you are a gentleman.”

Eh, this is not very gentlemanly, he doesn't think. If he were a gentleman, he would've taken you to dinner, or something. Not called you with his hand already down his pants. Still, he says, “Yes.” And then: “You should put your fingers inside.”

It might be his imagination, but he swears he can hear it, the slick slide, muffled by the sound you make, a choked mewl. “Good,” he says, and he thinks your answering groan may be equal parts frustrated and aroused.

He has to adjust himself against the pillows. Holding the phone makes it awkward; he considers dropping it and putting you on speaker, but he doesn't think he's quite ready to be able to hear your voice and your hands your noises projected in the room. It feels more intimate like this, just for him. And he would have to open his eyes to put you on speaker, have to stop picturing you fucking yourself with your fingers, at his request. It's not an image he plans on abandoning soon.

He hears your breaths become heavier and heavier over the phone, accompanied by sounds that slowly drive him insane, moans like a pornstar’s instead of a performance coach’s. If this is what you are like just from your own fingers, he cannot imagine how nice he could make you feel on his dick.

“I would fuck you,” he says, after a particularly nice stroke. He feels a little crazy with it. He won't last much longer, he knows. You called him a gentleman but he might finish first. At this point, there's nothing he can do about it.

The little hah you say into the receiver certainly doesn't help. “That would be—I can't say I haven't thought about it.”

“What did you think about?” he asks. He has to know now.

You make a tortured sound. He pictures you trying to hide your face, or squirm away from your own hands. His hips buck into his fist; he pretends it's you.

“I don't know. Everything, Charles,” you confess, through heavy breaths. “When you would take your shirt off in the gym, I’d think of you fucking me on the equipment. You made it very hard to take notes. Sometimes I'd think of you, like, fucking me in your car. The car.”

“There is not much room,” he says, instead of examining why that thought nearly sends him careening off the edge.

“Knowing that is above my pay grade.”

“I could fuck you on the hood, maybe,” he hums. The image is—god, he’s really not going to last. “My two favorite things.”

The sound that comes out of you is a mix of his name, and several assorted swears, and maybe something about Ferrari firing you. But your voice is shaky and you gasp like it’s over, like you just made yourself—

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Did you—”

“Yes,” you squeak, like you're embarrassed. He didn't know you had the capacity. “Oh my god, Charles.”

It’s his name on your tongue that has him finally spilling his load with a shout that he hopes is mostly muffled by the hotel walls. He’s pretty sure Fred is the next room over, something he hadn't wanted to think about with his hand in his dick and still doesn't want to think about now, cum drying in his boxers and you catching your breath on the other end of the line.

“Is that what you meant?” Charles asks eventually. “When you said I should call you?”

You sound almost sheepish when you answer. “Yeah, but to be honest I didn't think you’d pick up on it.”

“I thought it might have been just wishful thinking. The adrenaline made me do it.”

“Well, you were very good at it. I think you could make better asmr than me.”

He shudders at the thought. He cannot imagine doing what you do, whispering to his phone camera and pretending it's you. He's grateful for your lack of shame, because he's not sure he’d be able to do it were the roles reversed. “No, I'll leave that to you.” And then, because he’s still running mostly off of adrenaline: “Maybe we can talk more later? In person?”

He can hear the grin in your voice when you answer. “I’d be mad that you're hanging up on me, but I think you may be trying to invite me to your party?”

“You know you're already invited. But maybe you could come with me?”

“It’s a date,” you answer, which makes Charles three for three on victories for the day. Somehow, this one feels the most monumental. Maybe it's because of the cum still drying in his briefs. “I’ll wear something more fun to take off than my team kit.”

—

You wear something that's honestly rather difficult to take off, but he quickly discovers that you're good with your hands, and layer, he discovers that ASMR is not the only trick up your sleeve to tire him out.

[makeupbychio]

training season // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Your actual training class sucks, so you asked Logan for his help if he’ll like to train you. He accepted and unexpected feelings were developed. The goal is to make you stronger and one of the best with or without your powers.

Warnings: Cursing, physical fights, injuries due to the fights, mutual romantic and sexual tension, vague mention of smut, Logan feeling unworthy, Storm cameo, just two idiots in love without saying it. Mentions of the Professor, Scott and Jean. Angst but with a fluff happy ending.

Words: 4k.

A/N: First things first, english is not my first language so I’m sorry if there is a mistake but I needed to write about this old man we all love so much. Also, very important to mention that your powers are related to energy and nature manipulation, and also you are a grown woman despite the fact that you take classes in the mansion. Thank you, hope you enjoy <3 Comments, feedback or ideas are welcome!! <3

- - -

From the moment you stepped into the mansion Logan knew you were going to be partners in crime. At first you were so cautious with your words and actions, it was because you never thought that you were going to find a safe place for you as a mutant, but once you saw all of the people that lived there and shared same fears and also joys, people just like you, you started to be your true self. Not just with your personality but also get the chance to get to know more about your powers and how to control it and be stronger.

The first times you talked to Logan were always with the Professor near, he was always trying to convince him to have his own class to teach the kids. All the times that conversation went on it was when Charles needed to talk to you or vice versa in places where Logan always somehow got it the way.

From your spot you saw every time they leave for a mission. And every day you work your ass off to be at their level and be part of the group because you wanted to be useful and contribute something to the x-men and not just live there and take classes.

One time you were walking to your class that Storm was in charge of, due to your ecokinesis powers being related to nature too, when Logan was going in the opposite direction. It was funny because he had such a serious face all the time but with you he always stopped to say hi and ask you how you are. Now or never you thought to yourself.

“Fine, thanks and you?” you asked him, looking up at him, you were grabbing your books close to your chest.

“Good, just going to the kitchen to grab some breakfast” he smiled at you looking at everything you were carrying.

You were so nervous to ask him about this but you saw what he could do, you stuttered and paced anxiously in front of him. “Cool, look I have like ten seconds before I’m late to Storms but I’ve been trying to ask you if you would like to give me a couple of training lessons? I know that you don’t want to have your own class, you made that very clear, trust me but…”

Despite your anxiety, you never break eye contact with him. So you saw how slowly his features changed to a surprise. He never expected that question from you. “Not to be mean, but why is that, princess?” he asked you full of curiosity.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen videos of you fighting and I need to be at that level” you answered him but still he wasn’t stoned because for him it is hard to love his powers sometimes since he’s been always treated as a weapon only. “Also, Scott classes are boring as fuck” you rolled your eyes just by remembering that you have that class before lunch.

Logan laughed at your statement, a cocky grin on his face now. His ego at his best because you were asking for his help instead of Scott. Logan didn’t want to admit that he would do it not just because to rub it in Scott’s face but also because since you arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every time you are around someone of the team he tries to crash the talk just to get to talk to you, he doesn’t know why he does that instead of just talking to you.

“Meet me at the lake after lunch, and we can discuss this better” Logan gives you a wink, you smiled at him with a thank you and rushed to your classroom. Storm was already outside in the hallway waiting for you, watching Logan disappear. She knows him, and she knew what this was all about.

So deals were made that day, and he promised to give you some training lessons with the condition you promised him to always give your 200% to every lesson. You didn’t know how many lessons he was going to offer but when he knocked at your door to go on you never gave him an excuse, sometimes you trained really late when you should be studying or sleeping, you were training with Logan. You were not doing anything illegal but you can sense that maybe the Professor would not like this, or maybe yes.

At first the whole time together was dedicated to just training. You didn’t have a spot, sometimes the lesson was outside, sometimes inside. But after a couple of them, in between you two found time to get to know each other. Logan was amazed by the whole you. About how fast you learn, about your charming but badass personality, about your powers, about you always being so honest and empathetic. So he found himself so mesmerized and in love with you. He kept his promise and with your hard work, lots of hours of study and training sessions the goal was for you to get to control your powers and be one of the strongest.

About two months passed and to get to train you better he had a lot of conversations with Storm in her classroom for him to get to know and understand your power so you could use it for better, also to get to know your limits with it.

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” Storm asked him once he reached her for answers of your powers. She wanted to make sure you were not going to end up with a broken heart. “She’s my best student and once she’s ready I’m going to talk to Charles to include her in the team” she looked at him with a deadly look without blinking to not miss a single thing from his face to reveal the truth.

“That’s exactly why! I want her on the team too!” Logan tried to escape his friend. “You said it yourself, she’s your best student, and with her actual training lessons she was going nowhere, no progress”.

“So since you are so committed to having more people on the team, I’m going to tell Charles you are okay to have your own class” Storm kept testing him. Logan sighed, trying to keep in secret his feelings. “Don’t do this to her if you are still in love with another person…” Storm said, with pleading eyes because during this time she got to know you too and consider you a friend besides her best student. Womanhood at its best.

Logan looked at Storm with a surprised expression at the accusation. He got serious and sat down in front of her, he took the chair and placed it with anger. “Okay you want to know the truth? First, I totally agree with you that she’s the best, I hope that you are talking not just about her grades that she gets in your class, I hope you’re talking about her whole persona because you know what happened? Since you think you know me so well. I don’t care anymore about Jean since a long time ago. You understand? That happened like a century ago, so you know what happened to me?” Logan was unstoppable with his speech now that his friend got him on his nerves, Storm knew this was going to be a monologue without letting her say something. “It happened to me to get to know someone so pure, so smart, so kind, not just incredibly beautiful but someone who really makes me think this world can be fixed for the better and also makes feel every time I’m with her that this is actually a place where I belong to for fuck sake!”. He growls finally pouring his heart out to his friend. He was scared to finally accept his feelings towards you.

Storm didn’t know what to say, she didn’t mean to upset him or to make him remember the awful times he had with Jean. Also, she was speechless because you were just at the entrance of her classroom god knew since when, your figure standing there lost of words too.

You arrived just in time when Logan was giving Storm the answer the mutant was looking for. You were not looking for Logan, you were there outside her classroom because you had to deliver the paper she asked the class the week before. You knocked first but Logan’s words were louder for them to hear you.

Of course after that, your whole relationship changed with Logan. But at that moment you didn’t know what to do, what to say. It crossed your mind that maybe he had feelings for you but when you arrived at the mansion the first thing you knew about Logan was the whole Jean thing, so every time you had a vague thought that maybe he liked you your mind immediately reminds you about his story with Jean. So you tried to keep it professional but with every conversation you had with him you found yourself also falling for him.

Also, during the lessons he never crossed the line with you. NEVER. Even when you hinted him that he could, he never did it. That’s also another reason why you thought he was not into you. So you were confused because he always gives you the brightest smile, told you his darkest secrets and got him calling you all the pretty nicknames, but never took advantage of the situation. Because for the training he had to touch you, to correct your postures, to teach you the attacks, fight against him, etc. But he touched you with a firm and yet soft grip. He was a true gentleman so even when you flirted with him, he never made a move on you.

Logan was also dealing with this confusion, his mind also getting the best of him tricking him every night he went to bed if you were flirting with him or you were just being nice to him. So he wasn’t going to push you until you told him directly about your feelings or what you wanted.

Just two idiots in love without knowing the other one is in love too. Classic.

“Y/N…” Logan said once he noticed you were standing outside Storm’s classroom. Storm felt like shit to push his friend like that. If he only knew you were in love too, but you got scared and ran away.

“Fuck…” Logan murmured to himself. He should have told you how he felt, but time passed within your lessons with him and his mind just assured him you were not into him because of all of the awful things he had done in the past and told you about it. He didn’t want to scare you so he gave you your space. “Well, now I think I don’t have to do this anymore, thank you Storm” Logan sat up from the tiny chair compared to his body, Storm also sat up from her desk wanting to say something to her friend but at this moment it was going to make it worse.

Thanks to the universe, you didn’t have more classes that day so you ran and hid in your room. That night you had training with Logan but after your cowardice you assumed Logan was not going to knock at your door for a lesson. You tortured yourself in bed all day about what to do because at some point you needed to leave your room, you skipped lunch and dinner. Logan still showed up at the casino and hoped to see you, when he didn’t he noted himself clearly to not bother you.

You debate on how to deal with this situation, Logan has a special spot in your heart to ruin everything. If he didn’t see you in that way as you feel for him it’s okay. You hope that at least you could be friends or just future colleagues. You are a grown woman so you can deal with a broken heart, it wouldn’t be the first time. So you changed in your training clothes, maybe for the last time because you also would understand if Logan doesn’t want to do this anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” your roommate screamed at you that maybe someone heard them in the hallway. You told them about what happened earlier, they knew about the training sessions when they were worried about you why you left the room every night till late. “HE LITERALLY TOLD STORM HOW HE FELT FOR YOU, THAT HE LOVES YOU!”.

“No- I- He didn’t say he loves me” you corrected them.

“UGH I CAN’T WITH YOUR STUBBORNNESS SOMETIMES, MAYBE HE DID NOT SAY IT EXPLICITLY BUT HE SAID ALL OF THOSE AMAZING THINGS ABOUT YOU AND HOW YOU MADE HIM FEEL THAT’S LITERALLY LOVE!” they were about to hit you in the face to wake up from whatever delusional dream you were. “Go and fix this, if you really like him he should know”. They couldn’t blame your fear, you’d been through a lot and as a mutant they understand the feeling that you don’t deserve that kind of love because you were different.

After that awakening help from your friend you find the courage and before you chickened out you left your room to head to Logan’s room. It felt like it was so far away, like you were moving in slow motion. Once you arrived, you tried to knock on the door but Logan opened it to leave his room. His features changed immediately into a smile, so happy to see you. “Hi princess, I was about to go to your room to…” he explained.

“Logan, please hear me out. I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have ran away, I just- I never thought you would see me like that because I don’t think I deserve it, but what I’m trying to say is…” Logan never saw this side of you, nervous around him. Not even when you were also telling him your darkest secrets. He had always seen you so confident about yourself and your skills.

“Sugar, what if we go outside to train and we can discuss this also” Logan knows how to make you feel better. You always loosen up when both of you are training. It was a safe space, maybe it was all of the exercise that makes you feel relaxed or maybe that you both were alone without any pressure.

“Okay, yeah. Great idea, I’ll follow you” all the time you next to him heading outside to your favorite spot, the lake. It was late and the stars were shining bright. It was relaxing to see the water so calm and the warm breeze. The lake was really far away from the rooms, a lot of trees with damages due to the training of other students' powers, including yourself, that’s why the training classes were outside, most of them.

Somehow Logan just started the class like nothing happened earlier. “Okay princess, this one is going to be different. You have to knock me down with your skills and tactics I taught you”. he challenges you, ready for you to make your move. “I’m not going to give you an advantage, so…” he gave you a cocky smile. He was so ready, in another hand you were shitting bricks.

“Logan I don’t think I can do that, I’m- I don’t want to hurt you” you were regretting your decision, the truth is that your mind was full of what happened today that you can not think about anything else, so you were going to lose really fast.

“You can use your powers if you want, I’m not scared of it or of you. If you need to use them, go ahead, remember I heal really fast”. Logan was always encouraging you and celebrating your powers, not just because they are fucking awesome but also to make you feel good and make peace with them.

You’d learn a lot in every class about your powers, the natural energy manipulation you are connected to. You can communicate, influence, manipulate and control nature. Thanks to Logan’s words you feel confident that you can beat him easily by snapping your fingers to control something around him and win the challenge.

You recently learned about magma so you think about hitting with a magma fist, but rapidly he ran to you and knocked you down. “Okay, so this is going to be physical”. You groaned at the sudden pain, he was going to put it hard for you because you needed to learn to fight in case you were not able or stable to use your powers.

He was not going to use his claws, he surpasses you in height and weight but that didn’t stop you. He’s fast but after all of this time he teaches you some of his own tricks so you are now using them against him. This will be the only circumstance he will be throwing hands at you, and he’s still being gentle with you. Due to all the movement you are approaching the lake, so you corner him and with a kick on his ankle he is down.

Logan is trying his best to concentrate, he feels so stupid for being busy thinking how gorgeous you look tonight under the moonlight. So he got distracted easily when you pulled your hair up and next thing he was down on the floor so you took the opportunity to manipulate the ground around him, lifting him where he was laying and throwing him into the lake.

You didn’t punch him too hard so you hope he’s not going to drown. And he didn’t, he quickly surfaces his head. “Good job, princess!” he was so happy, already healing the pain you caused him with the kick. He was so happy all of the training was going so well with you.

“I’m sorry, Lo” you felt bad now looking at him stepping out the lake all wet. He got closer looking for your injuries, in case he accidentally used his claws. He is in front of you, really close looking for your permission to touch your scratches you got in your arm when he knocked you down. You just nod at him. He always asks for your permission even when you've been training for a while now. Every single time.

Unexpectedly, he touched your neck, finding a small scratch. You almost turned into stone at the sudden touch. His cold hand, due to the cold water that was still pouring all over his body, made you shiver. “I’m sorry” he looked at your face, that pretty face.

”Don’t worry, Lo. It was probably the dirt that made that. Not you” you assured him.

“I’m not talking about that.” now with a sad look on his face, almost like regret. “I’m not good at this, maybe because I’m not worthy but I should’ve told you about how I felt, about how YOU make me feel”. His body finally relaxing, feeling his chest like unraveling a really big knot.

You are getting all emotional, you shouldn’t have ran away that morning, you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings making him think that you didn’t reciprocate the love.

His hand is still on your neck, the other one holding your lower back. You ran your hand on his wet hair to put it all back, some of his locks covering his pretty face. You escape a small laugh looking at the new hair style. “What are you talking about? You deserve all of the good and love, I’m sorry for earlier but we are really dumb because I thought about the same about not being worthy of your love and also I thought you still have feelings for, well, you know, the rumors, so that’s why I never told you”. You leaned your head on his hand.

He brushed your tears with his finger, never wanting to see you cry again. “Like I said before, this is the first time I feel this and it feels really good because thanks to you I feel that I belong and have a purpose. I promise you princess if you want, I’ll protect and love you every single day”. His face is close to yours. Tears keep falling but happy tears to finally find someone so kind. You finally close the gap between your faces and kiss him so tenderly, because you couldn’t find any more words after his declaration. His smile is so big while he holds you close to him, never wanting to let go of this moment.

Like a cliche movie, the sky made a sound and rain poured from the dark clouds. Logan was already wet from the lake so he didn’t mind. He only cares about you. You broke the kiss to breathe, you looked deeply into his eyes and found that sparkle he always has when you are around him, but this time more intense. He looked up at the sky smiling, “Did you do this?”, he asked you with an eyebrow raised.

He wasn’t going to believe any of your answers. Because your emotions sometimes take control of your powers, what you actually did is that a lot of tiny flowers bloomed around where you both were standing. “I’m just guilty about this” you pointed at the ground.

“Okay princess, let’s go before you catch a cold” he took your hand to guide you inside the mansion.

Next morning, you showed up at Storm’s class with a wide smile, so she knew that the rain she made last night worked to make the moment more perfect. It was her way to make up for her two friends.

It took you about 5 months when he told you you were ready. It was a non stop thing, some days you trained twice. There were days you didn’t want to attend, because you had a shitty day, because you were feeling under the weather, or you felt insecure and unworthy. Your mind gets the best of you but every time you opened the door when Logan knocked, you felt way better when he greeted you with a smile and big kiss. “Let’s go, princess. Today we need to improve your attacks”. Every night after the lesson you ended up staying at Logan’s room for some reason.

Professor Charles noticed your improvement thanks to the recommendations from Storm and Logan, so he invited you to join the team. The day he asked you, you were so happy that you said yes in a second and ran to find Logan to give the big news. He was outside, fixing his motorcycle, a cigar in his mouth. Once he sensed you, he was greeted with your arms around his neck hugging him, he was so happy when you told him how it went with the Professor.

“Welcome to the team, princess” he kissed you, holding you impossibly closer to his figure. He knows this is important for you and he’ll keep his promise till the end of days to protect you every single moment, especially now that you are going to be out in the field too.

“Thanks, babe! I guess now we should be more cautious about us around the team” you frowned at him. Not wanting to be one of those gross couples in public but for Logan it is really hard to keep his hands off you.

“Fuck them, you’re all mine and they should be grateful I stopped complaining like I used to” his arms hugging your lower back, and his hands mysteriously always end up grabbing your ass. You giggled at his attitude, knowing he’ll fight the team every time they’ll complain. “God, can’t wait to see you in that uniform! You’re going to look even sexier”. He got all excited and you can feel it by being so close to him. It’s going to be hard for him to hold himself if he’s already like this without even happening your first mission as an x-men. “I think the training season is going to come back”.

[vanishingcherry]

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

[cutielando]

the curse of monaco | c.l.

synopsis: in which Charles finally conquers Monaco

my masterlist

There was nothing like racing through the streets you grew up in, Charles would always say to you.

In all the years you had known him and been with him, he had only had one goal: winning the Monaco Grand Prix. 

You didn’t know why that was, whether it was a tribute to his late father, a tribute to Jules or just the pride of knowing he conquered the streets he had walked his entire life. Maybe it was a combination of all 3.

Charles had not been treated well by his home race the past couple of years. 2 DNFs, 1 DNS and 2 disappointing results had plagued his mind, making the weeks leading up to the race filled with more stress than he should carry.

But you had a good feeling this time. Ever since he got into the car in FP1, then topping the charts all throughout FP2 and FP3, you felt something in your gut change. For once, after so many doubtful years, there was no worry and disappointment in your heart as you waited in the garage for the qualifying session of the weekend. Every negative feeling was replaced with hope, so much hope that you didn’t know what to do with it.

Charles was the complete opposite. While he couldn’t deny that the car had finally come alive and he had the pace he needed, he felt like he couldn’t let himself hope too much, not after everything he’d been through.

“Come on, you know I’m right. You’ll be on pole and you’ll win the race” you said to him as you lounged in his driver room, watching him get dressed in his fireproofs and racing suit.

“Mon amour, you know how Monaco is. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed if I don’t get pole or don’t win” he reasoned, but deep down he was feeling the exact same thing you were.

“But this year is going to be different, I know it will!” you pressed on, making him chuckle in adoration at the hear of your determined voice. “Every other driver has said the same thing and every presenter from F1 TV is saying you’re definitely going to break the curse tomorrow” 

“Have you been watching F1 TV again to hear what they have to say about me?” he teased, laughing once he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“That’s not the point. I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about tomorrow. But still, no pressure. You go out there, drive safe and come back to me in one piece. If you end up winning, that’s great, but if you don’t, we’ll get them next year. Sounds good?” you bargained, knowing that he didn’t need any more pressure added on his shoulders than he already had.

He sighed but nodded, pausing his actions to give you a kiss.

“Let’s do it then”

And, true to his word, he came back to you, in one piece, starting from pole in the Monaco GP.

♡♡♡♡♡

There was something special in the air as you entered the paddock with Pascale and Arthur, making your way towards the Ferrari hospitality to watch the race. The entire city of Monte Carlo was absolutely buzzing with excitement, the paddock feeling more alive than ever as their home hero prepared to take on the beautiful circuit that was Monaco.

You didn’t see Charles before he got into the car, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of distraction before he started the race, but you couldn’t help sprinting down to the garage during the Red Flag, knowing you had plenty of time before the race would start up again.

Finding him wasn’t hard at all. He was speaking with his mechanics, drinking some water out of his bottle.

You approached him hurriedly, at which he excused himself from the conversation once he saw you approaching him.

“Mon amour, is everything okay? You’re supposed to be with maman, Arthur and Joris up in the hospitality” he said, worry etched on his face.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just came down here to wish you good luck, you know, once FIA decides to restart the race” you joked, hoping to make his spirits lift up a little.

He chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the stress sitting behind the facade, the worry and pressure tensing up his muscles and demeanor.

Noticing you studying his face and realizing you knew how stressed he was, he smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You know we’re proud of you no matter what, right?” you whispered, thankful for the loud sounds of mechanics working left and right that helped drown out your conversation to other people around you.

He sighed, but nodded. “I know, but I just can’t shake the stress. I’ve been quick all weekend and everyone knows that. What if something happens and my race goes to shit like every time? I don’t think I’ll be ready to cope with another disappointment from my home track” he confessed, which made your heart squeeze.

His entire life, the only thing that he wanted was to win in Monaco, but the track has always failed him. And for once, he felt like he could finally break the curse that has been following him around for years, yet he still worried that something would completely ruin his race.

“Baby, nobody will think less of you if you don’t win today. Racing is so unpredictable, you put your life in danger every time you get in the car and people know that. We’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome today” you said, holding his face in your hands to make sure he understood you.

He bit the inside of his cheek but nodded, knowing you were right. 

“I love you” he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

“I love you too. Be safe out there and show everyone what you’re made of” you said once you pulled away, smiling and pecking his lips once again before leaving him to it.

You made your way back to the hospitality where Charles’ family was waiting for you.

“How is he?” Pascale asked you as you sat down next to her.

“He’s stressed, but he’s doing okay. He really wants to win today” you explained, running a hand through your hair.

Pascale nodded, knowing how important this day was for her son.

“He’ll win, I can feel it” Pascale said, taking your hand in hers.

♡♡♡♡♡

Some people would say that you bewitched your fiancé, some would say that a divine force had finally taken pity upon him, but only one thing was for certain.

Charles Leclerc had finally won his home race, the Monaco Grand Prix.

From the moment he had crossed the finish line and taken the checkered flag, everything that happened was a blur. Between hugging his family, texting your friends, crying because of how proud you were of him, things were a big blur. 

Hearing him screaming on the radio had been what had made you break down. He had spent so many hours training, figuring out strategies, doing everything in his power to make sure that things would go well for him around his home streets and his hard work had finally paid off.

You couldn’t hold in the excitement that you felt, the pride you held for the man you loved more than life itself. Which frankly explains why you hurried out of the Ferrari hospitality and ran to the grid where the Ferrari mechanics were waiting for Charles.

The moment you saw him get out of the car and throw himself at his team, the cascade of tears began once again, blurring your vision which now only consisted of the red teamwear all around you.

“Y/N!” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Charles’ voice, who had noticed you crying as soon as he hugged his team.

The Ferrari mechanics quickly made way for you, letting you jump into Charles’ arms and wrapping your legs around his waist as he hugged you tightly to his body.

“I did it, Y/N. I finally did it” he cried into your shoulder, which made you let out more tears and squeeze him even tighter than you already were.

“I told you, I knew you were going to do it. My Monaco winner” you pulled away slightly to kiss him, taking his face in your hands.

The entire team cheered around you, paparazzi taking pictures upon pictures of the moment shared between you.

“I love you so fucking much” you whispered against his lips, making him grin widely.

“I love you too”

And with that, the Monaco curse has finally been broken, once and for all.

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[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you. 

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—” 

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.” 

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out! 

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.” 

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap. 

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Two - Angel

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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READ PLS: hello my lovelies!! So, if you're here from the first part, pls either reread or take note that I have removed all connection to the bianchi family -- the brother is called Louis and the last name is Dupont

Max returned to that spot time and time again. He drove past the café almost every day for his first week in Monaco. Sometimes his angel was there, sometimes she wasn't.

This time, though, when Max drove past, she was there. Sitting in the café with a fruity smoothie in front of her, wearing another sun dress. This time it was green, the skirt slightly shorter and little white flowers decorating it.

Max parked up around the corner. He straightened his tie and climbed out of his car. Always dressed in a suit just in case anybody needed him. Just in case his father called him back to work.

He walked past her, paying no mind as he stepped through the café doors. But then he stepped back, something between a smirk and a smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Hi," he said, his hand on the back of the chair opposite her own. "Can I ask what you ordered? I'm hoping to get something sweet."

She knew not to talk to strangers. Even before the death of her brother, she had been taught how much danger she was in at all times. Normally Charles would be here to take care of it, to glare a the stranger until they moved away.

But Charles wasn't here. This is what she got for sneaking out.

Thank God this guy was cute. That shouldn't have been a reason to answer him, but she did. She held up her plastic cup and shook it slightly, answering him. "Strawberry banana," she said and put the straw to her lips. Max watched as the pink liquid moved up the straw. "It's incredibly sweet."

Max couldn't stop his smile from widening. He leaned against the chair in front of him now, not just resting his hands on it. "Is it as sweet as you?"

Oh, he was flirting with her.

She couldn't hide her embarrassment. Every time a mad had tried to flirt with her before, Charles had shut them down and scared them off.

But this man, well Charles wasn't there to scare him off. For the first time in her life a man was openly flirting with her. He was flirting with her and it was making het all bashful. And maybe a little bit shy.

He held his large hand out towards her. She couldn't help but take notice of the watch on his wrist. It was no doubt expensive, but that wasn't a surprise, considering where they were. "I'm Max," he said, keeping his hand stretched out.

She took it, but her grip was loose as she told him her name. "But everybody calls me Bunny."

"Bunny," he responded, listening to the way it rolled off of his tongue. He liked it, liked how it sounded. But, if everybody called her Bunny, Max needed something else. He looked at her, really looked at her. Looked at the way her hair fell around her shoulders, the way her fingers, nails painted to match her dress, wrapped around her plastic cups. Looked at the way her pink lips wrapped around her straw. "Angel. I think it's more fitting."

Before Max could say anything further, his phone beeped. Saving her, he couldn't help but think. "Well, Angel, I have to go," he said, standing up straight. "Can I see you again?" 

She smiled as she nodded. "You know where to find me," she said and sipped the rest of her drink.

Max looked at her once more and walked away, down the street and back to his car. For the last week Max had been waiting for his father to call him back to work and, now that he had, he didn't want to leave. 

Max disappeared and she was alone. She sipped her smoothie and returned to her small sketchbook, pencil moving against the page. 

Suddenly, somebody slipped into the seat opposite her. She looked up, hoping it was Max, returning to flirt with her some more. But she was met with disappointment.

"Oh, Arthur," she said when she looked at the youngest Leclerc brother. "Am I in trouble?"

Arthur let out a small laugh and furrowed her brows at her. "You sneak out too often to get into trouble, Bun," he replied as he looked around. 

"Not because I spoke to that guy?" She asked innocently. 

But Arthur's face dropped. He may have been younger than her, but he was still tasked with keeping her safe. "Do you remember what this guy looked like, Bunny?" He asked as he grabbed her sketchbook and pulled her from her chair. 

She nodded her head as Arthur led her down the street. "He was cute," she said and let out a little laugh. 

But Arthur wasn't laughing as he looked around the streets. "You know that's not what I meant," he replied as he led her into her apartment building. "You know you're not meant to talk to strangers."

He dragged her up the stairs and pulled her into her apartment. Arthur immediately sat her down and checked every crevice of the apartment. He grabbed the knife from the kitchen and checked inside of the bedroom. 

Nothing, her apartment was clear. 

"Fucking hell, Bunny," Arthur spat. "You had me terrified."

She pouted as she fiddled with her fingers. "He was flirting with me, 'thur. I think he really thought I was cute," she mumbled and laid herself down on the sofa, pulling her legs into her chest. 

Arthur released a breath from his nose as he looked down at her. "Of course he did, Bunny," he whispered and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's just... Charles and I don't know this person. We don't know if they can be trusted.”

She didn't reply.

Eventually Charles came to her apartment. When he let himself in, Arthur retreated to the kitchen. To 'make dinner', he had said. (But, something you should know about the Leclerc brothers is that neither of them could cook very well. Arthur stopped by his mothers every night for dinner and Charles wouldn't eat unless Bunny cooked for him).

The first thing Charles did was stride over to her. He sat on the end of the couch and looked down at her. "I'm not mad you snuck out," he said. Which, although it sounded like it, it wasn't a good sign. If it wasn't because of the sneaking out, he was mad about something else.

She didn't look at him, instead staring at her coffee table. There was a light layer on dust on it, and she made a mental note to clean it later. After this stupid conversation.

"But, Bunny, I need you to tell me who this guy is. Did he give you a name? Any indication of who she was?"

She'd made the mistake of telling Arthur something, she wasn't going to do it again. She tried her best to shrug her shoulders from the position she was sitting in, but it didn't much work. "He just asked what flavour my smoothie was," she said and sat up slightly.

She couldn't tell if Charles believed her or not. He simply let out a sigh and patted her leg. "Wanna get take out?" He asked softly. "We can kick Arthur out, share Chinese food and watch a movie. How does that sound, Bun?"

Her arms were folded over her chest as she sat up and looked at him. "Are you paying for it?" She asked through a pout.

"Yeah, Bun, I'll pay for it," he said and went to the kitchen to grab the menus. At the same time he kicked Arthur out of the apartment (grateful that he hadn't started cooking any sort of monstrosity yet).

Charles knew exactly what he was going to be ordering, but he still handed her the menu. She asked for the same thing every time, and this time was no different. He was on the phone, ordering food within minutes.

He couldn't concentrate on much through the movie. Charles watched her, but he couldn't help but think of some faceless stranger, snatching her in the middle of the night.

He'd let her get away with sneaking out, even if he hadn't meant to. But not again. There was no way Charles was going to let her out of his sight now.

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[mariclerc]

Hi! Are you taking requests? I would love to read something with Charles where the reader is quite shy and maybe not very experienced relationship wise, but Charles is very patient and understanding and helping them get used to the new situation?

Thank you for this request, it seems like something very precious and cute to me🥺🤍. I hope you like it! 🫶🏻

A slow pace | cl16

Summary: Where you don't usually have much experience in the romantic aspect, but you have a boyfriend who is willing to go slow if you need to.

Warning: none, just Charles being softie and such a simp for you.

Part 2.

Something you have always wanted and desired since you were a teenager probably was to be in a relationship. You have vivid memories of all of your friends talking to you about how nice it felt to have a boyfriend and do fun and cute things together. But, despite this, here you are, at your boyfriend's house ready to spend a very pleasant time with him.

“Almost done! How does pasta sounds princess?” says Charles from the kitchen.

You turn in your seat on the couch and give him a shy little smile. “Pasta sounds great... Thank you!”

Charles turns and wipes his hands with a dishcloth, He walks towards you and takes a seat next to you, gently taking your hand.

“Hey, are you okay? You're a little quiet tonight, is something wrong?” He asks with calm in his voice, you bite your lip as you look down at your hands.

“It's just... Everything is so new to me, I mean... us. I've never dated anyone before you and... It's all a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

You've been dating Charles for a couple of months and, honestly, he is the most attentive and loving boy you have ever met. At first you thought he was going to reject you for being too shy or something like that, but he's the complete opposite of any guy out there. And even though you've been dating for a while and so on, you can't help but feel a little shy around him.

Charles squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Oh baby, it's okay to feel that way! Everything takes time, I just want you to know that I am here with you, throughout this journey. No pressure, no judgement, just us.”

You look up at him, you eyes sparkling. “You're the best Charlie! I know I'm not exactly the most... experienced girlfriend, but you make it so easy for me.”

He smiles at you. “It's nothing darling, for you I do anything, everything possible to see that pretty little smile on your face.” He says as he winks at you and you smile.

After a while he serves the pasta and they have their dinner in a fairly calm atmosphere between both of you, a few knowing glances, some shy giggles from both of you and the occasional brush of hands and honestly you couldn't ask for more in a boyfriend.

“So, uhm... What do you want to do after we clean this up?” you ask with some shyness.

“Honestly? I just want to spend time with you baby.”

Your heart flutters at his words and you blush. “Me too! But, I don't want to be boring...”

He looks at you and smiles. “You could never be boring y/n. You're the most interesting person I know.”

You blush again, a small smile playing on your lips. “You think so?”

“Absolutely babe. You're kind, funny, and you have this amazing way of seeing the world! Also, you make me laugh even when I'm feeling down.” He leans closer, his eyes sparkling. “So, what do you say? Movie marathon and warm cuddles?”

“Sounds perfect for me!” you say smiling.

You both finish cleaning the dishes and go to snuggle on the couch, after a while of watching the movie you turn to look at him and you can't stop thinking about how lucky you are to have someone as patient and cute as him by your side. He pulls you into a hug, and you snuggle closer, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm... Charlie?” you whispered at him, he humms in response. “Thank you for being so patient with me... I know I can be very... shy sometimes.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead tenderly. “Hey, there's nothing wrong with being shy, it just makes you more special! And I'm so happy to wait for you to open up, at your own pace.”

You look up and smile, your eyes filled with gratitude. “You're the best!”

“We can take things as slowly as you need princess... If you think we're going too fast, just tell me okay? I have no problem slowing down the pace for you... Just for you my sweet angel.”

You nod and he smiles and kisses you softly, with an unspoken promise hanging in the air, you know, with Charles by your side, you'll be alright. He'll guide you, support you and loving you unconditionally until he sees you blossom into the woman you were always meant to be. You know, deep down, that this is something special, something that not everyone is lucky to get but that you, fortunately are.

[charles-leclerizz]

🥂 the f1 boys... after an arguement

MEET THE CAST. CL 16 ◦ CS 55 ◦ LN 4 ◦ MV 1

VIDEO DESC. hey guys ! welcome to the start of what i hope to be a long series. i would love for you guys to request something you would like to see, so don't be shy to leave something in my inbox. also please let me know if the graphic above is good, since i would like to continue it for the series

SHOUT OUTS. [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CHARLES LECLERC 16

" you're being ridiculous ! " Charles shouts, slamming his hands down on the marble and startling you with the loud echo of his palms against the counter.

" me ? " you mumur under your breath, leaning towards him on the opposite side of the kitchen island, " i'm the ridiculous one ? you're the one who was getting drooled on by your ex-girlfriend . " you snarled and stomped your feet.

" je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas- je ne peux pas avoir à nouveau cette fucking conversation avec toi . mon Dieu . " [ i can't, i can't- i can't have this fucking conversation with you again. my God] He ran his hand through his hair and watched as you gaped at him, slowly translating the words in your mind .

"of course," throwing your hands up in the air, you move away from the kitchen and rush down towards the foyer, "it's my fault, it cannot possibly be you, who made a goddamn mistake ?"

you collected your purse and keys, the metallic fob jingled obnoxiously against the bowl, "no it can't becau- what are you doing ? " Charles stopped mid sentence, eyes widening .

Squinting your eyes at him you shook the metal in your hand, "out."

"where is out ? je te prie de te le dire ? " [ pray tell thee ]

"anywhere but here, i need time charles." you mumured, itching to reach out and take his hand as you breathed heavily yet the anger that was bubbling up to a boil had settled into a seething magma, already solidifying into scathing stone.

"time ? " he spluttered, latching onto your bag that had just been slung onto your shoulder, "for what ?"

"for the clocks to reset." you sassed, dropping the clutch into his hand, "god. i'll be back."

the sun had begun to set by the time you had pressed in your combination into the keypad and attempted to silently pad into the apartment.

lest to say, that didn't work, because as soon as the door clicked open and the jingle of the lock had ceased, the sound of steps bounding up to you was following shortly after.

"tu es de retour, Dieu merci, tu es de retour." [ you're back, thank god you're back ] Charles hugged you tightly, hands winding around your waist to hold you close, the comfort of your heartbeat in time with his made him slump over you with relief.

you patted his back slowly, smiling inwardly, "yeah, i'm back. i told you i would be." pressing kisses to his neck but stopped short when small droplets began to wet your top.

"charlie," you sighed, pulling away to hold his red face in your hands. he sniffled and kept his gaze down on where his hands gripped your hips. his fingers fiddled with the hem of your clothing as his bottom lip wobbled and fresh tears bubbled at his lashline.

"charles ." you tried again, rubbing your thumbs against his temple, "why are you crying ? " he sniffed again and shook his head slowly, already curling around you again, going against the gentle force you applied on his face.

"pensé que" [ thought that ] he started, taking a stuttering breath, "thought that you wouldn't come back."

Your heart shattered, "why ?" with a burning throat, you blinked quickly and listened patiently.

"i was so mad, you were mad." charles bit his lip, despite the skin already being rosy and swollen, most likely from his growing worry throughout the day, "i wouldn't have blamed you, if you didn't come back. "

"honey ? " you call out, smiling gently when he finally met your eyes despite the pang that coursed through your body when you noticed the harsh red lines that sat stark in his eyes, "i would never leave you. "

"you wouldn't ?"

"no-" you choked back a sob, "no, why would you think that." scolding him, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, trapping him in your embrace, "stupid, stupid french man." you grit out, salty streams dripping down your face.

"you're right. " he laughed wetly, rubbing a large palm down your back when you begin to sob laboriously.

"i love you," you detach from him quickly, pecking his lips, his eyes, each and every individual freckle littered on his nose and cheeks, "i love you so much- even when that bitch is slobbering over your arm."

"chérie" he starts, but presses his lips together when you pause in between your smooches to arch an eyebrow at him, "i love you too."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ CARLOS SAINZ 55

the sun was beating down on the yacht as the crsytaline blue waves lapped at the pristine white of the boat.

you lay on the sun bed, sunglasses propped up on your head as your eyes twitched, watching as carlos and some random chick were talking on the deck.

it was the days leading up to the monaco grand prix, and since it was easiest to procure a yacht here, the boys thought to host a party, where drinks, dancing and daquiri were a must.

so as the music blasted and almost 20 other people were chatting and moving their bodiees to the music, you were busy seething as the girl ran a hand up carlos' salty, sea water covered bicep.

though you stayed away, book disgarded on your exposed stomach whilst your hands twitched with undisclosed rage at your side.

it was when you noticed that even though your boyfriend glanced down at her fingers, he made no move to push it away, that you decided to get up from your place and saunter towards them.

"-wow you're so strong, it must be so hard to drive an f1 car."

"uhm-"

" hi." you gritted out, lacing your arm with carlos', who stood frozen in his spot, "if you would so kindly, stop humping my boyfriend- i would really appreciate it."

the girl stared at you, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

" you can go do that-" you pointed to the throng of the party, where lando was dj-ing, "over there."

she scoffed and walked away, but not before she winked at the driver on your arm and shot you a dirty glare.

as soon as you were sure that she had left, you slowly turned to carlos, who was already gawking at you, "you have 5 minutes to explain, why and how she felt that she could be doing that to you."

he spluttered, eyes igniting with annoyance, "that was the daughter of one of our biggest sponsors- why would you do that ? mujer loca" [crazy woman]

"i'm the crazy one ?" you asked incredulously, "so i'm meant to watch as you let girls just, what? sex you up?"

"oh come on, you know she wasn't." he rolled his eyes, "and what could i do? if i told her no, she could get me fired."

you crossed your arms at him, "so what you're saying, that no matter what, your job is more important than me and my feelings ?"

" Ay, ¿por qué siempre dices eso? " [ay, why do you always say that ? ] carlos shook his head and held your shoulders, "you need to understand that your feelings are important to me, but so is my career."

you shake your head, "but it's all the time carlos, all the damn time." he tilts his head, large brown eyes conveying his confusion, "it's always, 'we can't go here, its bad for my reputation" or "i'll be back late, the office needs me" . what about when i need you ?"

" i can't go everywhere, it's unsafe, you know that. and i'm not always out late. " he reasons, shrugging.

" no- firstly, it was a cafe, you aren't in danger at a fucking cat cafe. and secondly, name one time this entire month that we ate dinner together."

you wait, wedged foot tapping against the laminated wood beneath your sole. carlos stills for a moment, wracking brain before looking at you again and cringing.

"- see ! "

"- i'm sorry cariño !"

you shake your head pushing away his hands, "not this time- i won't forgive you. i deserve better. "

carlos watches, gobsmacked and panicked when you walk away, already collecting your things as the yacht docks.

the bell to the cafe that you sat in jingles quietly, though you ignore it and continue to pet the sweet, grey cat that purrs in your lap whilst sipping a warm tea.

a shadow forms infront of you, and you look up, eyes widening, "carlos- what are you doing ?"

he pants, bracing his hands on his knees as he doubles over- you instictively reach out and take his hand.

"i-" he keens and pants, "i looked everywhere for you, the apartment, all the shops that you normally go to, landos place, max's place, charles' place. then i remembered that you sent me the link for the directions here." carlos leans down to kiss your head, cradling your face in his palms, "gracias a Dios te encontré". [ thank god i found you. ]

you motion to the seat infront of you, letting the cat that now watched interestedly onto the floor so you could tuck your legs beneath the table, "what do you want ?"

carlos sighs, hanging his head before taking your hand and intertwining your fingers, he rests his forehead on your conjoined hands, "i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. i told fred that- that i don't want to be talking to sponsors, y'know-" he looks up at you, kissing your hand gently, "like that, especially on my down time. and that i won't be staying in the office after 5pm."

you blink at him slowly, tightening your fingers, "oh.. good."

he finds your embarrassed gaze, and locks your eyes together, his caramel pools glistening beneath the sunlight that streamed in through the large windows. your stare softens, "i forgive you carlos." reaching forward, you brush away the hair that had fallen onto his forehead.

"you do ? i had so much grovelling left to do." he mumurs, glancing nervously to his side.

"did you seriously buy me something, already ? it's been-" you check your watch, "-3 hours ?"

"there was a plan in place Niña bonita. " [ pretty girl ] he reaches to his left and places the small black bag infront of you, "open it."

smirking, you begin to reach into the ominous container and retrieve a medium sized velvet box- as you pop it open, you gasp, "oh wow, it's beautiful."

nestled within, was a gold necklace, small diamonds hanging from the last few delicate chain links and in the middle, sat a chili pendant, petite rubies be-dazzling the body of the charm.

"i bought it a few days ago, i was waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you, but this seemed more appropriate." carlos took the jewellery in his hands and gestured for you to come closer.

craning your neck forward, you laugh quietly to yourself as you watch him stuggle with the clasp before grinning victoriously and retracts his hands away from your nape.

you take his face in your hands, "i love you." you declare as you kiss his pouted lips. he holds your wrists that rest against his jaw, running his thumb back and forth against your pulsee before whispering against your mouth,

"i love you more."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ LANDO NORRIS 4

you stomped up to the door before banging on the wood angrily, "lando norris" you huff, "get out of this room right now."

"what ?" Lando wretched the door open, staring down at you, visibly annoyed.

"it has been 3 hours, since you have even stepped out of this room. now it is the winter break, you cannot possible think i will allow you to train on the sim for this long."

He opened his mouth to retaliate when gratingly familiar voices began to laugh and, "ohh" in the background.

"are you streaming ?" crossing your arms over, you're half tempted to push past his fuming chest and unplug the entire setup.

" so what ? you said i'm on break, i can stream if i want to." his voice began to raise dangerously.

"not when i told you that i cooked dinner," you poked his chest, making him blink, "that it's your favourite-" you poked again, "and especially not when i made that fucking tiramisu which you kept on going on and on about from japan." you push him, hard, before stalking out to the kitchen.

"wait ! " he called out, the sound of him shuffling and the door clicking closed made you grind your teeth when he didn't appear down the hallway.

Already packing up the food and placing it into the fridge carefully, you remained stoic to the fact that he had finally appeared behind you, wringing his hands as he watched you.

"babe ? "

"babe ? "

"bab-" "what."

you turn around on your heel, growling and if he were to open his mouth to say anything, steam would most likely begin to shoot out of your ears.

Lando stared at you, still playing with his fingers, "i wanted to- uhm," he gulped when you crossed over your arms, "say that i'm sorry." he whimpered.

"you're sorry ?"

"yeah."

"so," you guffaw, "i slave over the stove for hours, cooking, whipping, mixing and you think that i'm here to serve you when all you say is a 'sorry' "

"...no ?" he cringed, squeaking when you slithered past him towards the dining table and drag out a chair before taking a seat, "i don't see the big deal."

"you don't see the big deal ? " you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes.

"no."

"no ? " you parrot, holding your face in fear that if your hands were to be free, you would strangle him.

"i really don't ."

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to find your inner peace. for both of your sakes.

"lando, it has been 2 weeks of you being back home. 14 days. 336 hours and god knows how many minutes. and throughout that time, you have not touched me," you put up a finger, "you refuse to kiss me nearly as much as you did when you were out of the continent," another finger, "and someone would think you need glasses because you never seem to be looking at me, ever."

Lando's mouth popped open, eyes darting around your face in search of a viable answer, "I-"

"and lord," you scoff, "when i go to make a romantic dinner, in hopes that you could sustain eye-contact for more than a millisecond. you go and forget that as well." covering your mouth, you dip your head down, avoiding his crumpled expression to sob into your hands.

"Are you crying ? "

"i'm not," you retort, sniffing obnoxiously.

"then what are you doing ?"

" they're called allergies. it's the pollen."

"babe," you feel his once distant presensce come and crouch down to your level, warm palms braced on your knees, "its winter."

"i know," you weep, pressing your forehead into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry my love," he pleads, bumping the crown of his head gently with yours, "im so so sorry, i didn't mean to."

you shake your head pitifully, "yes you did. you think i'm ugly" you blubber.

"no- what ? NO ?" he takes your face in his hands, smooshing your cheeks together, "you're beautiful and the only thing that's ugly is my behaviour, i should've paid more attention to you, and i didn't." Lando kissed you tenderly, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet face, "but don't you dare say that you're anything short of stunning."

"shmokay," you lisp, tongue poking through your puckered lips, "shu hungry ?"

you smile contently when he wipes your cheeks and pecks your closed eyelids, "yeah... but not for food."

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯ MAX VERSTAPPEN 1

" come on schat, i said i was sorry." Max tries for what seeemed to be the fiftieth time.

" will sorry bring back the 2 hours i spent outside, looking like an idiot ?" you plant your hands on your hips, staring him down.

Max slaps his head a few times before slowly approaching you, padding his way past the bed, "I have a job, Liefde" he presses his hands together and aims his fingers at you whilst gritting his teeth.

"oh, and i don't ? " you smack his aggitating hands away from your nose, "someone call wallstreet, i've been trading illegally. since apparently, my liscence and MB- fucking - A was for nothing . "

"you being on the phone and playing with money, is different from me driving a deathbox every week. hoe kun je de twee zelfs vergelijken ?" [ how can you even compare the two? ] he eununciates.

You gasp, half tempted to smash your stilleto heel into his poised foot, but decide against it when he follows your gaze and peices together your attack, already shuffling his foot away.

"max- i will not stand here and take this from you. i trade stocks you race jumbo bumper cars."

your voice reaches a new decible as you attempt to get through his thick skull.

"now either you can apologise, or else i'm walking out of the door. because i am done explaining to you how to be a good boyfriend " you point outside the bedroom which you both were currently shouting in.

Max crossed his arms, challenging your threat.

"really ?" you ask, appalled but nonetheless collect your purse from the floor and begin to leave the threshold.

Max hums, catching your eye when you turn around, already pivoting at the corner of the doorway. He shrugs, moving to the bed to sit down and yawn nonchalantly.

You blink a few times before leaning back into the room to snatch up the keys to his pista from the dresser, "fuck you."

and with that, you left the apartment. and max, whose words were beginning to dawn on him.

your feet were beginning to ache with how much you were walking and it was almost 200% confirmed, that blood was begining to pool into the expensive interior.

the sun was starting to set from it's afternoon high point and you watched it whilst continuing on your journey down the sidewalk, already having charged an alarming amount of shopping on max's card, you were nursing a grande cup of the most expensive coffee monaco would offer.

The pista sat 10km away from you, full to the brim with your shopping, so when it began to approach you parrallel on the road, your eyebrows shot up and you were prepared to throw the steaming drink into the drivers window as it rolled down.

"schat- why is there so much shopping in here ? "max asked, guidinng the car dangerously close to the pavement.

"you should know since i charged it to your account. " you clutch your to-go cup to your chest.

Max's eyes widened as he pulled his foot off the accelarator to twist his body back and take in the sheer amount of bags that were pilled into the backseat.

"is there a problem ? " you blink at him innocently, still walking towards what appeared to be the public beach.

he turned back to you, irises huge as saucers before he cleared his throat and shook his head, "nope" his voice cracked, "not at all."

"good" you harumphed, "on my measly sallary, i couldn't afford to buy all of it. thankfully i had your card with me."

Max grimaced at your words, "please just get in, people will think i'm hustling you."

"i hope they do. imagine max verstappen 3X world champion pays for sex ? on the tabloids."

He scoffed and stopped the car, no longer entertaining your trek since your determined trot had morphed into an embarrasing limp and your eyes were starting to water.

"please get into the car, you're in pain."

"no-" you sniffed, wiping your eyes, "no i'm not, my only pain is that my boyfriend doesn't think my job is serious enough or something." you wave a hand over your face, lip wobbling.

You're too busy trying not to sob into your hands to notice that max had parked the car and was currently slamming the door shut to come comfort you, "no, no i do- i think it's serious."

his arms wrap around you as he guides your back again the car, hiding your face into his chest to kiss the crown of your head, "i'm sorry for getting mad and saying those stupid things. it was uncalled for."

you look up at him, chin resting on his shirt, "..and ?"

"and..." he huffs, "i'm sorry for not meeting you at the resturant for lunch and not telling you that i wouldn't be able to make it since my meeting ran over."

you smile at him, giggling under your breath when his hand comes up to wipe your tears away, "my job is super serious, you were mean." you pout.

"yes- i was mean."

biting your lip guility, you take a deep inhale, "and i shouldn't have called your job 'jumbo bumper cars' "

max laughs and kisses your lips softly, "yeah- i think i deserved it."

you grin against his mouth, winding your hands around his neck as he presses you against his chest, hugging you tighter, "yeah you did. but im sorry nonetheless"

[pucksandpower]

Head Over Heels

Charles Leclerc x Vasseur!Reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: in which Charles and Carlos are head over heels for you and you’re still painfully oblivious despite their best efforts

Warnings: this is a poly fic, overwhelming amounts of fluff

“Hey, Y/N! You’ve got a delivery!”

You look up, confused, as one of the mechanics hands over a beautifully wrapped bouquet. The vibrant pink roses and lilies contrast strikingly against the red of the Ferrari motorhome.

“For me? Who’s it from?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

The attached card is simple: For someone who lights up the track without even racing.

“Must be from a sponsor or someone thanking Dad,” you muse aloud, inhaling the fragrant bouquet.

Your father, Fred Vasseur, chuckles from a few steps away, “A sponsor, you think?”

You nod, genuinely convinced, “Who else?”

Charles, emerging from his cool-down session after practice, spots you with the flowers. His heart does a little jolt, hoping you’d recognize his gesture. “Those are beautiful,” he comments, trying to sound casual.

“They are, aren’t they?” You beam, holding them out to let him get a better look. “I think they’re from a sponsor or something. It’s a nice touch.”

A small, knowing smile tugs at Charles’ lips but he just nods. “Very thoughtful of them.”

Your father watches the exchange with an amused smirk, clearly catching on to Charles’ hidden intentions. He leans in to whisper to the Monegasque driver, “You sure you want to keep it anonymous, Leclerc?”

Charles shrugs but there’s a hint of red on his cheeks, “I thought it’d be more … romantic? But I didn’t think she would be this oblivious.”

Your father chuckles, patting Charles on the back, “Give it time, son.”

The day continues and you go about your tasks, occasionally stopping to admire the flowers, still clueless about their real origin. Everyone around seems to be sharing knowing glances and subtle nudges.

Carlos, having heard about Charles’ gesture, approaches you. “Heard you got a surprise today,” he comments playfully.

You nod, beaming, “Yeah, a pleasant one. It’s always nice to be appreciated, even if it’s indirectly.”

Charles, overhearing, sighs from a distance. “I need to up my game,” he murmurs to himself.

***

“Morning, Y/N! I brought you something.”

You glance up from your paperwork to find Carlos holding out a steaming cup of coffee and a beautifully wrapped pastry. You can’t help but smile, already salivating.

“Thanks, Carlos. This is such a treat! How do you always know where to find the best coffee and pastries?”

Carlos shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, “Oh, you know. Just lucky, I guess.”

Your father watches the exchange from a distance, laughing softly. “Carlos sure seems to have a knack for pleasing your taste buds,” he teases as he approaches.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you reply, “He’s just being friendly, Dad. Everyone loves a good pastry, right?”

Your father just raises an eyebrow, sipping his own coffee, “If you say so.”

Carlos, seeing an opportunity, chimes in, “Actually, I’ve been exploring the local bakeries in each city. You know, trying to find the best treats.” He pauses for a second, cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly, “Glad you like them.”

It’s a small confession but enough to get a teasing cheer from some of the mechanics nearby. You just laugh, assuming it’s part of the team's usual banter. “You’re too dedicated, Carlos! Thanks for always thinking of me.”

Carlos chuckles, his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper, “Anything for a … friend.”

Later, as you’re engrossed in your work, Charles passes by, subtly observing the pastry and coffee by your side. He exchanges a brief, understanding look with Carlos.

“You know,” Charles says casually, taking a seat opposite you, “Carlos wakes up an hour early just to find these for you.”

You blink, surprised, “Really?”

Charles nods, smirking, “Ask anyone here. They’ve seen him race off, rain or shine.”

Your heart swells with appreciation. “I had no idea,” you whisper, truly touched.

Carlos, overhearing, intervenes with a chuckle, “Leclerc, stop making it sound so dramatic! I just … like to start my day with a good treat, that’s all."

You smile warmly, taking a sip of your coffee, “You’re such a good friend, Carlos. I’m lucky to have you looking out for me like this.”

Carlos nods, swallowing down a hint of disappointment, “Always, Y/N. Just looking out for a friend, right?”

Your father passing by, catches the tail end of the conversation. He winks at Carlos, teasing, “Oh, absolutely. Just a friend.”

Carlos shoots him a mock glare but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Exactly. Just doing what any good friend would do.”

You laugh, completely missing the underlying tension, “Well, here’s to more coffee-filled mornings. Thanks, friend.”

Carlos raises his cup in a mock toast, “To friendship.” But there’s a certain longing in his eyes, a silent hope that someday friendship might evolve into something more.

***

“Y/N, have you ever thought of getting behind the wheel?”

You glance up from your notes, finding Charles leaning against your desk, a mischievous glint in his eye. You laugh, “Of a race car? Surely you’re joking.”

He shrugs, an inviting smirk on his face, “Who better to teach you than a Ferrari driver?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you offering?”

Charles nods. “Why not? It’ll be fun and maybe you’ll get a new appreciation for what we do.”

You consider it. “Alright, when?”

“How about after tomorrow’s practice session? The track will be free.”

Carlos, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “Planning some secret training without me?” His tone is playful but there’s an underlying hint of jealousy.

Charles grins, “Just thought I’d offer our friend here a little taste of the track life.”

You chuckle, “Don’t worry, Carlos. If I crash, I promise I’ll come to you for my second lesson.”

Carlos smirks, “I’ll hold you to that.”

The following day, after the practice session, you find yourself clad in a racing suit, helmet in hand, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. Charles approaches, looking much more confident than you feel.

“Ready?” He asks, voice full of anticipation.

You nod, gulping down your anxiety. “As I’ll ever be.”

The next hour is a blur of acceleration, sharp turns, and the roar of the engine. Charles proves to be a patient and encouraging teacher, guiding you through the intricacies of handling a race car. The adrenaline, the rush, and the sheer power of the machine are intoxicating.

At one point, as you glide around a particularly challenging curve, Charles whoops in delight from the passenger seat, “That’s it, Y/N! You’re a natural!”

Your laughter rings out, pure and genuine, “Maybe I’ve found my new calling.”

As the session comes to an end and the two of you climb out of the car, Carlos approaches, clapping. “Not bad for a rookie,” he teases.

You playfully shove him, “Thanks to my excellent instructor here.”

Charles laughs, ruffling your hair, “You were great, seriously.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “I guess I’ll be out of a job soon.”

You roll your eyes, “One lesson and suddenly I’m a pro? You flatter me. But seriously, this was amazing. Truly. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles grins, “Anytime. And remember, there’s always more to learn.”

Carlos smirks, “And more instructors available, just in case.”

You laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s celebrate me not crashing the car!”

As you all head off, you link arms with Charles, “You know, for a moment there, I felt the thrill you must feel during races. Thanks for being such a good friend and showing me that world.”

Charles smiles softly, a pang of both happiness and a touch of disappointment at the word you used. “Of course. Anything for a friend.”

Carlos, observing from a distance, shares a knowing look with Charles. The message is clear: the race is far from over.

***

“Hey, Y/N. Can’t sleep?”

You’re startled to find Carlos waiting by the hotel lobby, a charming smile playing on his lips. The clock on the wall reads just past midnight.

You rub your eyes, yawning, “No, not really. Jet lag, I guess.”

Carlos gestures toward the entrance, “How about a midnight stroll? I know this beautiful spot nearby.”

You hesitate for a moment but then nod, intrigued. “Sure, why not? Lead the way.”

The two of you step out into the cool night to find the quiet city bathed in soft light. The silence is comfortable as you walk side by side.

As you amble along, you can’t help but wonder, “Why are you up so late?”

He glances at you, “Couldn’t sleep either. And I thought maybe you’d enjoy some company.”

You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He points to a quiet park with a pond, its surface shimmering with the reflection of the moon. “Here we are. This place always helps me clear my head whenever we’re in town for a race.”

You settle on a bench and Carlos quickly sits beside you, shoulders brushing lightly.

The night unfolds with shared stories and laughter. Carlos opens up about his journey in racing, the challenges he’s faced, and the moments of triumph. You listen intently, feeling a newfound connection.

As the hours slip away, Carlos admits with a soft chuckle, “You know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? Why me?”

Carlos smiles, the moonlight illuminating his face. “Because you’re special. You’re different from anyone I’ve met on or off the circuit.”

A warm feeling washes over you. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He turns toward you, his gaze intense, “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say. Something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

But just as he’s about to speak, you yawn loudly, unable to hide your exhaustion any longer. “Sorry. I guess jet lag finally caught up with me.”

He chuckles, disappointment flickering in his eyes, “No worries. Let’s head back.”

When you reach the hotel entrance, Carlos bids you goodnight, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. “Get some rest. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

You smile sleepily, giving him a friendly hug, “Thanks for the midnight adventure. It was nice.”

He holds you for a moment longer than usual before pulling away, “Anytime. Sweet dreams.”

***

“Another one? Seriously?”

You chuckle, pulling out a small folded note from your jacket pocket, the fifth one this week.

“The world’s fastest circuits are slow compared to how fast you make my heart beat.” You read aloud, your cheeks warming at the words.

Carlos, seated nearby, smirks, “Someone’s clearly smitten with you. Any idea who?”

You shrug, “I figured they’re just motivational notes from the team. You know, to keep spirits up.”

Charles joins in, trying to keep his face neutral, “They’re quite poetic for just team motivation, don’t you think?”

You ponder his words, tilting your head. “I guess? But who would be sending them?”

Carlos snorts, “Oh, come on! It’s so obvious.”

You shoot him a confused look, “It is?”

Carlos and Charles exchange a glance, silently communicating. Charles, deciding to have a bit of fun, teases, “Well, they’re definitely from someone who admires you. And since they’re always hidden in places only the team has access to, it’s likely from someone here.”

Carlos nods in agreement, “Sounds about right.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You guys are just trying to rile me up. It’s probably just one of the pit crew playing a prank.”

Charles, a touch defensive, says, “You might be surprised. Maybe you have a secret admirer closer than you think.”

Your father, passing by, overhears the conversation and chuckles, “It’s about time she figures it out.”

You stare, completely baffled, “Figures what out?”

He just winks, patting Charles on the shoulder, “Keep trying.”

Your day is filled with speculation and curious glances, with everyone seeming to be in on a secret that you aren’t privy to. The notes, while touching, become a source of playful teasing.

That evening, as you prepare for bed, you find another note tucked inside your notebook: Your passion and dedication make even the toughest races feel like victories.

You can’t help but smile. “Who are you?” You whisper to yourself.

Little do you know, just a few rooms away, Charles is scribbling down another note, his heart set on winning yours, one word at a time.

***

The night is electric, the post-race party in full swing, music thumping and lights reflecting off the crystal-clear waters of the pool.

“Y/N! Join us for a dance?”

You turn, finding Carlos standing there, his hand outstretched and a playful smile on his face.

You laugh, “You’ve seen me dance. You sure you want to take that risk?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer to the dance floor, “For you? Always.”

As the music shifts to a slower, more intimate tune, you feel a bit self-conscious. But Carlos guides you gracefully, making you feel as if you’re the only two people in the world.

“See? You’re a natural,” Carlos murmurs, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You chuckle, “Or you’re just an excellent lead.”

Carlos smirks, “Could be both.”

Throughout the night you share more dances, both with Carlos and a few with Charles, who also proves to be quite the dancer. Each time you’re spun, dipped, or drawn close, there’s an electric charge, a connection that’s impossible to ignore.

“Enjoying yourself?” Charles asks during one dance, his voice soft and sincere.

You nod, “Very much so. It’s not every day I get to dance with Ferrari’s finest.”

Charles smirks, “Glad to be of service. You’re quite the dancer yourself, you know.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re just saying that.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I mean every word.”

Before you can process his statement, Carlos swoops in, teasing, “Mind if I cut in?”

Charles sighs, releasing you, “Go on but save the next one for me.”

Carlos, dancing you away, smirks, “He’s quite smitten with you.”

You laugh, “Oh, stop. We’re just friends.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”

You nod, “Absolutely.”

Carlos, holding you a bit closer, murmurs just low enough so only he can hear, “And he’s not the only one who’s smitten.” The hint of longing in his eyes remains hidden to you as the dance continues.

***

“Welcome to the local side of my home!” Charles exclaims with an open gesture, Monaco sprawling before you in all its glory.

You gaze around, taking in the sights of the city. “It’s beautiful. The tourist traps and casinos really don’t do it justice.”

He grins, obviously proud. “I thought you’d appreciate a personal tour. Ready?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Absolutely.”

Charles leads you through winding streets, each corner revealing another story, another memory. “This is where I had my first gelato,” he shares, pointing at a quaint little shop. “And over there,” he gestures to a narrow cobblestone lane, “is where I learned to ride a bike.”

You chuckle, “Really? These streets seem a bit treacherous for a kid on a bike.”

He laughs, “Let’s just say there were a few scrapes and bruises.”

As you continue, Charles points out his favorite viewpoints, cafes, and even his childhood home. It’s an intimate glimpse into his world and you feel honored.

“You know,” you say, pausing to gaze out over the harbor, “it’s one thing to know someone as a colleague and it’s another to really know them. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Charles looks at you, genuine warmth in his eyes. “I wanted you to see where I come from, the place that shaped me. Who better to share it with than you?”

You smile, touched. The two of you continue, with Charles occasionally slipping his hand into yours, guiding you along.

Towards the end of the tour, you stop at a cozy café overlooking the sea. As you sip your drinks, Charles leans in, his tone serious. “Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You look up, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Before he can speak, his phone rings. Glancing at the caller ID, Charles sighs. “It’s the team. I have to take this.”

You nod, understanding. “Go ahead.”

When Charles hangs up, he looks apologetic. “I’m so sorry. Duty calls.”

You smile, reassuringly, “It’s okay. Today was special. Thank you.”

Charles nods, hesitating for a moment, as if wanting to say more. Instead, he simply leans in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Until next time.”

***

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” you mutter, noticing the looming dark clouds as you hurry through the paddock.

Before you can take another step, raindrops start to fall, quickly morphing into a torrential downpour. You’re caught in the middle, water soaking your clothes and making your paperwork soggy.

From a distance, Carlos notices your plight. “Y/N!” He calls out, already running towards you with an umbrella in hand.

By the time he reaches you, you’re thoroughly drenched, strands of hair stuck to your face. “Took a sudden shower, did we?” He teases, even as he huddles you under the umbrella.

You chuckle, shivering slightly, “It seems so. Thanks for the rescue.”

Carlos slips off his jacket and wraps it around you. The warmth of it, combined with his scent — a mix of cologne, fresh rain, and something uniquely Carlos — is comforting.

“You’re getting soaked!” You protest, noticing his wet shirt clinging to his toned body.

Carlos just shrugs, “You needed it more than I did.”

As the two of you find shelter from the storm, the tension between you is palpable. The rain has created a sudden intimacy and you’re both acutely aware of each other.

“Better?” Carlos asks, his voice softer than usual, noticing you inhaling the scent of his jacket.

You nod, cheeks heating up. “Yeah. Smells like ... well, you.”

He smirks, “Is that a good thing?”

You glance up, meeting his gaze, “Definitely.”

There’s a pause, a shared moment where neither of you needs to speak. The rain pattering outside creates a rhythmic backdrop to the charged atmosphere.

Carlos breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “Y/N, I …”

You lean in, “Yes?”

Just then, a gust of wind blows the umbrella out of Carlos’ hand, startling the both of you. The sudden distraction breaks the intensity of the moment and you both laugh at the absurdity of it.

Carlos, trying to chase the runaway umbrella, calls out, “Rain check?”

You laugh, trying to calm your racing heartbeat, “Quite literally.”

***

“You won’t believe what Carlos did this time,” Antonio, one of the lead engineers, whispers to Paolo, a senior mechanic.

You’re nearby, checking the equipment for the upcoming practice session, but their hushed conversation catches your attention.

Paolo chuckles, “Can’t be crazier than what Charles tried last week.”

Antonio smirks, “Trust me, it’s right up there. Both of them, head over heels, and all for the same girl.”

Your curiosity piqued, you edge closer, feigning interest in a nearby tire. “Who is it?” You wonder internally, trying to think of any new female team members or journalists that might have caught their eye.

Paolo, clearly enjoying the gossip, leans in, “You think she has any idea?”

Antonio shakes his head, “Nope. She’s completely in the dark. It’s actually kind of adorable how clueless she is.”

You bite your lip, even more intrigued. “Who could it be?” You muse.

Deciding to join in the speculation, you casually approach, “Hey, what’s this I’m hearing about someone making our drivers lose their heads?”

Both men look up, surprised to see you so close. Antonio stammers, “Oh, hey Y/N. Just, um, some silly paddock rumors.”

Paolo, trying to divert the topic, adds, “You know how it is. People love making up stories.”

You nod, playing along, “Of course. But, come on, spill. Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”

Antonio and Paolo exchange glances, trying to gauge how much to reveal. Antonio finally speaks, “Let’s just say she’s someone who is always around but seems to be missing all the signs.”

You laugh, “Sounds like she’s got her head in the clouds. I can’t wait to find out who she is.”

Paolo grins, “Oh, it’ll come out eventually. These things always do.”

***

The meet-and-greet in Maranello is packed to the brim. Fans from all over the world have gathered to meet their favorite drivers and the team uniform you’re wearing means you’ve gathered a considerable crowd around you too.

As you sign autographs and chat with fans, you notice a group of them exchanging knowing glances and excited whispers.

“Y/N,” one brave fan begins, “we’ve got a question for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Sure, fire away.”

The fan clears their throat, “We’ve been following you and the drivers closely, and, well, we couldn’t help but notice something.”

You exchange a curious look with them, “Notice what?”

Another fan chimes in, “You see, Charles and Carlos, they ... they seem to be really close, you know, off the track.”

You nod, “Yeah, they’re good friends.”

A third fan interjects, ‘It’s more than that, though. We think they’re totally into someone.”

You chuckle, thinking they’re just indulging in the typical gossip. “Well, they are both very passionate about racing if that’s what you mean.”

The fans exchange disappointed glances. “She really doesn’t get it,” one of them whispers.

But they’re not giving up that easily. Another fan seems to have a plan. “Okay, Y/N, hypothetical scenario. What if these two drivers were in a race not for points but for something else?”

You’re intrigued, “What do you mean?”

The fan grins, “Imagine if they were trying to win someone’s heart and that someone is right here, oblivious to it all.”

You laugh, amused by their playful scenario. “That would be quite the competition.”

They exchange triumphant glances, “Exactly! So, who do you think this lucky person is?”

You shrug, genuinely not knowing who they’re referring to, “I have no idea. Probably some lucky girl out there.”

The fans let out an exaggerated groan, “She really has no clue.”

Another fan leans in, conspiratorial, “What if we told you that this lucky person is not some random girl but someone they work closely with?”

“What do you mean?”

The fans exchange sly grins, “We mean, what if the person they’re vying for is ... you?”

Your eyes widen in surprise and you laugh, thinking they’re just pulling your leg, “Me? That’s crazy. They’re just my friends.”

The fans share a look of exasperation and one of them sighs, “She’s hopeless.”

***

“Alright, everyone, gather around! Intervention time!” Your father announces, drawing you into the center of the group of staff that were gathered on the first floor of the Ferrari motorhome.

You look around, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

Paolo, chuckling, pats your shoulder, “You’ve got the observational skills of a goldfish.”

You pout, “Hey! I notice things.”

Antonio snorts, “Oh, really? Do you recall Monaco? During the team photo?”

You nod, confused, “Yeah, we were all there.”

Antonio grins, “Carlos was standing right next to you. Instead of giving a thumbs-up like everyone else, he made a heart sign with his hands right behind you. Literally, right behind your head.”

Eyes wide, you protest, “He did?”

Your father chimes in, “And remember in Silverstone? When you lost that bracelet your mother gave you?”

You nod, “Yes, I was devastated.”

He continues, “Charles spent the entire night searching for it. He found it at 3 am and then hand-delivered it to your room.”

Antonio adds, chuckling, “Wearing those ridiculous race car pajamas, I might add.”

You blink, processing the information, “I thought I just dropped it while getting dressed ...”

Paolo, shaking his head in amusement, recounts, “During the team BBQ, Carlos grilled those vegetarian sausages especially for you. Remember wondering why we had them?”

Your cheeks turn a shade redder, “I just thought he was being considerate for the vegetarians on the team.”

Your father laughs, “We don’t have any other vegetarians on the team, darling.”

Antonio recalls another incident, “In Spain, during that heatwave? Charles, out of nowhere, had a mini fan delivered to you. Said it was team equipment.”

You gasp, “That was him?”

Paolo, grinning, continues, “Ever wonder who leaves those freshly peeled oranges on your desk every race day? That’s Carlos’ handiwork.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “But … why?”

Your father steps forward, placing a comforting arm around you, “Sweetheart, it’s because they’re both completely smitten with you. And while it’s entertaining for us to watch, it’s also driving the entire team bonkers with every passing day that you don’t realize.”

You look around, taking in the nodding heads and amused expressions, “I ... I had no idea.”

Antonio chuckles, “Clearly.”

Paolo adds, “It’s like watching a rom-com unfold right before our eyes, only you seem to have missed the entire plot.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “Okay, maybe I’ve been a bit oblivious.”

Your father smirks, “A bit oblivious? That’s like saying Ferrari is known for being a bit red.”

Antonio gives you a friendly pat on the back, “Welcome to the real race, Y/N. Buckle up.”

***

Carlos clears his throat, his usual confidence replaced with a rare nervousness, “Y/N, can we talk? Like, really talk?”

You drop what you’re doing, “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Charles, appearing from the shadows, adds, “Actually, I’d like to be part of this conversation as well.”

You’re taken aback. “Alright, you both have my attention.”

Carlos begins, running his fingers through his hair, “You know, racing isn’t just about speed. It’s about timing, making the right move at the right moment.”

Charles nods in agreement, “Sometimes, you wait too long and the opportunity passes you by.”

You squint, trying to decipher their cryptic words, “Are we talking about racing or ...?”

Carlos exhales deeply, “This isn’t about racing. This is about ... us. You, me, Charles.”

Charles interjects, his gaze intense, “It’s about feelings. Ones that have been growing and evolving.”

You swallow, your heart pounding, “I think I know where this is going.”

Carlos, his voice laced with vulnerability, confesses, “Every time I do something hoping it will make you smile, every time I go out of my way just to be near you ... it’s not just because of friendship.”

Charles adds, “And every gesture, every moment we’ve shared, it’s been my way of trying to show you how I feel.”

Your eyes well up with emotion, “I ... I gained an inkling just recently but I still wasn’t sure.”

Carlos takes a deep breath, “We’re not just talking about individual feelings here. What we’re trying to say is we both care for you and we’ve discussed it. We both want to be with you and for the three of us to explore this ... together.”

Charles nods, “We want to navigate this track as a trio. If you’re willing.”

Carlos steps closer, his eyes searching yours, “We just needed you to know. Whatever you decide, we’ll respect it.”

Charles nods, “Just ... take your time. We’re here, no matter what.”

You take a deep breath, “I need some time to think, to process all of this.”

Carlos offers a soft smile, “Of course, Y/N. We understand.”

Charles gently places a hand on your shoulder, “We’ll wait, however long it takes. Your feelings matter to us. You matter to us.”

***

“Safety car deployed, safety car deployed!” The voice over the radio jolts you into high alert.

“What happened?” You ask anxiously, watching the large screen that displays the race.

Your father’s voice shakes slightly, “Multi-car collision at Turn 4. I can’t see which cars are involved yet.”

Your heart races, thinking of Charles and Carlos. “Please, let them be okay.”

Paolo, eyes glued to the live feed, mutters, “This looks bad.”

The images on the screen show plumes of smoke and debris scattered across the track. The safety car slows the procession of vehicles and you can see marshals running toward the crash site.

Suddenly, Charles comes on the radio, sounding strained but intact, “I’m okay but Carlos ... I can’t see Carlos.”

A weight settles in your stomach. Panic floods your veins. “Please, no.”

His race engineer’s voice cracks with urgency, “Carlos, if you can hear me please respond.”

What feels like hours pass but in reality it’s only seconds before Carlos’ shaky voice breaks through, “I’m here ... I’m okay. Got a bit shaken but I’m fine.”

You slump in relief, tears pricking your eyes. The reality of how precious life is and how quickly things can change hits you like a tidal wave.

Once the chaos subsides and both Charles and Carlos are confirmed safe, you rush out to the pits, needing to see them with your own eyes.

Charles, spotting you first, rushes over, his race suit smeared with dirt and sweat. Without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, the tension and relief palpable between you two.

Carlos joins, wrapping his arms around both of you, his breathing still slightly labored from the shock.

You pull away, tears streaming down your face, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Carlos musters up a hint of a smirk, “Didn’t plan to, trust me.”

Charles adds softly, looking deep into your eyes, “It makes you realize what’s really important.”

You nod, your decision clear. The events of the day, combined with the confessions of the previous week, cement your feelings. “Life is short. Too short not to be with who you care about.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, “Does that mean ...?”

You smile, nodding, “Yes. I want to be with both of you. We’ll figure it all out together.”

***

“France in winter is so enchanting,” Carlos muses as you all stroll through the snow-covered streets of your hometown, having flown there right after the end of the season.

You laugh, “You should see it in spring.”

Charles wraps one an arm around your waist and the other around Carlos, “With you as our guide, I’m sure every season is beautiful.”

The moment you all step into your family home, the familiar smell of your favorite dish wafts through the air. “Ah, maman’s coq au vin!” You exclaim.

Carlos looks intrigued, “What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional French chicken stew,” Charles explains, revealing his fondness for it too.

At the dinner table, your father raises a toast, “To family, old and new.” It’s a nod to Charles and Carlos, welcoming them into the fold.

Throughout the night, more wine is poured and stories are exchanged. Heading about your childhood misadventures makes Carlos chuckle and Charles smirk as your mother brings out the photo album no matter how much you beg her to save you the embarrassment.

Your grandmother pulls you aside and whispers, “It’s beautiful, cherie, how the heart can expand to make room for more love.”

***

Next stop: Monaco. Before you can even ring the doorbell to Charles’ family home, Lorenzo swings it open, his grin wide. “Ah! The infamous new trio. We’ve heard so much about you.”

You laugh, “All good things, I hope?”

Arthur, joining Lorenzo at the doorway, smirks, “Mostly just about how our dear Charles here can’t stop talking about you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, a hint of red tinting his cheeks. “Can we not start with the teasing five seconds in?”

Carlos chuckles, elbowing Charles lightly, “It’s what brothers are for, right?”

Lorenzo nods, winking at you, “Oh, absolutely. You should’ve seen Charles when he was younger. Always getting into mischief.”

Arthur, with a gleeful glint in his eyes, adds, “Remember that time with the go-kart?”

Charles groans, “Do we really have to bring that up now?”

“Oh, but now I’m curious.”

Lorenzo, not missing a beat, narrates, “Our dear Charles decided to modify his go-kart engine. Let’s just say it ended up in the neighbor’s pool.”

Carlos bursts into laughter, “I wish I’d seen that!”

At one point, when Charles steps out to take a call, Lorenzo leans in, “In all seriousness, we haven’t seen Charles this happy in a long time.”

Arthur nods in agreement, “Whatever you two are doing, keep it up. It’s good for him.”

***

The three of you touch down in Spain to ring in the New Year. The evening is filled with laughter, traditional music, and the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked meals. As midnight approached, Carlos’ mother brings out individual bowls filled with glistening grapes.

“You know about the Spanish tradition, right?” Carlos asks.

You shake your head.

Carlos explains, “At the stroke of midnight, for every chime of the clock, you eat a grape. Twelve chimes, twelve grapes. It’s said to bring good luck for the coming year.”

You chuckle, eyeing the bowl, “Sounds easy enough.”

It was not easy.

The first chime rings out and everyone pops a grape into their mouth. By the fourth chime, you’re struggling, laughter bubbling up around a mouthful of the fruit as you desperately try to keep up.

Charles, equally struggling, shoots you a wide-eyed look, grapes nearly falling out of his mouth.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems to have mastered the art, smoothly munching away, though his eyes reveal his suppressed laughter.

As the twelfth chime rings out, you finally manage to swallow the mouthful, gasping for breath air rounded by the hearty laughter of Carlos’ family.

Carlos’ father claps you and Charles on the back, “Well done! You two are practically Spanish now.”

You laugh, wiping away a tear, “I think I’ll need a few more years of practice.”

Carlos grins, wrapping an arm around you, “Don’t worry, we will have many more New Years for you to perfect it.”

***

The sun casts a golden hue on the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore. Your feet are buried in the soft sand and you lean back, enjoying the feeling of warmth on your skin.

Taking a moment to appreciate the surroundings, you sigh, “The view is so breathtaking.”

Charles, reclining beside you with sunglasses perched atop his head, follows your gaze. His eyes, however, are not on the horizon but on Carlos, who’s emerging from the water, droplets glistening on his toned body. Without missing a beat, Charles replies flirtatiously, “Yes, he definitely is.”

Carlos laughs as he approaches, water dripping from him, “You two are impossible.”

You smirk, “Well, can you blame him? You do look quite ... impressive."

Carlos, towel now draped around his neck, grins, “Is that so? Maybe I should spend more time at the beach then.”

Charles mock pouts, “And less time with your car?”

Carlos pretends to think about it, “Tough choice. But I think I can find a balance.”

***

“Look who’s back and glowing!” Paolo greets as the three of you walk into the paddock together for pre-season testing.

Antonio joins in the teasing, “Carlos, you’ve got that sun-kissed tan going on and Charles ... did you forget the sunscreen again?”

Charles laughs sheepishly, touching his slightly reddened nose, “Apparently, I just burn.”

Carlos smirks, “We tried but some people are just destined to be crispy.”

You laugh, nudging Carlos, “Don’t be mean. But … we did have that one day when he turned a shade that matched the Ferrari.”

***

“Here’s to the dream team!” Antonio raises his champagne flute, his eyes shimmering under the bright lights of the party.

Charles, holding his second-place trophy, grins, nudging Carlos who’s proudly holding his first-place one. “Feels pretty good to have another double podium, doesn’t it?”

Carlos laughs, “Only because I’m one step higher!”

“Hey! It was the other way around last weekend,” Charles pretends to sulk.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Children, children. Share your toys nicely.”

Paolo chimes in, “It’s not just about the podium finishes. The energy this season ... it’s been different, more vibrant.”

Charles takes a moment, his gaze flitting between Carlos and you. “Well, happiness does tend to have that effect.”

Carlos wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

***

“You would think that after all these years, I’d have gotten the hang of it,” your father laments, eyeing the bowl of freshly washed grapes in front of him.

Carlos’ mother laughs, patting his arm, “You’ll do just fine this time, Fred. We’ve all been practicing.”

Charles smirks, glancing at his brothers, “Oh, trust me, they’ve turned it into a competitive sport. Last year, Lorenzo managed to eat an extra grape by mistake!”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, “One time! And I blame Arthur for distracting me.”

“Okay, it’s almost time,” Carlos says. “Remember, the key is not to rush.”

You chuckle, “Says the man who’s been acing this since he was a kid.”

Carlos winks, “Natural talent.”

The clock begins to chime, marking the impending arrival of the New Year. Everyone takes their positions, holding their grapes, waiting for the signal.

As each chime rings out, laughter fills the room. The past mishaps with the grapes only make the current attempt all the more entertaining.

When the twelfth chime fades, everyone erupts in cheers. Even your father, much to his delight, has successfully completed it in time.

Charles wraps an arm around you, “Another year, another challenge conquered.”

Carlos steps up to kiss both of you, tasting distinctly of grape, “With many more to come.”

You smile, looking around at the blending of families, the fusion of traditions, and the love that fills the room. “I can’t wait to spend every New Year together with you for the rest of our lives.”

[alltimefail]

Okay so I have more thoughts on Dead Boy Detectives but this is less about scene analysis and more about my own personal interpretation of Charles as I truly believe Charles' inability to fully "reciprocate" Edwin's feelings is less about accepting his sexuality/lack of awareness about his sexuality and more about feeling unworthy of being on the receiving end of Edwin's love (and about bad timing - them being in an afterlife or eternal suffering situation on the literal stairs of hell, but I digress lol). This would explain, pretty seamlessly, why he seems to seek out fleeting or "fun" romances and flirtations. It would also explain why, immediately following the confession, there are micro-changes, blink-and-you'll-miss-it differences in Charles' behaviors and expressions. It's clear that our boy is reflecting, and he meant it when he said he intended to "figure out what the rest means..." even if it takes him forever (and I doubt it will, but again... I digress). This is why calling his reassurances to Edwin on the staircase a "rejection" and putting Charles in a box as default-straight is a complete disservice to his character, to the writers, to the queer brilliance that rings beautifully in every facet of this show, and to Jayden Revri who is an exceptional actor with a palpable, deep love and reverence for the character he's portraying.

As a repressed PTSD bisexual™️ myself, I can't help but connect Charles' history with abuse alongside his poor perception of self, people-pleasing tendencies, and his quickness to stifle and repress his own feelings and desires to his fear of being a "bad person." It would not surprise me if Charles would fear the possibility that he is capable of taking something fragile, beautiful, raw, and vulnerable (Edwin's love) and destroy it in the way his father did.

Charles has always loved fully and without caution; I would even say he loves recklessly at times, throwing himself in front of danger, even to his own detriment. But has anyone fully loved him back in the way he loves? Charles has always loved Edwin, but did he ever allow himself to humor the idea that Edwin might just love him back?

It's evident that Charles had very little kindness in his life. Charles' friends were conditional at best and violent/abusive at their worst, his father was a monster, and his mother (who, in all fairness, was also a victim of abuse) was quiet and complicit in the abuse Charles received from his father. His entire afterlife is intrinsically connected to Edwin's - his entire existence, and Edwin's entire existence, are so closely entwined to one another that to "screw up" the delicate balance they've struck would be more than unfortunate - it would be earth-shattering, a loss like no other. Charles is impulsive, but he is not careless...quite the opposite, actually. I truly think whether or not he's attracted to men is not the issue; it wouldn't surprise me if, at the very least, Charles is aware he is attracted to people regardless of gender and just doesn't have the language to put a label to that sensation yet (he might have never been compelled to put a label on it, frankly). The issue is that Charles is unsure if he is deserving of someone not just loving him, but being in love with him... especially when it's coming from someone he thinks is the best person in the world, the most important person to him, the only person he would deny heavy and defy hell for.

Honestly Charles might even already know he has feelings toward Edwin specifically that are not strictly platonic, but taking that gamble even though he struggles with feelings such as being undeserving of Edwin; that he would be selfish to take a love he's undeserving of; that Edwin might come to realize, at some point, that he was mistaken in loving Charles and that being with Charles isn't actually enough/what he hoped it would be and he regrets his confession all together. Or, perhaps worst of all, what if Charles finds that the nagging fear he's buried deep down was correct all along... that he actually is like his father and capable of hurting Edwin and bastardizing the concept of love as a whole?

There are stakes when it comes to loving Edwin - if he were to screw up what they have, the consequences would be disastrous, it very well might destroy him. He cannot be careless, he cannot be impulsive, he cannot risk destroying what he and Edwin have. I'm not sure Charles has ever not loved Edwin, but he probably never humored that his Edwin: touch-reserved, buttoned-up, logical, stubborn, beautiful, kind Edwin who brought a warm light to Charles in his darkest moment, could feel that way, too... especially about him. What is he to do with that?

[folkloresthings]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: cursing

despite being the one to have sent the message, you could only stare at the screen of your phone as it rang, charles’ name lighting up, a picture you’d taken of him filling the screen. just before it could ring off, you pressed the green button and held it to your ear. neither of you spoke for a moment, just soft breathing against the speaker.

“hi,” you whispered, breath held in your chest, wondering if he was really there. you didn’t even know if you wanted to speak to him. hell, you didn’t know how you were feeling — only that you were falling madly in love one minute, and heartbroken the next.

“hello, ma cherie,” charles’ unmistakable accent filled your senses, allowing that breath you were holding to be let out. even now, he was using that silly pet name that made you smile. frankly, the love you felt for him hadn’t really gone away, despite what he’d done. you’d only wished it had never happened, and life could go on.

“lewis came to see me. he explained what happened, but i want to hear it from you.” trying your best to keep your voice steady, your knuckles grip at the bedsheets under you. you could hear him sigh on the other side, a long breath.

“i— didn’t mean for any of this to happen. fuck. i was drunk, too drunk to realise what she was trying to do. i probably should have shut her down sooner, but i wasn’t thinking,” he told you quietly. his voice caught, and you knew then he was crying. half of your heart yearned to comfort him, the other to shake him firmly. “i went looking for you after, but lily told me you’d left. so i tried to catch up, but she kept fucking following me. i had to get security to do something about it.”

you swallowed hard, a hundred daggers lining your throat. what were you supposed to say? if you listened to your heart, you would forgive him in an instant. you’d book a flight to wherever he was racing that weekend and let him bundle you up in his arms, take you to bed and make you forget it all. but you’d been throat a lot. you had to be smart, strong — more than just a lovesick girl.

“i’ve been let down so many times, charles. and i was so blind, i didn’t think you would do it too,” you were both crying, his soft sniffles filling your speaker. “i can’t just… pretend this never happened.”

“you shouldn’t have to. but — i can’t lose you, y/n. shit, you’re the first good thing i’ve had in a long time.”

you choked on a sob, praying he hadn’t heard it. he was sweet, so awfully and cruelly sweet, and it wasn’t at all fair. despite his recent mistakes, he scored five stars every time.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you pondered, and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have let you think my heart was ready for all of this. after austin i… i should have waited a little while.”

“y/n…”

“maybe we just need a little time. to figure ourselves out.”

he sighed, knowing he shouldn’t battle you on this. no matter how he wanted to beg you on his knees and make everything better again. “three months.”

“what?” you replied.

“it’s three months until the grand prix final, the last race, and until your finished touring. i’ll leave you alone until then, but i’ll set aside a paddock pass for you there. if you want to trust me then, come. please.” his offer feels terribly gallant, respectful of your feelings, that it brings a smile onto your face.

“alright. three months.”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by niallhoran, lewishamilton, and 900,231 others

yourusername if i’m just writing happy songs, will anybody sing along?

view all 438,927 comments

joeyking who’s lady and who’s the tramp

⤷ yourusername i think we both know the answer to that

user tbh i preferred charles with charlotte than her

⤷ user no i’ve been waiting for someone to agree w me

landonorris setting the last picture as your contact pic rn

user team y/n or team charles take ur vote

⤷ user is this all you people have to talk about? shes her own person and was famous for years before she got involved with him

user tours almost over 🥲

⤷ yourusername 3 months 🥲🥲🥲

INSTAGRAM.

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ynnews the singular tour is almost over!!!! it’s been such a good few months, we’ve seen y/n go through so much but we’ve also watched her grow 🥺 so very proud of her. fingers crossed for new music & another tour soon!

view all 5,271 comments

user i wasn’t able to go to any of the shows but i have LOVED watching all of the videos of her performing

user the fact taylor, madison, maisie, gracie and olivia all flew to europe just to perform with her when she was in a bad place 😭

yourusername BABY 🫶🤍 this is so so sweet. but it’s you guys that have made this tour, coming out every night and singing along to every word. i love you all more than anything in this world.

⤷ user MOM I LOVE YOU

TWITTER.

INSTAGRAM.

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yourusername guys 🥺 we won all four nominated categories i could cry. but seriously, thank you all so much for your continued support and love. there’s so many people i could thank, but i won’t get round to them all. you know who you are. thank you ❤️

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taylorswift there’s no one more deserving 🫶

adele 👑👑👑

user GRAMMY WINNER Y/N

harrystyles congrats love!!

user she made it 🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton my girl !! roscoe says well done 🤍

honeymoon baby girl i’m so proud

user the universe giving her back what she deserves 🙌🙌🙌

IMESSAGE.

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