#charles leclerc x reader

[checkeredflagggs]

Winner’s Circle

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader x charles leclerc

summary: max, charles, and y/n are the stars of redbull, ferrari, and aston martin (and their relationship is the star of the internet)

a/n: sorry Lance but bye bye! Fem!Reader is now driving for aston martin . This takes place in 2025 and certain predictions I make are NOT how I think the season will go

a/n2: this was requested and I really liked it! It was a good jump into poly fics which is something I’d like to write more off — nony I hope you like it! Sorry it took awhile…

a/n3: I love how Liam got a seat and immediately started making enemies 🤣 so I kept that tradition

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,833,184 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: mine. All mine. Stay mad!

view all comments

user1: damn girl…

↳user2: girls got game! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user3: dream threesome right there!

↳user4: which ones?

↳user3: yes liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

↳user4: understandable. Continue on

oscarpiastri: congrats dad and dad and mom

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks osc

↳maxverstappen1: 👍🏻

↳oscarpiastri: thrilling conversation right there liked by charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: thank you son!

olliebearman: new parents? (Congratulations!)

↳maxverstappen1: how many children do you have? Because I feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳charles_leclerc: 🤭🤭

↳y/n_am_racing: ignore them Ollie and thank you

↳olliebearman: of course!

liamlawson30: I’m not calling you mom

↳y/n_am_racing: I’d run you over if you tried

↳charles_leclerc: such violence against Max’s kid!

↳y/n_am_racing: such violence against the damn annoyance

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Me alegra que estemos de acuerdo contra él. Glad we are in agreement against him

↳y/n_am_racing: Aston Martin against Liam! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I am being so attacked right now and I didn’t even do anything

↳fernandoalo_oficial: tu existes you exist

↳y/n_am_racing: you exist!

user5: Liam not even having his seat for a month and already beefing with Aston Martin is hilarious

↳user6: one of the original grid terrorists and the girl everyone calls the Ice Bitch because of how fucking cold and mean she is? Not the best choices for enemies liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

astonmartinf1: Congrats!

↳astonmartinf1: but maybe give this poor admin a wanting next time?

↳scuderiaferrari: or this one?

↳redbullracing: any admin actually

↳user7: these fools really didn’t tell anyone they were gonna hard launch their relationship?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: better to ask forgiveness than for permission

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️☺️

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, and 2,283,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: Ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

view all comments

user8: oh hello jealousy thanks for your visit

user9: what I would give to be apart of that relationship…

↳user10: same! Are they looking for a forth? A dog? I can bark

maxverstappen1: mijn liefje my sweetheart

↳y/n_am_racing: have I told you guys lately I fucking love it when you speak foreign to me?

↳user11: ���

↳charles_leclerc: mes étoiles, pourquoi ne le dis-tu pas encore au cas où. My stars, why don’t you say it again just incase

↳maxverstappen1: niet recentelijk en de herinnering is leuk. Not recently and the reminder is nice

↳y/n_am_racing: hot 🥵🥵🥵🥵

oscarpiastri: is the family dinner still on?

↳y/n_am_racing: of course! Sunday at 4 at Max’s

↳olliebearman: am i still invited?

↳charles_leclerc: of course!

↳kimi.antonelli: you’re just gonna leave me alone?

↳y/n_am_racing: why don’t you come too kimi?

↳kimi.antonelli: sì, grazie!

↳maxverstappen1: again how many grid kids do you have? Because I still feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳y/n_am_racing: at least ours are polite. Yours is…Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: honestly fuck you?

↳maxverstappen1: what

↳charles_leclerc: do not speak that way to her!

↳liamlawson30: she started it!!

↳y/n_am_racing: ha!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, user, and 3,121,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n_am_racing: baby i'm astounded by how this country screams your name (just like I will)

view all comments

astonmartinf1: please report to HR for another round of pr training

↳user12: leave our girl alone!

↳y/n_am_racing: thank you!

↳user12: she absolutely did something wrong but it was funny af liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

↳y/n_am_racing: 😑😑

charles_leclerc: 🥰😘 liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: meet me in your room in five

↳scuderiaferrari: No

↳charles_leclerc: yes!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late

↳astonmartinf1: definitely need that pr training…

maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: try winning a race this year? And maybe you’ll get the same kind of post

↳user13: oh my god what a reminder that this hasn’t been redbull’s year…

↳y/n_am_racing: it’s because of Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I’m going to run you over

↳y/n_am_racing: in that fucking tractor? You’d have to catch me first

↳user14: it might not be redbull’s year but it IS y/n’s! liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user15: the Ferrari domination this year is hot as fuck

↳user16: he could dominate me…

↳y/n_am_racing: hem-hem?

↳user16: THEORETICALLY. I MEAN THEORETICALLY

↳y/n_am_racing: much better

user17: as a ferrari and y/n fan i am loving this year!!

↳user18: as a max fan i am not…

lewishamilton: do I need to find a new room tonight?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: or do I?

↳y/n_am_racing: yes

↳maxverstappen1: yes

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, and 3,173,284 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt, flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, estebanocon, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63, landonorris, lewishamilton, logansargeant, mickschumacher, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, zhouguanyu24

y/n_am_racing: thank you to my boys and my girls and the grid for the best 27th birthday ever!

view all comments

user20: the fomo I’m experiencing right now…

↳user21: no I know what you mean

lilymhe: that was literally the best birthday party ever!

↳y/n_am_racing: only because you were there!

↳lilymhe: well that’s just not true pretty girl!

↳maxverstappen1: stop flirting with our girlfriend?

↳y/n_am_racing: shush

↳lilymhe:😘

↳maxverstappen1:🙄

landonorris: where do I send my bill?

↳y/n_am_racing: for what?

↳landonorris: for my dj services?

↳y/n_am_racing: you mean when you drunkenly took over the music for 5 minutes then passed out on top of a table?

↳landonorris: is that why I have sharpie all over my face?

↳alex_albon: yeah

↳georgerussell63: it was a tempting target

↳maxverstappen1: yup

↳carlossainz55: an opportunity I didn’t want to miss

user22: ok but was everyone in the grid invited?

↳y/n_am_racing: yup! And everyone came for the dinner but it was only the kool kids that went to the after party

↳user23: even Liam?

↳y/n_am_racing: we needed someone to stick the bill on liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: SERIOUSLY?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: ¿Por qué pagaríamos cuando estabas allí? Why would we pay when you were right there? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳user23: your continued hatred of Liam is probably my favorite part of the season…

lewishamilton: props where they’re do — you guys can throw a mean party 🥳

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Lew! And thank you for the gifts — I love them

↳user24: who else is curious about what y/n got?

↳y/n_am_racing: he got me a couple of custom Louis Vuitton shoes!

↳y/n_am_racing: and some of the other guys got me the matching purses!

↳user25: I am so unbelievably jealous liked by y/n_am_racing

yukitsunoda0511: the food passed the test

↳y/n_am_racing: not sure what test it was but glad you enjoyed it! And thanks for the Japanese cookbooks — I’m expecting actual lessons though!

↳yukitsunoda0511: good plan!

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,938,183 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: treating our girl right for her birthday

view all comments

y/n_am_racing: thank you my loves. It was the best birthday ever 💚💚

↳charles_leclerc: Mes étoiles, c'est tout à fait normal que nous fêtions votre anniversaire. C'était le plus beau jour de notre vie parce que tu es né et tu es finalement devenu le nôtre. My stars, it is only right we celebrate your birthday. It was the best day of our lives because you were born and eventually became ours.

↳maxverstappen1: Mijn schatje, de hele dag doorbrengen met het verwennen van jou was het gemakkelijkste wat ik ooit heb gedaan. My treasure, spending the day spoiling you was the easiest thing i've ever done.

user26: is that…is that max verstappen being soft? Mad max? Being soft? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: aren’t I the luckiest?

↳user27: you really truly are

fernandoalo_oficial: feliz cumpleaños niña. Happy birthday girlie

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Nando!

↳user28: god this mentor/mentee partnership is the best. Not taking any questions or criticisms

↳y/n_am_racing: easy to do when it has both me AND nando! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

astonmartinf1: happy birthday!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks admin!

liamlawson30: you definitely look older!

↳y/n_am_racing: when you go missing, I won’t be sad liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: 😑👎🏻

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial, and 1,273,832 others

y/n_am_racing: Canada oh Canada thank you thank you thank you! P1 BABY!

view all comments

astonmartinf1: THATS OUR GIRL! Y/N POINTS!

↳y/n_am_racing: HELL YEAH I AM!

fernandoalo_oficial: felicidades, niña! Congratulations, girlie!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks nando! And congrats on p4!

↳user29: Aston Martin for WCC!! liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: glad to be on podium with you both

↳y/n_am_racing: we’ll have to do it more often 😘

↳charles_leclerc: ma lune et mes étoiles, vous êtes toutes les deux tellement incroyables! my moon and stars, you are both so amazing!

↳y/n_am_racing: my room in five? liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

↳astonmartinf1: no they’re banned

↳scuderiaferrari: stop stealing our driver!

↳redbullracing: No!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late!!

user30: today is definitely y/n’s day — p1, podium with her boys, and she’s getting railed?

↳y/n_am_racing: 😊😊😊

↳user30: tell me your ways please

↳y/n_am_racing: nah

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,824,284 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: vacances d'été avec ma lune et mes étoiles. Summer break with my moon and stars

view all comments

y/n_am_racing: nowhere else I’d rather be…

↳user31: girl same

↳y/n_am_racing: back off! They’re mine! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: it’s been a good break so far

↳charles_leclerc: it has! 🥰🥰

↳user32: oh to be on a boat with y/n, max, and Charles…

↳y/n_am_racing: ngl it’s pretty great

oscarpiastri: padel tomorrow?

↳y/n_am_racing: ugh no

↳charles_leclerc: absolutely!

↳maxverstappen1: sure

lilymhe: golf tomorrow y/n_am_racing?

↳y/n_am_racing: anything for you pretty girl!

↳alex_albon: am i just chopped liver?

↳y/n_am_racing: tbh some people actually like chopped liver so…liked by lilymhe

user10: again are they looking for a forth?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: no

↳charles_leclerc: non

↳user33: shut! down!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,813,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: I forgot how good you looked on the top step baby

view all comments

user34: go max!

user35: congrats max!

maxverstappen1: it’s been awhile

↳y/n_am_racing: I think the saying is good things come to those that wait?

↳maxverstappen1: I’m not very good with waiting hence the race cars…

↳charles_leclerc: …your room in 5?

↳y/n_am_racing: already there!

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️

↳astonmartinf1: sorry redbullracing she was tooo fast for us

↳scuderiaferrari: Charles we can’t keep doing this…

↳redbullracing: you guys were specifically banned from our garage!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

↳maxverstappen1: thanks oscar

user36: god it’s been so long

↳y/n_am_racing: sorry not sorry but I’m gonna make sure it takes this long for the next one!

↳maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: 🥺🥺🥺🥺 liked by maxverstappen1

↳maxverstappen1: 🙄

liamlawson30: don’t crash into me challenge FAILED

↳y/n_am_racing: when is Max Verstappen second driver curse gonna kick in?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: hopefully soon liked by y/n_am_racing

↳liamlawson30: how do I dislike a comment??

↳y/n_am_racing: THIS IS MY COMMENT SECTION!!!

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc,y/n_am_racing, user and 3,129,287 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: what an incredible season — not the one we wanted obviously but I am so incredibly proud of charles_leclerc on his WDC and y/n_am_racing and astonmartinf1 for their WCC. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger next year — I’ll be coming for my trophies.

Now it’s time to rest and relax with my loves.

comments have been restricted on this post

astonmartinf1: thank you max! But don’t think we’ll make it easy for you liked by y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: ma lune, ce fut un plaisir de courir contre toi l'année dernière. my moon, it was a pleasure to race against you the past year

↳maxverstappen1: it’s always a pleasure to race against you and y/n liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

fernandoalo_oficial: tu es presque sûr que tu as oublié de remercier quelqu'un? pretty sure you forgot to thank someone?

↳maxverstappen1: oh yeah…

↳maxverstappen1: congrats I guess

y/n_am_racing: I can’t wait to spend the next couple of months with just you and Charles! 💚💚

↳maxverstappen1: the best part of the year

↳charles_leclerc: it’ll be a good break ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @loveylee @voidvannie

[maxtermind]

WHAT DO YOU THINK MY FUTURE HUSBAND WILL LOOK LIKE?

( texts masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

★ : summary :: pranking your f1 boyfriend asking him the above ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ★ : genre :: crack; sexual. changed themes halfway in

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: ignore the typos, feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[satellite-evans]

Bisous

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: Charles' daughter loves to prank him <3

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The morning sun began its slow ascent over the horizon, filtering through the sheer curtains of your Monaco apartment. The soft, honey-hued glow that spread across the room seemed to breathe life into every corner. The elegant furniture, a blend of sleek modernity and comfortable coziness, caught the light in just the right way, creating an atmosphere of peaceful serenity. Outside, the sounds of the city were a distant hum—a low, constant pulse that blended with the faint rustling of leaves from the balcony plants, which swayed gently in the breeze. Every so often, you could hear the soft cry of seagulls soaring above the harbor, a reminder of the water that lay just beyond the city’s edge. Together, these sounds formed a comforting melody, one that had become the soundtrack to your mornings. It was a rhythm you cherished deeply, a moment of stillness amidst the sometimes overwhelming pace of life.

The rich, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted from the kitchen, swirling through the air and wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. It was your daily ritual—the one constant in your life that always brought a sense of calm. The familiar scent, warm and robust, settled in your chest as you took a slow, deep breath, savoring it. No matter how chaotic the rest of the day might become, this quiet moment was yours. It was the calm before the storm, the stillness before the world outside demanded your attention.

However, as is often the case with motherhood, this tranquil morning wouldn’t last long.

The soft, rhythmic sound of tiny feet pattering against the hardwood floor quickly broke the serenity. You turned just in time to see Amelie—your 2.5-year-old whirlwind—darting through the living room, her chestnut curls bouncing with every step. She was full of energy, her cheeks flushed with excitement, as she chased Leo, the family dog, around the room. The dog, who was equally enthusiastic, skidded around the furniture, dodging her tiny hands that reached for him. Her laughter echoed throughout the apartment, a sound so pure and infectious that it filled the space with a warmth only she could bring.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the playful scene unfold from the kitchen. Despite the exhaustion that motherhood often brought, these moments—these bursts of joy—made it all worth it. The sight of Amelie, with her sparkling eyes that seemed to mirror Charles’ in their depth, and her tiny arms flailing as she ran after the dog, made your heart swell. She was the perfect blend of him—her father—and you.

It was almost hard to believe how fast she was growing up. Just a few months ago, she was still babbling nonsensically, and now she could say over 180 words (yes, you had counted them all), stringing together simple sentences that left you in awe. The way she repeated words, mimicking both you and Charles, was nothing short of miraculous. Each new sentence felt like a little victory, a reminder of how quickly time passed.

Amelie’s bond with Charles was a thing of its own. The two of them were inseparable, a pair that seemed destined for each other from the moment she was born. When Charles was home, she followed him everywhere, clinging to him with a love that was both adorable and touching. It was no surprise that her first word had been ‘Papa.’ Whenever Charles was around, her little world seemed to revolve around him, her every action drawing him into her orbit.

Today, though, was different. Today was special. Charles was finally coming home after weeks of being away for races. The moment Amelie heard the news that morning, she could hardly contain herself. She’d been bouncing on the bed, her tiny legs kicking in excitement, her high-pitched voice squealing with joy. "Papa come today! Maman, me excited!" she had exclaimed, her face lighting up with the kind of joy that only a child could express.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling her into your arms for a quick hug. "I know, baby, I’m excited too," you said softly, brushing her curls out of her face. "But you have to save some of that energy for Papa so you can play together later, okay?"

Amelie nodded, her excitement practically radiating off her. "Otay, Maman," she had replied, her eyes gleaming with anticipation and went straight to the living room.

That promise was long forgotten as she was now chasing Leo around the living room, they were running around as though the whole apartment was their personal racetrack. The scene was one of pure chaos, but it was the kind of chaos that made life so full.

"Amelie Leclerc, can you please stop chasing Leo?" You called out playfully, though you could barely keep up with her giggles and the sound of her tiny feet tapping across the floor. You tried to grab her, but she managed to duck away with a squeal of laughter, running in the opposite direction.

Despite the exhaustion you could already feel creeping in, you couldn’t help but smile. Watching her run, her little body so full of life, it was impossible to not be filled with love. You finally caught her, scooping her up into your arms, the warmth of her small frame against you grounding you in the moment.

"What's up with you, young lady? Where is all this energy coming from?" You asked, brushing the hair out of her face. "It’s not even noon yet, and Maman is already tired." You teased, brushing the hair out of her face.

You carried her to the kitchen and began preparing her breakfast. Charles had always been very careful about her diet, ensuring she had balanced, healthy meals, and you followed that lead. Today’s breakfast was simple but wholesome—milk, cereal, a little fruit, and a slice of whole wheat toast, all made with love. She ate everything, happily chatting about how she was going to greet Charles and show him her new toy car collection. Her excitement was palpable, filling the space around you with a warmth that seemed to echo the sunlight streaming through the windows.

After breakfast, you helped Amelie get ready, brushing her hair and letting her pick out a pink bow to match her outfit—a red Ferrari T-shirt and tiny denim shorts. As she twirled around, admiring herself in the mirror, she beamed with pride. "Look, Maman! I am beautiful!"

Your heart swelled with love for her, your eyes soft with affection. "Yes, you are, honey—the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," you told her, your voice thick with emotion.

Just as you were about to sit down on the couch, the front door creaked open, and the familiar sound of Leo’s excited bark filled the apartment. The dog’s tail wagged furiously as he bolted toward the door, clearly recognizing the scent of the one person he always welcomed with open arms—Charles. You turned toward the door, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw your husband step inside, his face lighting up the moment he saw you.

Leo sprinted toward him, jumping up to cover him in kisses, and Charles laughed as he crouched down to greet him. "Hey, Leo! Did you take care of our girls? Good boy!" he chuckled, scratching the dog’s ears.

You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hey, baby. Welcome home," you whispered against his skin, your heart racing at the feel of him in your arms once more. His familiar scent enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

Charles’s response was immediate. He cupped your face with both hands, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. A soft, needy sigh escaped him as his lips trailed down to your jaw, then to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and his hands roamed down your back, pulling you tighter to him as though he never wanted to let go.

"God, I missed you so much," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slid into your hair, gently tugging you closer, burying his face in the softness of it. "I thought about you every damn day. Your scent... the way you feel in my arms… I couldn’t wait to come home to you guys. Speaking of, where's Amelie? I missed her like crazy."

That was a good question. Normally, Amelie would be the first one to run to him, her little feet pounding against the hardwood floor as she squealed with excitement. But today, when you turned to see her, there she was, still sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, completely oblivious to her father’s return.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “Amelie, look! Papa is home! Aren’t you happy?” You called out gently, stepping toward her with Charles following close behind. The two of you sat down in front of her, a bit hesitant, unsure of what was going on.

Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but laced with concern. “Hey, chérie, Papa is home! Didn’t you miss me?” He gave her a hopeful smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness, clearly wondering if she’d forgotten him after all this time.

You joined in, trying to jog her memory. “Amelie, remember how excited you were this morning? You even picked your outfit for Papa.” You smiled as you spoke, trying to make the connection for her.

Amelie paused, still staring at the TV, her little fingers absently tracing the edge of her shirt. Then, without any warning, she leaned in and gave you a big, sloppy kiss right on the lips, her face lighting up with affection. “MUAH! Maman, I love you,” she said in her sweetest little voice, her eyes sparkling with pure love.

You were taken aback for a moment, smiling warmly at her. You could feel the surprise and confusion rising in Charles’s gaze, his mouth slightly open as he looked from Amelie to you. Why wasn’t she rushing to him, as she always did?

The silence hung in the air for a moment before Charles spoke up again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I knew it. She forgot me! Mon Dieu, my own daughter forgot me!” He let out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest in mock despair.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though a part of you shared the same confusion. You reached over and gently placed a reassuring hand on his chest, your thumb brushing over his shirt as you looked up at him with a small smile. “Relax, Charles. She was ecstatic this morning. Maybe she’s just shy. You know how she can get when she's in a new mood.”

Charles gave you a skeptical look, but before he could say anything else, Amelie turned toward you again and planted another kiss on your cheek. “MUAH! Maman is mine,” she said, giggling as she gave you a tight hug.

The affectionate gesture only made Charles’s face drop even further. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “I’ve been replaced, haven’t I? She’s all yours now, Maman.”

Just as Charles began to stand up, clearly disheartened, Amelie’s expression suddenly shifted. A twinkle danced in her eyes, and before either of you could react, she burst out laughing, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Surprise, Papa! I joke youuu!”

With a squeal of laughter, Amelie jumped off the couch and ran straight into Charles’s arms. He was caught off guard for a moment, but then, as if on instinct, he swept her up into his arms, his heart visibly lifting as he pulled her close.

“Oh my God, Amelie, you pranked Papa! You got me so good, chérie!” Charles laughed, his voice full of relief and pure joy as he kissed her cheeks over and over, showering her with affection. “Papa thought you forgot about him! You’re going to be trouble, little one.”

Amelie giggled, her tiny hands grasping his face, and with all the innocence of a child, she responded, “I remember you. Always. I love you, Papa.”

Charles’s eyes softened, and he blinked away a tear that had unexpectedly formed. He held her tightly, his voice full of emotion. “I love you too, mon amour,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

You watched the scene unfold, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. It was moments like these that made everything worthwhile—the simple, genuine love and affection that filled your home.

Amelie, still clinging to her father’s neck, turned toward you eagerly. “Papa, play cars with me now?” she asked, her voice full of anticipation.

Charles smiled, the familiar light returning to his eyes as he nodded. “Of course, let’s go! But first, a big group hug.” He pulled you both in close, wrapping his arms tightly around you and Amelie. The three of you stood there for a moment, savoring the closeness, the warmth of your little family.

“I love my girls,” he whispered, his voice filled with adoration.

You kissed his cheek, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love in your heart. “And we love you too,” you replied, your words sincere and full of warmth.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (48/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Time to say goodbye.

Warnings: 18+ (fingering, boob sucking, slight anal play, mentions of sex), fluffy fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: thank you all for your patience and kind words. I don't know what I'd do without you. I promise I'll be better in the future. I love you. feedback is appreciated.

The first thing you feel is the warm embrace and warm hands brushing through your hair. Still half asleep, you feel the gentle pressure on your head, and Charles slowly and lovingly scratches your scalp as if he wants to wake you up gently. 

Your eyes open just a crack before you decide to close them again and take a deep breath. Charles' chest is against your back, the heat of his skin burning through the shirt you're wearing. His arm is wrapped tightly around your middle and he's lying so close to you, with his head on your pillow and your legs entwined, that you don't know where your body ends and his begins. 

His touch is so familiar, so gentle and reassuring that you would almost fall asleep again if he didn't whisper in your ear.

“Good morning,” he breathes into your shoulder, his lips brushing your naked skin. His hand, which is not running through your hair, slowly slides under your shirt to press you even closer to him. ”How did you sleep, mon amour?”

You take a deep breath and snuggle closer to him. “Not long enough,” you reply in a sleepy voice. Tired, you stretch your head in his direction so that he can continue to massage your scalp. “Have you been awake for long?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not too long,” he replies, weaving his fingers through your hair. “But long enough to enjoy your company before I have to get up and pack my bags.” He presses his nose against your cheek before gently kissing your temple. 

You smile sleepily. “How about you? How did you sleep?”

Slowly, his hand moves up from your belly, his thumb gently stroking the curve of your breast, while his fingers linger on your ribs. “I dreamt of you,” he answers softly, his lips on your neck. He presses his hips against your ass so you can feel his erection. 

Oh, boy. 

Your pussy throbs as he nibs at the soft skin of your neck. You gasp silently, arching towards him. “And what exactly did you dream?” You reach out and grab his hair to press his face against you. 

His fingers on your ribs spread and move to your bare chest. “You and me. At training camp,” he begins to describe his dream, while his thumb and index finger gently roll your nipple. 

Slightly confused, you turn your head in his direction, your noses nudging each other. “At training camp? Please don't tell me we actually went through your training schedule there.

His green eyes sparkle in the morning light. His hand moves a little further and turns you completely around to face him, his fingers grasp the flesh of your thigh and pull it over his hip so that he can press his hard-on against your barely-clad heat. “Don't worry, mon amour,” he breathes. “We didn't follow my training schedule. But –��

“But what?” You put your hand on his cheek, the stubble pleasantly scratching the palm of your hand. You curl your leg a little tighter around his waist. 

A grin spreads across his beautiful face. “We were still physically active,” he admits, sliding his hand higher up your leg, under the hem of his boxer briefs, which you are wearing. Charles leans forward a bit and kisses the tip of your nose, your cheek, your neck. His teeth brush against your pulse and goosebumps spread across your body. 

Heat rises to your cheeks as his fingers trail over your ass, as if it were the most natural movement in the world. As if you had been a couple for ages. His touch is so familiar that you practically melt away. 

You can't even imagine what the next few days would be like without him. What you're supposed to do here without him, without your roommate. Without your best friend. Without the man you love. 

As his fingers slide between your thighs and he gently brushes his fingertips against your lips before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves, so making you whimper, the alarm on his cell phone goes off. Grumbling and annoyed, he pulls his hand out of your pants before licking his fingers briefly and rolling onto his back. He reaches back to turn off the alarm. Sighing, he grabs you and pulls you onto him. 

Surprised and aroused, you look down at him. “What –”

“I don't want to get up,” he complains, wrapping his arms around your back so that you couldn't get off him even if you wanted to. Which will never be the case in your life. Hell will freeze over before you voluntarily let go of Charles. ”Can't we just lie here and pretend the alarm never went off?”

Your head is on his neck, where you leave feather-light kisses on his warm skin. “That would be nice,” you agree with him and reach out to run your hand through his hair. 

Charles groans softly. “We can pretend, you know? I just don't go to training camp and we both spend the next few days together here, only leaving the bed when we have to, and we don't have to go without each other for a long, miserable time. And then we can go to Kika's New Year's party together instead of only seeing each other there.”

You giggle. “Sounds like a solid plan,” you reply quietly. “But I'm afraid that at some point you gave Andrea a key to this apartment and he would definitely be standing in front of our bed if you weren't standing downstairs on time with your things, dressed and ready to leave.”

His arms tighten around you. “Our bed?” He asks with a grin and raised eyebrows. 

The heat rises to your cheeks again. “Well, you said that you – that we –” You take a deep breath. “You said that we wouldn't sleep apart anymore. And so I thought –”

“I'm only messing with you,“ he smiles and kisses your forehead. ‘This is our bed. In our bedroom. In our apartment," he assures you and lets his fingers slide under your shirt again. Warm fingertips gently press into your spine, eliciting a soft sigh from you. You feel his hard and demanding bulge twitching against your stomach. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.“ You kiss his neck one last time before sitting up. His arms come off you and fall at his side, while your knees press into the mattress next to his hips as you sit up. ”Come on.” You reach for his hand and pull him into a sitting position as well. ”You have to get up.”

Immediately, his arms wrap around your torso again, pressing you against him and positioning you so that your legs can wrap around his hips. You sit straddling his lap and feel his boner against your pussy as his hands roam over your heated body again. 

“I don't want to get up,” he repeats as he leans forward and begins to nibble on your neck. As his lips reach your pulse and he gently sucks on your skin there, you involuntarily rub against him. 

“Charles,” you breathe, hands on his naked shoulders, fingernails digging into his back as he begins rocking you back and forth. ”You have to.”

His fingers grasp the hem of your shirt and without thinking, you raise your arms so that he can pull it over your head. “Says who?” he asks, raising his eyebrow as he throws the garment on the floor. He pulls you close again, fingers sliding into your briefs and kneading your ass as his lips glide hotly across your front. 

Your fingers dig into his hair as his mouth closes around your nipple and he begins to suck. “Oh fuck,” you moan, pressing his face closer to you as you arch towards him. His hands slide deeper into your boxer shorts, digging into your flesh and spreading you a little further for him. “Charles.”

Your best friend lets go of your nipple, but only to suck a hickey into the soft skin next to it. “I know.” As the spot darkens, his mouth slides further and his lips close around your other tit, coaxing another gasp from your lips. His sucks hard, making your head reel and arousal pool in your boxer briefs. 

One of his hands slides lower, fingertips circling your clit before lazily rubbing. You twitch in his hold, your pussy still sensitive from the orgasms he gave you last night, but you couldn’t care less in this moment. You buck your hips into his hand as his fingers close around your nub, toying with it like they did with your nipple a few minutes ago. 

Sparks run through your veins, setting you on fire, burning you to ashes at his touch. 

„My girl“, he moans against your tit, tongue flicking against the bud before sucking again. When you twitch once more, legs trembling slightly, he moves his fingers away from your clit. 

„No, please“, you whine in protest, wanting him closer, wanting more. Wanting him. 

Charles looks up at you, pupils blown and the green almost vanished from his eyes. „Please what? You’re too sensitive, mon amour“, he teases you, fingers sliding further, collecting your juices. When you slightly wince at the overstimulation when he pushes his fingers inside, he kisses your tit, bevore gently biting your neck. „It’s okay. I know what you need.“

He keeps his fingers buried inside you, gently massaging your walls and rubbing against that sweet spot that has you seeing stars, while his other hand catches your slickness thats dribbling out of you. They move up, wedging themselves between your ass cheeks and carefully circling your other hole, wetting it slightly. 

Your brain short-circuits as you realize his intentions. Your head lulls against his shoulder, eyes closed as you huff out hot breaths against his skin. „Charles.“

„Tell me to stop and I will“, he whispers, his clothed erection rubbing against your clit. „I promise.“ 

You weakly shake your head. „Want you“, you whine, moving your hips back slightly against his hand, against his fingers. „Want all of you.“

„You have me“, he promises quietly, almost inaudibly. „You have all of me.“ 

You want to kill somebody when his alarm goes off again. 

With a defeated sigh Charles pulls his hands out of your briefs while you go and grab his phone, turning the alarm off once more. You reluctantly slide off his lap, annoyed that he actually has to get up and ready and pack his bags. 

He looks at you apologetically and kisses your cheek. „I’m sorry, mon amour. Next time“, he smiles slightly before getting up from the bed, sticking his hand in his boxers to squeeze his dick once like it’s normal for you to see that. He then grabs a few things and leaves your shared bedroom while you fall down back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Since when have you been so open to sex that you don't even mind what almost happened? When you were with Raphael, you didn't even change in front of him – not even after you had been together for a while. And now you're lying here in the bed you share with your best friend, letting him touch you and even reaching out to him when he rubbed your  –

Sighing, you grab a pillow and press it to your face.

How pathetic do you want to be? A virgin who is in love with her best friend, who certainly doesn't feel the same way about you, but with whom you still share a bed and even allow him to touch you?

There's no way you would have let Raphael touch you like that. But Charles isn't Raphael, so you push your thoughts aside.

Being with Charles feels natural, as if you were made to be by his side. It's so easy, even though somewhere inside you still have this queasy feeling that if you let it continue, it won't end well.

But how could it not end well if it feels so good?

“What are you doing?” Charles asks when he returns to the bedroom. He grabs the pillow on your face and puts it aside. He smiles down at you. "You're not trying to suffocate yourself, are you? It's just a few days that you have to get along without me," he jokes, grinning, and takes three steps back as you throw the pillow in his direction.

“You're unbelievable, “ you say and roll your eyes, but you can't suppress your own smile. You watch him pack some sports clothes into a large bag. ”Do you really not have much time to talk to me on the phone?”

Charles, who is folding two T-shirts and putting them neatly in the side of the bag, apparently hears the disappointed tone in your voice, which is why he looks at you and tilts his head to the side. “I know it's not ideal. And I wish it was different,” he begins, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He gently strokes your hair. "I hate leaving you here alone. I hate that my work takes up so much of my free time." He takes a deep breath. ”I hate that you're here waiting for me to come home.”

You take his hand and kiss the back of his hand before interlocking your fingers. The whole thing seems to be weighing on him, which is why you have to be the strong one for both of you at this moment.

You smile at him. “Don't worry. I'll ask Kika if she has time for me over the next few days. After all, I still need a nice dress for New Year's Eve and she sent me a video on Instagram of a shop where you can paint ceramics. And a restaurant where you can have a drink while you're brunching,” you explain. ”I think Pierre is at training too. And then I can help her with the party preparations.”

Your words seem to calm him a little. He presses your hand against his chest. “If you go shopping, take my credit card with you. I don't want you to spend your money when I have so much of it that I don't know what to do with it. You can also go to Maman's. Or Enzo and Charlotte. Or you –” he suggests in quick succession.

You interrupt him. “I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me,” you assure him with a smile. “And in a few days we'll see each other again and then we'll party like there's no tomorrow on New Year's Eve. What do you think?” You waggle your eyebrows a little, which makes him laugh.

He leans down to you so that your noses touch. “What did I do to deserve you?” He asks quietly and kisses your forehead before straightening up and standing up to pack the rest of his things. He squats on the floor in front of the closet, pulling out clothes that he either puts in his bag or puts back on the shelves.

Since you don't want to bother him, you quietly slip out of bed and get ready for the day, before you text Kika and ask if she would like to go dress shopping for her party today, to which she sends you a two-minute voice message telling you which websites she has already scoured and which stores you should both go to so that you definitely find the best dresses for you.

You are sitting at the kitchen counter, all ready and dressed, eating some fruit when Charles joins you. He reaches around you and grabs a piece of apple, which he slides into his mouth without saying a word, before walking around the kitchen island and making himself a cup of coffee.

“When is Andrea coming?“ you ask him, holding out another piece, which he gratefully accepts.

“He should be here any minute now,” he replies, leaning against the worktop in front of you. “By the way, I was serious when I said that you should take my card and buy yourself a nice dress for New Year's Eve.”

You sigh. “Charles, I – you know I don't feel comfortable accepting this.” Hesitantly, you take a bite of your pear.

“That's true, “ he admits and drinks the rest of his coffee before rinsing the cup in the sink. ”But you also know that I like to use my money to buy you nice things. And what better way to start the new year than with a new dress?”

With you. Naked in our bed. On top of me. Inside me. Telling me how much you love me. 

You swallow hard and immediately push the thought aside. “You better be careful, Charlie. If you keep spending so much money on me, people might think you're my sugar daddy,” you joke, but you can't miss the dark flicker in his eyes.

“Don't worry, mon amour,” he smiles, standing next to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and examining the slight love bite he left on your neck. "You can have my money. I don't need it as long as I have you," he replies quietly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “If you wear a new dress on New Year's Eve but my bank balance hasn't changed by then, we'll spend a lot less time at Kika's party than you'd like,” he warns you. The kiss he gently presses on your temple is soft and loving, in contrast to his tone of voice.

Your breath catches in your throat.

When the doorbell rings, Charles moves away from you. With long strides, he goes to the front door and presses a button so that Andrea can use the elevator. Without saying a word, you follow him into the hallway, where several bags are already waiting to be loaded into a car.

“Good morning,” Andrea greets you both with a smile. He gives you a little kiss on both cheeks before grabbing two bags. "I'm really looking forward to the training camp. This time, I've picked out a few things that are just designed to drive you mad" he grins at the Monegasque, before looking at you. “And don't even think about texting or calling him. Not that your messages would get through somehow, but I think his brain can only focus on one thing at a time and as soon as he thinks of you, I can forget about training.”

“Andrea,” Charles warns his friend sharply, as if he had just revealed one of the biggest secrets in the world.

The trainer laughs. “Don't act like that. I know exactly what's going on here. I'm not blind,” he grins and leans forward to look at you. “Nice hickey, by the way,” he says nonchalantly, turning around and leaving the apartment the way he came in.

And leaving behind two best friends who don't know what to say about it.

Charles is the first to make a sound. He clears his throat. “Um, okay. I have to go, otherwise I'll get in trouble,” he explains and stands in front of you. Hesitantly, he raises his hands and places them on your cheeks to tilt your head back a bit so you can look at him. “I'll miss you.”

You can feel his warm breath on your face, he's that close to you. “I'll miss you too. Send me photos or something when you can. I don't know exactly when you can get on your phone, but when you can – I mean –”

“I promise I'll get in touch with you. Even if it means buying a second cell phone and hiding it from Andrea,” he smiles, stroking your cheekbones with his thumb. ”I don't know how I'll last without you. And especially for several days.”

You shrug helplessly. “I don't know either,” you reply. “But after that, nothing can separate us. Then you won't get rid of me,” you dare to say, your heart beating in your throat. You turn your head and kiss his palm lovingly. “Deal?”

He leans his forehead against yours. ”Deal.”

[hangmanscoming]

Me and my x reader fics against the world

Imagine hating on me but i spend my free time maladaptive daydreaming about getting raw dogged by fictional men

[pomegranatesarchive]

show a little loving | m.list

pairing: max verstappen, oscar piastri, charles leclerc x reader

summary: life never goes as planned, and it was never more true than when you got fired from your dream job as an indycar interviewer—just for asking for what you thought was a well-deserved raise. now, with no job, a landlord who keeps jacking up your rent, and a pile of bills staring you down, you had no choice but to take the first thing that came along: a position as an journalist for formula one. great. the stuck up version of indycar.

at least you had job security—for now. but then, the last thing you expected happened. max verstappen, charles leclerc, and oscar piastri— some of the biggest names in the sport—started sticking to you like glue. suddenly, your job wasn’t just about interviewing drivers. it was about dealing with their egos, insane jealousy, dangerous on track situations, and managing the kind of attention you never signed up for.

status: ongoing

word count: tbd

tags: eventually will be poly!!! fluff, angst, comedy. lots of tension and rivalry. no smut. actual writing with some social media bits. slowish updates. races written here will not align with real life races.

authors notes: based on this smau, i did a while ago, i decided to make this a full blown series so I can dive into everything with detail

chapters

chapter 01 | out in the dark [soon]

blurbs

—

[cllightning81]

Old Married Couple [CL16]

Summary : Working in your old job for some extra cash brings up a familiar face that you didn't expect to see.

Pairing/s: Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Word Count : 5.7k (this was going to be short but I got carried away)

Masterlist

Driver Masterlist

Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

When you were asked to cover a shift at the little cafe where you used to work, who would you say no to? The owner and her daughter had become a third family to you, followed behind your actual family and childhood best friend family. 

Turning around as the door opened, you didn’t expect to be confronted with said childhood best friend. You two still spoke all the time; it was like nothing had ever changed except it had. A lot had changed. He was chasing his dreams worldwide; your older brother had started pursuing his dreams, and your dad's. He’d gotten poorly injured. 

“Y/N?” He asked, drawing you from your thoughts as you rounded the corner, almost running into his arms with a smile on your face

“You weren’t meant to be in Monaco” He frowned, and you shrugged a little 

“It got a little suffocating back home, so I decided to come back here”, you replied, wrapping your arms around him 

“And got a job here again, ice cream girl?” He teased as you pushed him away 

“They asked if I wanted extra cash as some people are ill. There’s a sickness bug going around. I would have popped in to say hello when I returned, but I thought you were in Italy!” You exclaimed, walking back behind the counter 

“I was in Italy. I just got back and decided I wanted a coffee, so here I am” He shrugged, and you turned around, taking a coffee port from the machine and knocking out the previously used grounds from the last coffee you’d made. The young girl you were working with was on her break and poked her head out to ensure it wasn’t too busy. Charles, being the only customer in the shop, you smiled at her, filling the port with ground coffee beans. 

“How’s Mick and your family?” Charles asked, and you shrugged 

“Mick’s living his dream. Gina’s having a baby girl. Dad’s dad and mum. She’s doing okay,” You replied, turning around to fill the milk jug with some milk 

“How’s your family?” You asked, motioning for him to take a seat

 “The same as the last time you asked. Which was two days ago?” He chuckled, and you shrugged, steaming the milk to make his latte. 

“Something major could have happened”, you replied with a shrug of your shoulders before pouring his now-steamed milk into the cup and taking it over to him.

“Do you want any ice cream? Cake?” You asked, and he shook his head 

“Diet says no”, he replied with a slight pout, and you laughed

“So, what are you doing with work now?” He asked, and you sighed 

“I don’t know, Cha. I’ve got this brilliant engineering degree, yet no one wants a Schumacher to work for them,” you sighed. It had always been your dream to work in the same racing team as Mick. Yet every time he got hired. You didn’t. It hurt; of course, it did, but you wouldn’t tell Mick that. 

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places”, Charles offered, and you shrugged. 

“I’ve tried non-racing teams as well” You sighed, looking around before taking the seat opposite him. 

“Mon ami. Have you tried Ferrari?” He asked. You looked at him, shaking your head. You didn’t want to be compared. 

“With Carlos leaving, some team members are leaving to join him. Lewis isn’t bringing many mechanics or engineers. Just a couple” He shrugged as the young girl walked out. 

“Y/N? I’m done with my break. You can take yours.” She smiled while walking behind the counter as she fixed her apron. 

“Thank you, Julie.” You smiled, getting up and squeezing Charles’s hand on the table. Walking into the small back of the shop, you removed your apron and grabbed your phone before walking to the front of the shop.

“Want to take a walk with me?” You asked Charles, who was happy enough to get up to pay for his coffee 

“Yeah. You know I like walks” You smiled. 

“Julie, don't charge him. I’m just going to get my lunch” You smiled as she nodded. 

“Enjoy”, you hummed, walking out of the shop next to Charles 

“How long until your shift ends?” He asked, and you looked at the clock 

“I’m having lunch late, so it's only an hour. They managed to find someone to come in early but couldn’t get someone in the morning,” You responded as you fell into pace next to him, walking to the bakery just along the street 

“I know maman would love to see you if you wanted to catch up in person together” " he offered, and you smiled, turning your head to look at that 

“I’d love that” You smiled as you entered the bakery. The scent of fresh bread fills the air, and the freshly baked cakes and pastries fill the glass cabinets in front of you, their glass shining, obviously just newly cleaned. 

You placed your order with the lovely woman behind the counter as you pulled some cash out of your pocket; however, Charles’ F1 reflexes bet you to pay 

“Cha. I can pay for my lunch” You turned to him, and he shrugged 

“You wouldn’t let me pay for my coffee” He replied

“I don’t like coffee, so you got my free on-shift coffee”, you replied with a hum, thanking the woman for your order before walking out of the shop

“Well, maybe I’m just trying to convince you to reconsider joining Ferrari. Imagine it. Me, you, travelling the world together just like you had planned. You, Max, travelling the world just like both your fathers had planned” You couldn’t help but laugh a little 

“Yeah, Red Bull didn’t want a Schumacher. Horner’s word, not mine” You huffed, and he frowned, stopping in his tracks 

“Oh, wait until I tell Max”, he muttered, and you shook your head

“Max knows. He wasn’t happy, but he got me the interview,” You replied 

“You still speak to Max?” He asked. Something flashed across his face that you couldn’t quite understand or see for long enough 

“Yeah, occasionally. He texted to check in on me and my dad, and when I mentioned I was still looking for a job, he offered to get me an interview,” you replied. Ever since your previous company went bankrupt, you have found it impossible to find a permanent job. 

“He never mentioned it”, Charles frowned, holding open the cafe door for you. Smiling at Julie, you walk over to the table and sit beside Charles again. 

“So, tell me about your life,” You replied, wanting to take the topic off yourself. 

“The season went pretty well. I’m excited about a change of scenery with teammates; however, I will miss having Carlos as my teammate. Something just tells me I won’t have that kind of relationship with Hamilton,” He replied, and you nodded along, eating your food.

“Mercedes kind of didn’t make him do media for social media, so I have a feeling I’ll be doing those alone. Which isn’t the worst, but I enjoyed being competitive with Carlos,” He added as you tilted your head a little 

“Yeah, those C-squared videos were quite good” " you replied with a smile, and he nodded.

“Who would you put in his seat if you had the choice?” You asked him, and he tilted his head a little, thinking about it as he sipped the coffee that Julie had brought 

“Arthur, probably. All drivers work hard to get to Formula One, but I’ve watched Arthur struggle to live in my shadows his whole life. Hell, even Lorenzo lives in my shadows, and he’s older. So, probably Arthur or maybe Ollie. I quite like that kid” He nodded, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little 

“You’ve adopted another driver” " you replied, and he frowned, looking up at you. 

“What? Non!” He exclaimed, and you nodded 

“I know that I avoid your invites to the paddock, but I’m not blind or deaf. The way you talk about Ollie and the way you’re always there for him. He’s your grid kid!” You exclaimed with a broad smile as Charles shook his head, attempting to deny it 

“I’ve already got Oscar!” He exclaimed, and you shrugged 

“You can have multiple kids”, you laughed, getting up to put your rubbish into the bin. Charles shook his head, saying it as you fixed something on the shelf that caught your eyes. You pulled your apron on before helping Julie with the coffee order that had just come in. 

Over the next hour, the shop was pretty quiet, which gave you time to catch up with Charles on the stuff you hadn’t said over text because it either just didn’t feel right or you didn’t want to say it on text. 

You said bye to the two staff members you’d met today before walking out with Charles. The silence was nice and comfortable as you walked through the streets of Monte Carlo to his maman’s hair salon. 

Pascale had always welcomed you into the Leclerc family, even going as far as joking that you’d probably marry one of her sons in the future. You couldn’t help but notice how well the Leclerc genes hit Arthur and Charles in just the right places. 

Eventually, Charles was the first one to speak up.

“If I could get you an interview at Ferrari, would you at least attend the interview?” He asked. You couldn’t help but sigh a little, quickly glancing at him. He was never going to give it up. Charles never gave up. 

“I’ll do the interview, but only because I know you won’t stop until I do it”, you replied, and Charles smiled, wrapping you in a hug. 

“Thank you!” He cheered before you continued walking with a laugh. You were soon on the same street as his maman’s hair salon, and he opened the door, allowing you to walk in first. Pascale looked up from her diary, standing up as quickly as Charles’ reflexes as she rounded the table. 

“Oh, Y/N, look at you!” Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into her arms before pulling back her hands resting on your face 

“Après-midi Pascale” (Afternoon) You smiled, hugging her back. When you finally pulled away, Pascale moved past you to hug her son. 

“Après-midi maman” (Afternoon) Charles smiled, kissing her cheek before ushering you to sit down.

“J'ai trouvé celui-ci dans son ancien café” (I found this one in her old cafe). Charles turned to Pascale, who raised an eyebrow before starting her conversation in French with Charles. While you could understand basic French while it was slow, it wasn’t a primary language, and they were talking too fast. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re back here. You should have texted you could have stayed over. You’re getting too skinny,” Pascale fussed, and you smiled. You weren’t home in Germany often, so saying you didn’t enjoy her fussing would be a lie. 

“I’m okay, Pascale” You smiled, holding her hand. 

“Oh, you should join us for dinner tonight. The boys are coming over” She smiled, and you smiled up at her. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, Pascale. It’s your weekly dinner” You frowned 

“Nonsense. Charles talked her into it.” She walked away to speak to the client who had just walked in, and Charles laughed, sitting beside her. 

“She’s as persistent as I am” He shrugged with a smile, pulling you into a hug. You couldn’t help but rest your head on his chest just like you used to when you were a teenager. 

“Fine. I missed your maman’s cooking anyway. Takeaways aren’t hitting the spot anymore, and I’m losing money buying them,” You replied with a huff, and Charles laughed. His chest vibrated as he did. 

“You know, if you were to dive into your savings accounts, you wouldn’t be losing money”, he replied with a shrug as you pulled away offended. Your hand on your chest 

“Charles Leclerc! How dare you suggest I touch my savings? Those are for emergencies!” You exclaimed, and he laughed 

“Get an interview with Ferrari, and you would never need to touch those savings”, he replied with a smirk as you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ve already told you I’ll do the interview. What more do you want?” You asked, tilting your head as you glanced over at Pasclae, who was talking with a customer

“For you to join us at dinner. I know Arthur and Enzo would love to see you. Arthurs bringing his new girlfriend and Enzo bringing Charlotte,” He replied 

“I’ve already said I’d do that as well. However, your maman is going to have me at every dinner now,” You replied, and he chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst decision she’d ever made.” He smiled, and you rested your head against his chest. 

Later that night, you were walking up to the Leclerc family home. It had been a while since you were last inside; however, you’d run past it almost every day on your run because it was the neighbourhood that you knew, like the back of your hand. 

You were just about to knock on the door when the door was abruptly pulled open by none other than Arthur Leclerc, who, as usual, wasn’t watching what he was doing. Before you realised the door had opened, your hand hit his face. You both gasped at the same time. 

“Scheiße! Arthur! Entschuldigung! Warum versteckst du dich hinter der Tür?” You panicked as Arthur's hand flew to his eye where you had just accidentally punched him. (Shit! Arthur! Sorry! Why are you hiding behind the door?) Charles came running out at the sound of your panicked German and almost doubled over in laughter 

“Putain!” Arthur exclaimed

“Maman, Enzo. Arthur a encore récidivé!” (Mum, Enzo. Arthur did it again!) Charles called into the house as Pascale rushed out of the kitchen, ready to fuss over her boy and give a telling-off to whoever punched him; however, when she saw you, she turned to Arthur with a disapproving look. Lorenzo slowly followed behind, clearly unfazed. 

“Quel garçon idiot. Je vous ai dit d'arrêter d'ouvrir la porte car les invités sont sur le point de frapper. Va mettre de la glace sur tes yeux.” She complained to Arthur. As Arthur retreated back into the house like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Garçon idiot et idiot" " she muttered to no one in particular as Charles looked at Enzo before they both started laughing again (What a silly boy. I told you to stop pulling the door open as guests are about to knock. Go put some ice on your eye. Silly silly boy)

“Désolé Pascale”, You whispered, looking at the older woman who turned to look at you with a soft look (Sorry) 

“That was Arthur’s fault. He thinks it’s funny. He’s learned his lesson this time. Now, why you were going to knock in the first place is beyond me” She shook her head disapprovingly, and you quickly came up with an excuse. 

“I was just going to use it to announce my presence. In case you were talking about me,” You joked, and Pascale laughed, ushering you into the house. Charles pulled you into his arms, kissing your cheeks before Lorenzo did the same thing. 

“It’s good to see you, Y/N” He smiled before walking back into the house to his fiance as you looked at Charles, who started laughing again. 

“Oh, your face” He laughed as you shook your head, pushing him out of the way.

“Enfant préféré” (Favourite Child), Arthur muttered as he walked past you and Charles. You both looked at each other before laughing again. Pascale had a soft spot for you, and if that weren’t shown in her reaction to that incident, you wouldn’t know what would show it. 

Arthur’s new girlfriend walked out of the living room to see what was happening and possibly what her boyfriend was complaining about. You smiled over as Charles took his time to speak up. 

“Ah, Jade. This is Y/N. She’s one of my best friends. Well, I think maman adopted her when we were about nine” He shrugged, and you waved in her direction. 

“Nice to meet you” You smiled. 

“You too. What’s ‘Thur shouting about?” She asked as Charles started laughing all over again. For something so simple, he was easily amused. 

“Oh, I went to knock on the door, and he pulled it open with his head right where I was about to knock”, Jade giggled to herself as she nodded. 

“I’ll go find him” " she giggled, walking into the depths of the house as you followed Charles into the living room. Pascale still had all her favourite photos decorating the house, with a few extra ones added. The one that took pride in the middle of the mantle piece? One of you and Charles smiling at each other on the couch as Arthur slept over both of your legs. You stopped and looked at for a moment before Charles turned to look at you. 

“He hates that picture. Maman loves it. She says it shows our siblingly bond.” He chuckled, resting his arm around your shoulder and talking you through the newer pictures that had been added. 

Within the hour of being at the Leclerc household, it was like you had never left it in the first place. Like you’d been at every family dinner since you went to University and left Monaco to join your family back in Germany. 

Despite the incident with her boyfriend, you and Jade seemed to be getting along well, even if Arthur was still annoyed at the whole incident. Mama Leclerc wasn’t about to let you take the blame for that. 

Your head rested on your hand as you spoke to Charles after almost begging Pascale to let you help her with desserts; however, she refused each time. 

“You should come out with me tomorrow night”, Charles declared as you tilted your head, waiting for more information about this night out. However, he didn’t continue, causing you to roll your eyes slightly.  

“More information, Leclerc” " you prodded, and he hummed before nodding 

“Right, yeah. Some of the grid is going out tomorrow night just to the restaurant, but we wanted to get to know the rookies because some of them have just been thrown in at the deep end, like Ollie,” He finally continued as you nodded along with his words before sitting up straight 

“Does that mean I get to meet your sons?” You asked with a large smile, and he nodded slightly 

“Yeah, I guess so” You smiled, clapping your hands a little 

“I’ll be there then” You hummed. 

Later that night, you were still in the Leclerc household, cuddled into Charles’ side as you watched a movie.

That next night, you weren’t expecting Charles to pick you up in his Ferrari; however, you walked outside the hotel room you were renting for the moment, meeting him at the front. He’d said the dress code was casual, but as always, you felt underdressed next to the Ferrari driver. 

“You ready?” The Ferrari driver smiled, and you nodded, checking everything in your bag: phone, keycard, purse, random bits and bobs. 

“I think so” You hummed and nodded while walking out to the car with you. He couldn’t have been the more perfect gentleman, and you were beginning to think he’d tricked you into a date. He opened the car door for you, helped you with your seatbelt, and even helped you out of the car when you arrived. 

Walking into the restaurant beside him, you were happy to see the other drivers sitting around the table, including some of the rookies, which there was a lot of this year compared to previous years just past. Charles pulled out a seat for you, allowing you to sit down, and you smiled politely at him. 

One seat remained, and you looked around the table, attempting to figure out who would still arrive. Charles leaned over his arm on the back of your chair to steady himself. 

“This is a whole plan. George is the last one to arrive, hence how there's a seat left next to Max,” He whispered with a smirk, and you turned to him with a slight laugh. 

“So you invited me along for World War Three?” You whispered back, turning your head to him, to which he nodded happily 

“I knew you’d want to watch the drama” He chuckled, and you laughed before Charles leaned back a little 

“Ollie?” He asked, and the boy, two seats down, turned around to look at you both. The boy you believed couldn’t be old enough to drive in Formula One also turned around. Two for one, you chuckled to yourself.

“Y/N, this is Ollie. Ollie, this is my childhood best friend, Y/N” He introduced you both, and you smiled at the young boy. 

“Nice to meet you, Ollie. Charles talks about you a lot” You smiled, pleased you finally got to meet one of his grid kids. 

“Oh my god”, Ollie whispered as the other boy sitting next to you just saw with his mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t help but have a little laugh to yourself. 

“Oh, and Y/N, this is Kimi. He’s driving for Mercedes this year” He motioned to the other boy, and you smiled. 

“Nice to meet you as well, Kimi” Kimi looked like he was gonna faint, and you could hear Charles sniggering behind you. 

“You’re like-” Kimi was cut off by a nudge in the ribs from Ollie, who had previously received one from Liam Lawson, who sat beside him. 

“Hey, Y/N” He waved down the table, and you waved back, turning to Charles. 

“You broke them”, you whispered harshly to him, to which he just shrugged in return, watching as everyone's heads slowly turned as George walked in. You bit your lip, waiting for his reaction to the only seat. To everyone’s surprise, after Max said the seat was available, he picked it up and moved it. Hiding your mouth behind your hand, you quietly laughed, noticing the Haas and Mercedes drivers beside you doing the same thing. 

Charles nudged your leg with his foot, and you turned to look at him with a smile, to which he nudged his head in the other direction of the table, which had you turning around to see what he was on about just to see the Red Bull driver attempting to start a conversation with the Mercedes driver. 

The disagreement was one-sided as Max attempted to clear the air between them. Still, you could also clearly see that George wasn’t interested in listening to what Max had to say, and on the following media day, George would be starting rumours. 

Throughout the night, you got to know the two rookies sitting beside you, and you couldn’t lie. You had taken a liking to them. You now understand why Charles was so supportive and why he was always worried about Oliver. You had a feeling that maybe if you got the job at Ferrari, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Two months later, you’d gone to the job interview with Ferrari mainly for Charles’ sake because you could see that he was getting annoyed with you sleeping in a hotel and not accepting his invitation to stay in his spare bedroom. 

Now, here you were, walking into the Bahrain paddock with Charles at your side, laughing about something he’d just done that shouldn’t have been as funny as it was. You’d accepted the job because the thought of sitting at home any longer stressed you out because, to start with, it wasn’t home, and you were getting bored. 

You’d grown closer to Charles over the past three months, even joining him and some of your shared friends on a skiing trip meant to help him “train”. You just believed it was a pilot thing because whenever you opened Instagram, there was another F1 pilot skiing or snowboarding somewhere. 

“Are you feeling ready?” Charles asked, and you just smiled thinking about it 

“Yeah. I think this is where my dad wants me to be. Even if Mickey isn’t in the paddock anymore, it was our dream” Charles pulled you into his side as you walked. 

“Michael would want you to be here, and you already know that Mick wants you here” He smiled, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re right” You stood up a little taller. 

“That’s it, ice cream girl”, He joked, and you pushed him away with a laugh.

“You know I always thought you’d end up with Arthur”, He hummed, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” You asked with a laugh 

“It just always looked like you two had a thing for each other. I got slightly jealous at one point,” He confessed, leading you into the hospitality with a hand on the small of your back. 

“You’re joking, right?” You asked, and he shook his head. You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Fred. You couldn’t tell your new boss to fuck off for a moment so you could continue this conversation, so you left them alone and went to make acquaintance with some of the other mechanics. 

An hour later, you were standing outside the Ferrari garage when Oliver walked by, looking stressed. You frown, pushing yourself off the wall and walking over. 

“Ollie”, You called out slightly. 

“Oh, Y/N. Hi” He smiled slightly; however, you could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” You questioned gently 

“My dad was meant to come out for testing, but Thomas has this major competition where he needs a parent to go with him, and you know I’m nineteen. I don’t need a parent,” He informed, and you frowned, opening your arms to take him into your embrace. 

“Everyone needs their parents. What about your mum?” You asked, and he shook his head, and you instantly regretted asking

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise,” You rambled, and he shook his head again with a laugh, moving his head from the crook of your neck. 

“No, it’s not like that” He giggled a little as you breathed.

“Every time she’s come to a race, it’s like she’s bad luck, so she doesn’t come any more,” He explained, and you nodded in understanding. 

“Well, Ferrari might not be exactly happy if I join you in the Haas garage; however, I will be in the Ferrari garage if you need some support. If you need some support regarding the car or driving, Charles will be more than happy to help you if he can,” You assure him, and he nods, pulling out of your arms. 

“Thank you. That helped a little,” He mumbles, and you nod 

“I might not be your mum or dad, but if you or Kimi need anything, I’ll always be willing to help if I can” You smiled, and he nodded 

“Thank you. I’ll tell him because he’s scared of you,” He confessed, and you chuckled 

“I’m not scary. I get my surname makes people scared, though” He nodded 

“He doesn’t want to say anything wrong even though he’s worked with Mick for years.” He laughed, and you could see that it was a genuine laugh. He wasn’t as stressed as he was when you started this conversation. 

“I’m better looking than Mick and Gina, though” You joked, and he laughed. You turned your head as your name was called.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” You smiled while walking over to the group of mechanics who were discussing. 

About an hour later, Charles was walking along to hospitality with you, and he bumped your shoulder with his own 

“And you talk about me having grid kids. It’s your first day here, and you’ve already got two” He chuckled, and you looked at him. 

“What, no, I don’t.” You frowned, and he nudged his head towards Andrea and Oliver, sitting outside the Ferrari hospitality. 

“It’s not my fault my motherly instincts kicked in! They’re just kids!” You exclaimed, and he nodded 

“I know they are. It’s a brutal world here as well” You sighed with a nod. You’d seen it from your side when Mick was going through it. You never really got to see your dad's race in person, and it’s something you wish you could change, but you can’t change your age.

“I think we need to talk tonight” You started looking up at him as you walked, to which he nodded. 

“I think so, too” He nodded with a smile. You separated from him, walking over to the young drivers. 

“You two are quite far from your garages and hospitalities”, you joked, and Ollie looked up with a smile. 

“Y/N!” He smiled, almost jumping out of his seat from seeing you

“Kimi and I were wondering if you’d be free tomorrow after testing.” You raised an eyebrow while looking between the two rookies.

“It’s not for anything bad!” Kimi adds, looking up at you

“We were joining some of the grid for drinks after testing and were kind of scared”, He whispered, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there, but you know there's nothing to fear. Most drivers are lovely, but I can give you insight on who to avoid when there’s alcohol on the go.” You winked while sitting down next to them to give them the gossip. 

Later that night, you cuddled Charles in his hotel bed with your head on his shoulder.

“I think we should talk about earlier before Fred interrupted”, you whispered, and he nodded slightly. Shifting so that he could see your face 

“Yeah, I think I confessed something I shouldn’t have?” He whispered, and you giggled a little 

“Want to repeat that confession?” You asked, and he frowned 

“Not really, non” He shook his head, and you couldn’t help but pout slightly

“Okay, fine. I said I got jealous when I thought you and Arthur liked each other” He sighed as you rested your chin on his chest. 

“And why would that be?” You asked with a slight smirk, and he pushed you away jokingly and with an eye roll. 

“Maybe because I also liked you?” He confessed in a whisper, and your eyes widened, not expecting him to admit that. 

“What?” You asked quietly, and he looked out the window 

“Don’t worry about it. I won’t let it change anything between us. It never has, and it never will” He shrugged, and you pushed yourself so you were sitting up next to him. Your hand reaches out to hold his jaw and turn his head to face you. Charles’ eyes avoided your own as you leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips. 

It took him a moment before he finally kissed you back; your hand dropped from his jaw to his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. After a few moments, you had to pull away, your forehead resting against the Ferrari driver. 

“I don’t have the same lung capacity as you”, you joked, allowing your breathing to calm down as he laughed a little. 

“Now, if I knew that all I had to do was confess that I was jealous, I would have done it a long time ago” He smiled, and you hummed, laying your head on his chest again. 

“We had kids before we even got together”, you joked, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, that is only a few years off our actual age” You shrugged in response, looking up at him as you kissed his jaw. Charles pulled you closer to his side.

When you and Charles finally returned to Monaco, you both decided to tell Pascale. Needless to say, the older woman was more than ecstatic about the situation, her dreams finally coming true for her son and now her daughter-in-law (well, almost. She didn’t care, though) 

Pascale had decided it was a reason to celebrate, so now you, Mick and the Leclerc family were out at a fancy restaurant she had picked. Charles’ warm hand was settled on your knee as he spoke to his brothers, and you talked to your own with your hand rested over his. 

“I wish Gina could have flown out for this. She would have loved to see you two” Mick smiled, a teasing tone hidden in his voice. 

“I wish she were here as well, but she’s giving us a niece, so can’t complain”, you replied with a slight shrug. 

“Your turn next,” Mick teased, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“You and Laila have been together a lot longer than we have”, you replied 

“Yeah, but you two have been friends since we started karting. You lived with him for some time. You’re basically a married couple.” He argued, and you shook your head 

“You and Laila are a married couple!” You exclaimed 

“Den Mund halten! Wir sind noch nicht verheiratet! Versuchen Sie, niemandem zu erzählen, dass der Verlobungsring in meiner Schublade liegt, oder?” He exclaimed (Shut up! We're not married yet! Try not to tell anyone the engagement ring is in my drawer. Will you?) as Charles turned his head to look at you both 

“Everything okay?” Charles asked 

“Mick’s just getting a little excited.” You smiled, pressing a kiss on his lips, to which he nodded, content with the answer. 

Later that night, you and Charles were cuddled in his bed. His hands threaded through your hair as one of your hands rested on his chest. 

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine, mon amour” He smiled, pressing a kiss into your hair as you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Well, you better believe it because you’re stuck with me twenty-four seven Schatz.” You hummed, kissing his jaw as your hand moved from his chest to his face, cupping his face. 

“To think that we started off racing together, and look at us now” He rested his head back on his pillow as you watched his face turn into his thinking face. After a moment, you spoke up. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly 

“Just our journey getting to this point in life” He smiled 

“We did follow the best friends to lover troupe”, you joked, and he looked at you with a frown 

“The what?” He asked 

“Don’t worry about it, Schatz” You smiled 

Tag List

@thewannabewriter , @lozzamez3 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @hiireadstuff , @mxdi0 , @f1kenzzz , @evie-119 , @ahgase99 , @velocesainz , @talksoprettyjjx , @scarletwidow3000 , @thegrapejuiceblues1982 , @jasons-little-princess , @tellybearryyyy

@zabwlky1999 , @callsignwidow , @chocolatepoetryfun , @lwstuff ,

@destinyg237 , @glitzyditsy , @sltwins , @myloverjk , @rqlstefanny , @alex-wotton , @tpwkstiles , @maymustdie , @formula1-motogpfan , @genuisalpaca (i love this username btw :) ) , @sophiacalabrese , @alice-went-away , @luvr4miya , @norstappenvibes , @somerandomf1fan (beautiful profile picture) , @teti-menchon0604 , @themazerunnerobsession

[lovewithmary]

loving hearts (and growing homes), max verstappen & charles leclerc — one

an f1 x mcu crossover

★ fc: madison beer ☆ pairing: stark!oc x max verstappen (current), poly!max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc (future) ★ summary: evangeline "evie" stark has been the subject of headlines even before she was born, subjecting her to much scrutiny over the years. ever since she became a teenager, the media has always speculated on who she was dating, whether it be her long-time best friend/colleague peter parker, or fellow billionaire's child, harry osborn, or whoever they can connect evie with. frankly, it was a little disparaging considering that she's been in a relationship with one max verstappen since they were 15. however, once their relationship has been revealed, will their relationship stay the same, or does a certain monegasque ferrari driver have something to say about it? (spoiler alert: charles wants both of them, not just one) ☆ notes: to those of you who are familiar with my work, this is a reboot of one of my old series, (not) moving on. however, this series is not going to be like (not) moving on, as i've changed a lot of things about the series and what's coming up. so i hope you guys enjoy it!

( 1997, 2004, 2009 ) ( pictures are in chronological order )

( 2012 )

Evie's phone buzzed, removing her attention from what she was working on to grab her phone quickly. She smiled at the sight of Max's text and texted back.

"Is that lover boy texting you? Do I have to revoke your phone privileges or can you refrain from making puppy dog eyes at it?" Tony teased his daughter, fully knowing what was taking her attention.

Evie looked up to see that both her dad and Peter were looking at her. Her dad with the smug look he always made when he had caught her doing something, and Peter with a clueless expression, looking like he didn't have any idea what the conversation was.

She rolled her eyes, sending a response to Max's text before putting her phone down. "I was not making puppy dog eyes. And for your information, it was Max," she said, going back to her laptop.

"Lover boy, Max, same person," Tony remarked.

"Who's Max?" Peter asked.

"Max is..." Evie trailed off, not knowing if Peter was even allowed to know.

Despite her and Max getting together only recently, they had readily agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Not because they were ashamed of it, never because of that (if it had been Max's choice, he would've told everyone he knew he was dating the Evie Stark, future CEO of Stark Industries) (and Evie would've been telling everyone she was dating the Max Verstappen, future F1 WDC).

It was because of the media, for the most part. They both knew how vicious news outlets and gossip columns were, considering they had a few stories come out about them and they didn't even do anything. Evie was familiar with being rumored to be in a relationship with every billionaire son who was in a close age range with her, so she had her fair share of rumors.

"Just tell the kid, he might be here for long enough to meet Max anyways," Tony shrugged.

Evie turned to Peter and said, "Whatever I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room,"

Peter quickly nodded and said, "I won't tell anyone,"

"I have a boyfriend," Evie said.

Peter blinked. "That's it?"

"Okay, I am so not loving the enthusiasm right now," she said.

"I mean, everyone gets boyfriends," Peter shrugged.

"I missed it when you were scared of me and thought I was going to terrorize you," Evie sighed.

"The rumors called you scary! I thought if I looked at you wrong, you were gonna yell at me!" Peter defended.

Evie rolled her eyes and said, "The only reason why I don't want a lot of people knowing is because he's a driver,"

"So what, he drives? I don't have my license yet but that's only 'cause we're in New York and who drives in New York besides Taxi Drivers and Business Men?"

Evie already felt a headache forming. "Not just a driver, a race car driver,"

"Like Dom Toretto? Is that why you're hiding your relationship, because he's older and illegally drives cars? Is he bald too?"

"What—no, Peter, I am dating someone that's our age and drives cars professionally and in no way illegal. And not bald!"

"Oh, who is he? Maybe I know him,"

"His name is Max Verstappen and I highly doubt you know him,"

"Verstappen? Isn't he that driver guy that drove for F1 and Mr Stark talked to him once?"

"Ha, I want you to refer to Jos as 'that driver guy' and see how he reacts," Tony cackled.

"It's not Jos, it's his son. And don't say that ever again, I do not want that insinuation in my mind," Evie gagged.

"Did you guys meet when Mr Stark's nearly died in Monaco?" Peter questioned, the relationship piquing his interest.

It wasn't every day you'd be able to hear the relationship details from someone as well-known as Evie Stark, especially since she had made him swear he wouldn't say anything. Also since a driver wasn't someone he expected Evie to be interested in. Peter thought that she would be dating a billionaire's son or the son of a superhero.

"We met when we were kids, actually. His dad knew mine, and I'm pretty sure Jos was trying to get on Dad's good side using me. But now I'm dating his son and he can't get rid of me so that backfired on him since he and Dad just bicker all the time whenever they see each other," she told him.

"You don't like him, Mr Stark?"

"More like I don't like how he treats his son sometimes, but that's neither here nor there. I just try to make sure the kid gets to be a kid with Evie sometimes," Tony said.

Peter was about to ask one more question, but Evie's phone started to buzz incessantly, indicating someone was calling her.

And based on how Evie's eyes lit up and how she smiled, Peter could only guess that it was Max. "Can I..." Evie trailed off, looking at her dad.

Tony rolled his eyes and said, "Go,"

Evie stood up from her chair and gave a brief hug to Tony and a wave to Peter then said, "Talk to you guys later!"

( 2016 )

"You don't have to watch every race. The time difference is too much, especially here in Spain and you're in New York," Max spoke into the phone.

"Nonsense, if I don't watch every race, then I can't say that I'm the biggest Max Verstappen fan since day one, can I?" Evie replied.

Max smiled at that. Despite Evie regularly insisting she was the original Max Verstappen fan, he still couldn't get used to how much faith she had in him. At this point, it had been 4 to 5 years since he had asked her to be his girlfriend, and she still was so confident in his abilities to reach F1 that he had actually managed to achieve it.

Being together this long was impressive, especially since they were still young and long distance for the most part due to Max's career. But both of them were willing to make it work and put in the effort that was needed to keep the relationship strong. Like daily phone calls and text messages throughout the day helped them.

"Besides, I was already awake so I might as well stay up for a little longer to watch your race," Evie casually said, but Max knew better.

"Did you stay up late again? You know how messed up your sleep schedule is," he lightly scolded her.

Evie had a habit of staying up to work on projects, which she got from Tony. From what he knew, she mainly worked on her dad's Iron Man suits and Peter's Spider-Man suit. There were many sleepless nights Max had spent with Evie when he was over in New York, trying to convince Evie to go to sleep. Most of the time it worked, but other times, he resigned himself to staying up with Evie so she had someone to be with, even if she was focused on her project and wasn't very talkative.

"I'll go to sleep right after your race, promise," she said to appease him, which it kind of did (he would've preferred she sleeps now but he'll take what he can get).

"You wouldn't even miss anything, I probably won't even finish the race again with my luck," Max sighed.

He heard rustling from the other side and Max could just tell that Evie had sat up indignantly, ready to scold him. "Max, you can't say that!" she said, sounding angry at him on his behalf.

"Look, Schat, I'm just being realistic. It's a miracle if I even finish a race," he told her.

"That's not very future World Champion of you,"

"World Champions would finish races," he countered.

"Maxie, you're not gonna win anything—"

"Well, thanks for the words of encouragement,"

"If you let me finish, smartass, you'll hear me say you aren't gonna win anything with that mindset. And do you think that every World Champion is going to win automatically? It's a process, and you'll get better with time,"

"And how do you know?"

"Because you're Max Verstappen, and when you have your first WDC, I'll be the one beside you to tell you I told you so, and this time I'll be the Trophy Girlfriend," Evie teased.

( 2021 )

sinews has tweeted!

───

f1 has tweeted!

───

f1gossip has posted on instagram!

29402 likes

f1gossip: Max Verstappen seen with mystery woman 👀👀

view the comments

user1: all these angles and you guys couldn’t even get her face??

user2: even dispatch could’ve gotten her face come on guys

user3: HE GETS BITCHES???

user4: all these years we thought he was bitchless, he just knew how to hide it from us

view all comments

───

eviestark has posted on instagram!

liked by tonystark, peterparker, pepperpotts, and 9914509 others

eviestark: my world champion <3

i don't want to say i told you so but... i told you so

ive been in love with you ever since we were 15 and knew you'd become an f1 wdc for even longer than that.

happy 9-year anniversary and congrats to your first wdc (and many more to come)!

tagged: maxverstappen

view all comments

maxverstappen: I love you schatje ❤︎ by eviestark and 56733 others

───

[themultifanshipper]

Hi there! I just found your blog and I’ve been binge reading everything 😅 it’s soooo good!

Could I request a Charlos x pregnant!reader threesome fic? Maybe she’s about 5 months along and insatiably horny lol 🫣 and at some point Charles eats her out while she cockwarms Carlos and they just tease her a lot and overstimulate her. Thanks!!❤️

Charles and Carlos categorically refused to fuck you, because they were terrified (bless them) of somehow harming the baby.  

This lasted almost five whole months before they cracked. 

Warnings: smut, fluff, cock warming, oral, face sitting, mention of sex-tapes, anal (mxm) bottom carlos, top charles, some pregnancy jargon cus I added a load of fluffy plot, not proofread

You were coming up to your 18 week check up, and despite the doctor telling you that sex was fine as long as it wasn’t too rough or exhausting, they were adamant. Paranoid even. 

No sex until after the baby comes. You were spiteful, and assured them they wouldn’t last nine months, and they were stubborn, countering with the fact that they could get each other off if they got needy. 

So that’s how it went, when you were out, they’d fuck.  

And you thought it was only fair that when you were alone in the house, you got to have some fun on your own. 

That system worked perfectly well for four months. 

Carlos had come back early and found you like that, spread out and exposed on the couch. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your fingers pumping in and out of you obscenely. 

That is, until Carlos accidentally walked in on you one day, getting off to something on your phone while they were supposed to be out on errands. 

You didn’t even care at this point, you just looked at him meanly and said something along the lines of “Well how am I supposed to get off if you and Charles refuse to do it, hmm?” 

So he leaned against the doorframe and watched you, with a sly smirk. If you’d been doing this the whole time, then maybe it wasn’t harmful after all. 

He watched you writhe in pleasure, back arching and fingers rubbing harsh circles on your clit as you reached your peak. 

“Want to know what I was watching?” your devilish smile drew him in, he was intrigued for sure. 

Carlos had to admit, it was intoxicating. 

He knew what it was as soon as he caught a glimpse of the screen. He groaned and rolled his eyes, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“Our sex tape? You are going to kill me, amor” he smiled, giving you a sweet peck on the cheek as you giggled. 

“I’m barely half way through you know...” you purred, leaning into him “Do you want to watch the rest with me?” 

He bit his lip, thinking about the rest of the video and how he riled up he knew would get if he did watch it with you. 

“Okay, but I want you on my lap and my cock inside you, no moving” 

Your breath hitched, surprised that he gave in so quickly, and you quickly got into position. The feeling of his cock sliding into you for the first time in nearly five months was insane. You whimpered, leaning your head back on his shoulder as you slumped into his chest. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s watch it.” he teased, fingers running along your inner thighs and teasing your folds “or are you too distracted now?” 

You could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. 

That’s how Charles found you. 

You grabbed your phone and clenched purposefully around him, making him grunt. “We’ll see who’s fucking distracted...” 

You’d managed to connect your phone to the TV, and it was playing a different sex-tape to the one before. This one was on Charles’ yacht and he recognised the noises instantly all the way down the hall, which led him to almost trip up in his haste to get to the source of the sound. 

That’s when he saw you, writhing on Carlos’s cock while the older man played with your clit lazily. 

“Well this is a surprise” he laughed “what is the occasion?” 

“Our girl was feeling needy” Carlos responded smoothly, “I caught her watching our tapes. We seem to have been neglecting her” 

Charles came over to you, kneeling between your legs and batted Carlos' hand away. 

“Well we'd better make it up to you” he muttered breathlessly, looking up at you with that infuriating smirk. 

He leaned in and licked over the base of Carlos' cock, up to your clit and you let out a choked moan. 

“So sensitive” he swirled his tongue around your clit teasingly and Carlos tensed when he felt you flutter around him. 

“I think she's close, Charles” he gasped. 

Charles could hear the strain in his voice, and he didn't blame him. 

His cock was buried in your cunt after being denied it for months, so it was understandable that he would be just as much on edge as you were. 

So Charles took it upon himself to make you both come with his mouth. 

And he knew exactly how to unravel you both. 

He focused on you first, getting you right to the edge, tightening around Carlos as he squirmed under you. 

He then went lower, flattening his tongue to stimulate Carlos' cock before running it over the older man's balls. 

That got a reaction out of him. 

His hips jolted as he moaned, tightening his hold on your hips and that made you whimper and buck your own. 

The two of you were so sensitive it only took a few more passes of his tongue before you were coming around Carlos, and while you milked him, Charles sucked a finger into his mouth and slipped it into Carlos' exposed hole. 

The pornographic moans coming from both you and Carlos were music to his ears as he carried on until you were trembling in overstimulation. 

He got to two fingers inside Carlos before the older man had regained enough brain cells to ask him what he was doing. 

“You are going to clean your cum out of her, while I come inside you” he declared nonchalantly. 

“Charles…” you panted “I don't know if I can do another one” 

He chuckled “Of course you can, Carlos needs to make up for the last few months” 

He pulled his fingers out and helped you reposition yourselves, with Carlos laying down and you hovering over his face, his cum already dripping down your thighs. 

Carlos wasted no time devouring you, and given that you were facing Charles, you could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared right at you while thrusting into Carlos. 

You leaned in to kiss him, and it quickly turned sloppy when he lost himself in feeling of Carlos clenching around him. 

You whined in overstimulation as you approached your third orgasm, and you reached up to pull Charles' head back by his hair roughly. 

You could see the arousal in his expression as he growled at the rough treatment (that you knew he loved). 

“Fuck him harder” you muttered against his lips and he smirked before slamming into Carlos even harder than before. 

The older man groaned between your thighs, the vibration getting you even closer, so you glanced down at his leaking cock, and took it into your hand to help him along. 

It didn't take long for any of you to come. 

Later, while you all cuddled in bed after a nice long shower, Carlos stroked your growing belly and asked “When is your next check up?” 

You hadn't been in this kind of situation for months and you realised you had missed it more than you thought as you all groaned and moaned into each other as the waves of your respective highs crashed over you. 

You squeezed his hand and giggled at Charles's face, which was squished into the pillows next to you while he snored gently. 

“In a few days, why?” 

Early on in the pregnancy they announced that they didn’t want to know the sex of the baby. Which was fine. 

But you did. So you just agreed with them that you would always go alone, or at least until you weren’t able to do so anymore. 

“Just wondering” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your cheek “Will you finally get to know what the baby will be?” 

You bit your lip nervously. 

A little secret had been eating away at you for some time now. 

You didn't know the sex yet, because at your last check up the doctor couldn't tell yet. 

But what they could tell, and what you had known for a while, was that there was more than one baby inside you. 

You were having twins. 

And with all three of you having busy schedules, you'd never really found the time or energy to sit them down and tell them about it. 

But after this check up, it was time. You could always bullshit and say that you didn't know before, given that they'd never been with you and they probably didn't know much about pregnancy dates anyway. 

“Yeah, I will. Do you want me to tell you, then?” 

“No… I want it to be a surprise” 

You huffed out a giggle.  

Yeah… he was going to get a surprise on Friday no matter what. 

Friday came, and the sex was revealed. 

… 

Or rather… sexes. 

You cried (of happiness) when the doctor told you. You already knew you were having fraternal twins, but… 

A boy and a girl. You were elated. 

And as if that wasn't enough news. There was something else. 

The doctor told you about something called heteropaternal superfecundation. 

It all sounded greek to you, but apparently with fraternal twins, it was possible for them to have two different fathers. 

The doctor knew about your… relationship situation, and told you it was rare, but possible, and that you might like to know and maybe tell Charles and Carlos about it. 

You were so excited, you rushed home and waited. You sat on the couch patiently and sent a text in your three-way group chat. 

“I have some (good) news for you when you get home” 

Charles got home first, and sat down next to you, leg bouncing as he tried to contain his excitement. 

“Do you know the sex?” 

“Yup” you teased. 

“And that's not the big news?” 

“Nope” you took a sip of water. 

Carlos arrived, slightly less excited because he was confused about your message. 

“How can you have news that's not the sex? Is something wrong with the baby?” 

You shushed him before he could go any further, and beckoned him over to sit next to Charles on the couch. 

“That's the first piece of news” you started calmly “There's nothing wrong with the baby, but… it's not a baby. It's two babies” 

Their jaws dropped and they screeched. 

“TWINS?”  

“OH MY GOD”  

“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?!” 

“WE ARE HAVING FUCKING TWINS?!” 

“TWO BABIES!!!” 

You laughed as they jumped off the couch to hug you tightly. 

“But what's the second piece of news?” Charles asked once they had calmed down a bit. 

“Well… first of all, they are fraternal twins. So there's that”  

They blinked and you giggled at their clueless expressions. 

“You know, like they're not real twins. Not identical” 

They nodded slowly. You could feel the tension as they waited for your next sentence. 

“Which means there is a tiny, miniscule chance…” 

Charles eyes widened a fraction as he understood what you were about to say. 

“That they could be from different fathers” 

Carlos gasped. 

Charles just slumped backwards on the couch in shock. 

They were at a loss for words. 

You took a deep breath. 

“Charles, Carlos. Do you want to know the sex?” 

You knew Charles did, but was holding back because Carlos thought it was bad luck to know before the birth. 

But you'd softened them up with the previous news so Charles caved immediately, and Carlos took a minute to mull it over before the excitement got to him, and he agreed. 

You took their hands in yours and smiled at them, biting your lip in excitement. 

“It's a boy and a girl” you rushed out and they both started screaming again with tears in their eyes. 

They jumped up and started hugging as they bounced around the room, yelling in excitement. 

You watched them, giggling at their antics as they essentially got the zoomies for 5 good minutes before you could get another word in. 

A few years later, you thought back to that night, and the reaction that the two men had had. The pure joy and excitement.

… 

You were at the beach during summer break, having a cocktail on a sun lounger while the kids played in the water, supervised by their dads. 

After a while you called them over for a snack, and watched as each of your boyfriends picked up a child and carried them over. 

Even during the pregnancy, you knew in your heart that you were carrying both of their kids even though it couldn’t be confirmed at the time. 

But now as you looked at them it was painfully obvious. 

In Charles' arms was a little boy, with tanned skin and deep brown eyes, that always giggled at all of his dad's silly jokes. 

You'd carried them in your womb for nine months, making you suffer, and they turned out to be the spitting images of their fucking fathers. 

And in Carlos' arms, a little girl with lighter hair, and the most beautiful ocean eyes you'd ever seen. 

[eu-nicola]

Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc

summary: a remake of mr and mrs smith (from a request)

warnings: mentions of weapons and other things

word counter: 4115

author's note: english is not my first language

The murmur of the cameras and the dazzling lights felt like a constant buzzing in your ears. You wore a perfectly tailored black dress, its design elegantly embracing your curves, while your hair fell in soft waves over your shoulders. Charles, impeccable in his custom-made tuxedo, held your hand with the same grace. To everyone’s eyes, you were the perfect couple: he, Ferrari’s star driver; you, the woman who shone on every red carpet.  

That night’s charity gala was one of the most important of the year. You were in Monaco, at the Opera House, surrounded by high-society figures, billionaire entrepreneurs, and fellow drivers. Your lips curved into a flawless smile as you answered a journalist’s questions.  

“You two look more in love than ever,” commented the reporter from a prestigious lifestyle magazine.  

“We’ve always been a great team,” you replied sweetly, intertwining your fingers with Charles’s. He looked at you with that mix of adoration and confidence that he had perfected, his jaw relaxed but his eyes sharp.  

But behind all that spectacle, there was a subtext that only you and Charles understood. You knew his thoughts weren’t on the flashes or the trivial conversations with other guests. His mind was analyzing, observing. Just as yours was.  

As Charles stepped away for a moment to greet a sponsor, you excused yourself with an elegant nod and walked toward the bar. You ordered a glass of red wine and leaned lightly against the counter, discreetly surveying the room. Among the attendees, you recognized a familiar face someone who didn’t belong in this world.  

‘A client’, you thought.  

Your ears caught a coded phrase, spoken softly by a man walking past you. You pretended to adjust the bracelet on your wrist as you mentally connected to the information you had been given. Your mission was clear: gather intel on that man before the night was over.  

Charles reappeared beside you within minutes, placing a hand on your waist. His touch seemed casual, even affectionate, but you felt the subtle pressure of his thumb a signal. He had also identified someone.  

“Are you all right, mon amour?” he asked, with that charming smile that could melt anyone.  

“Of course,” you replied, meeting his gaze with knowing complicity.  

The gala continued as usual, with speeches, auctions, and live music. However, you and Charles operated on a completely different level than the other guests. While conversing with people, every word you spoke and every gesture you made was carefully calculated. Between you, words weren’t necessary to coordinate.  

At some point in the night, you found yourself walking toward an empty terrace to get some fresh air. As soon as you closed the doors behind you, a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.  

“The target is on the move,” Charles murmured, already there, waiting for you.  

You turned to him, surprised by his speed.  

“I saw him speaking with an unknown contact near the stairs,” he added, adjusting his watch.  

“Then it’s now or never” you said, your eyes locking onto his.  

Charles took a step toward you, closing the distance with that unwavering confidence he always carried.  

“Be careful” he whispered, running a hand along your cheek as if it were a romantic gesture.  

“You too” you murmured, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a brief but tension filled kiss.  

Without another word, you both parted and blended back into the crowd, each following your target.  

The night continued with wine glasses, studied smiles, and trivial conversations. Amid all the luxury and false compliments, you and Charles kept playing the game.  

The target of the night was a man named Alexander Moreau. His name wasn’t on any public list, but in his world, he was an information broker, a mediator between powerful clients and assassins like you. Tonight, your job wasn’t to eliminate him but to extract what he knew.  

You were the first to approach. You found him deep in conversation with an older businessman, a gleaming gold watch on his wrist and a whiskey glass in his hand. You smiled elegantly, tilting your head slightly.  

“Pardon the interruption,”

you said, with that sweetness that masked your true intentions. “Mr. Moreau, may I steal a moment of your time?.”

The man lifted his gaze, studying you with interest. Charles, from across the room, glanced at you, his posture relaxed but keenly attentive.  

Moreau followed you to a more secluded corner of the hall, where the music and chatter softened.  

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said with a sly smile. “Though I must admit, I’m intrigued.”

“I found your presence at this gala interesting. Not quite your type of event, am I wrong?.”

“One must adapt to the times. But I suspect you already know that.”

You smiled, feigning amusement. You knew Moreau was intelligent and wouldn’t give away information easily. So you didn’t waste time on pleasantries.  

“I know you recently sold information. Information my client wants back.”

Moreau raised an eyebrow.  

“My dear lady, information is power. I don’t give it away without getting something in return.”

“Of course,” you replied, leaning slightly toward him, letting your perfume work its magic. “But we both know that if you don’t give us what we want, it will be a problem.”

Moreau studied you for a moment before chuckling.  

“Always so persuasive. Fine, I’ll tell you this: the information you seek was sold to one person. Someone who, if not handled carefully, will be a problem for everyone.”

“A name?,” you asked, keeping your composure.  

Moreau smiled again, but this time, with amusement.  

“You’ll find the name yourself. But I’ll give you one piece of advice: pay attention to who’s watching too closely.”

Before you could press further, Charles appeared at your side, his presence steady.  

“Am I interrupting something?,” he asked, with his usual calm.  

“Not at all” you replied, not breaking eye contact with Moreau.  

The man took a sip of his whiskey and, with one last smile, disappeared into the crowd.  

Charles exhaled lightly.  

“Always so cryptic.”

“But he gave us something,” you said. “Someone here has the information. We just need to figure out who.”

Hours later, the gala had ended. You were in a hotel room on the outskirts of Monaco, a meeting point whenever your boss summoned you. The room was luxurious, with a vast window offering a panoramic view of the illuminated city.  

In front of you stood a tall man in a dark suit. His face was nearly expressionless, but his cold, calculating eyes spoke for him. His name was Victor Langley. You knew little about him, only that he operated in the shadows and that his word was law.  

“Good work tonight,” he said in a neutral tone. “Moreau is a difficult man to make talk.”

Charles lounged on the sofa, his jaw tight.  

“He only gave us half-truths.”

Langley nodded slowly.  

“That’s how Moreau plays. Now, I have a new assignment for you both.”

You frowned slightly. It wasn’t common for you and Charles to receive the same mission.  

“Who is it?,” you asked.  

Langley barely smiled, a gesture that didn’t reassure you at all.  

“That’s the interesting part. I won’t give you a name.”

Charles leaned forward, eyeing him intently.  

“You’re saying we have to figure out who to eliminate?.”

“Exactly.”

A tense silence followed. You crossed your arms, demanding answers.  

“That makes no sense. If you want us to take someone out, it would be logical to give us their identity.”

Langley shrugged, as if it wasn’t his problem.  

“The orders come from higher up. I was only told that you two are the only ones fit for this job.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh.  

“How convenient.”

Langley observed you both calmly before adding:  

“You’ll find out soon. Consider this a test. You have one week.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving more questions than answers.

The silence left in the wake of his departure was heavy. Charles ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in frustration.  

"I don't like this."  

"Me neither," you admitted. "It's too risky."  

He looked at you, his green eyes intense under the room’s dim light.  

"We'll figure it out."  

You held his gaze and replied,  

"We always do."  

Charles gave a faint smile before leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a slow kiss.  

The morning after the meeting with Langley, life returned to its usual course. At least, on the surface.  

You and Charles woke up in the massive bed, the sheets tangled between your bodies. The sea breeze drifted in through the open windows, and the sound of the city gradually waking up filled the air.  

But as Charles stretched and pressed a distracted kiss to your shoulder before heading to the shower, your mind was already elsewhere.  

The target.  

You didn’t know who it was. You had no leads. All you knew was that you had one week to find and eliminate them.  

You and Charles operated in the same world, but when it came to work, each had their own methods. There was an unspoken agreement: you would handle this separately. And although you trusted each other, at the end of the day, you were both trained assassins. You didn’t share information unless it was necessary.  

So that morning, after having breakfast together and laughing as if nothing was wrong, you each went your separate ways.  

Your first instinct was to go back to Moreau. You knew that bastard had more information than he had let on at the gala.  

You found him in a private club in Nice, surrounded by bodyguards and beautiful women. Moreau lived like a king, but you knew that beneath all his luxury, he was a man always one step away from death.  

You waited for the right moment. When he stepped away from his group to a more secluded area of the club, you followed him.  

"You're persistent," he said without turning around, as if he already knew you were there.  

"You know I don’t like being given half-truths."  

Moreau slowly turned, a smug smile on his lips.  

"That’s what makes this more fun."  

You didn’t waste time. In a swift motion, you pulled a small knife from your dress and pressed it against his side. Moreau didn’t even flinch.  

"How much do you want to live, Moreau?" you whispered.  

He sighed, as if he were tired of the game.  

"Alright, alright. Listen… There’s someone in Monte Carlo who's been asking too many questions. Someone new in the scene. Might be your target."  

"Name."  

"I don’t have one. But I know they frequent the casino at the Hôtel de Paris. If I were you, I’d start there."  

You studied him for a moment. Moreau wasn’t easy to read, but you knew when he was lying. This time, he seemed sincere.  

"If you’re deceiving me, I’ll kill you."  

"I know, darling," he replied with a smirk. "But I’m not."  

You put the knife away and walked out without looking back.  

Meanwhile, Charles had taken a different approach. His instincts led him back to Langley.  

He didn’t like taking orders without clear information, and he wasn’t going to play a game without knowing the rules.  

The problem with Langley was that he wasn’t easy to find. So Charles had to turn to an old contact at the Monte Carlo port, a man who worked in private security for certain illicit businesses.  

"Langley isn’t in town," the man said, a burly guy with a few days’ worth of beard. "But he can see you over a video call."  

"Do it."  

The man led him to an office in the back of a warehouse. As soon as the screen lit up, Langley’s image appeared, his expression as neutral as ever.  

"I knew you’d come, Charles."  

"Give me something more. I’m not hunting a ghost."  

Langley sighed, as if tired of repeating the same answers.  

"Always so impatient."  

"Always so annoying," Charles retorted.  

Langley gave a faint smile.  

"Fine. Here’s your clue: the target was at the Monaco Grand Prix this year."  

Charles frowned.  

"That’s not enough."  

"It’s all you need. Start there."  

The screen went black before Charles could respond.  

He stood in silence for a moment, processing the information. If the target had been at the Monaco Grand Prix, it meant they had access to the elite of the sport. A sponsor, a businessman, a politician… or someone far more dangerous.  

Charles clenched his jaw.  

He didn’t like riddles.  

But one thing was certain: he would find this person.  

That night, you returned to the penthouse just as Charles was walking through the door.  

You both looked at each other, analyzing each other’s faces, searching for traces of what the other had discovered. But as always, neither said anything.  

"How was your day?" you asked with a flawless smile.  

"Productive. And yours?"  

"The same."  

Charles set his keys on the table and walked toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist.  

"Dinner out?"  

"I’d love to."

That night, they chose a discreet restaurant on a quiet corner of Monte Carlo. It was a small, elegant place, with barely half a dozen tables and an intimate atmosphere created by candlelight and the soft murmur of distant conversations.  

You chose a simple black dress that highlighted your features, while Charles opted for a perfectly tailored suit, as always.  

The dishes arrived one after another, a parade of delicate flavors they barely registered. Each bite was an excuse to avoid speaking, to not risk saying something that would give them away. As he filled your wine glass, you looked at him, wondering if he also felt that invisible weight.  

Charles seemed relaxed, but you knew him too well. His movements were a little slower, his eyes less bright. He was thinking, analyzing. Just like you.  

When they finally paid the bill and walked back to the penthouse, silence remained their greatest refuge. Neither of them mentioned the investigation or the clues guiding them down parallel paths toward the same truth.  

The following days were marked by the routine of their double life. In the mornings, they behaved like the perfect married couple: having breakfast together on the terrace, attending social events, and maintaining their impeccable public image. But as soon as the sun began to set, they separated, each with their own secret agenda.  

Your investigation led you back to the casino at the Hôtel de Paris, following Moreau’s trail. You spent hours observing, mentally noting the familiar and unfamiliar faces that frequented the place. You tried to identify someone who didn’t belong, someone who might be the target. But every time you thought you were getting close, the trail vanished.  

Finally, one night, you intercepted an intermediary working for Langley. It was difficult to get anything out of him, but you managed:  

“The target is closer than you think,” the man said before disappearing into the shadows.  

The phrase left you cold. What exactly did it mean?  

Charles, meanwhile, followed the lead through the Monaco Grand Prix. He reviewed guest lists, sponsors, and businessmen who had attended the event. He made discreet calls and pressed old contacts. But just like you, he encountered an unsettling void.  

One afternoon, while reviewing documents in his private office, he received an envelope. Inside was a note written with mechanical precision:  

“The closest enemy is the hardest to identify.”  

He read the words over and over, as if the truth was hidden between the lines. Something didn’t add up.  

Both of you reached the same conclusion at the same time, though you were in different places.  

You, mentally reviewing the pieces of your investigation, began to notice a pattern: every path seemed to lead back to Charles. The vague phrases, the contradictory clues everything pointed to one possibility.  

He, staring at the note in his office, had a similar revelation. If the target was “close,” if the enemy was “hard to identify,” then it couldn’t be an outsider. It had to be you.  

When you both returned to the penthouse that night, you didn’t talk about it. But you both knew.  

The following days were a mix of tension and denial. You both moved as if nothing had changed, but the truth chased you like a shadow.  

In the mornings, you still shared breakfast on the terrace. Charles poured your coffee, you asked about his day. Smiles, glances, small touches of affection. But it was all an act, a way to avoid the inevitable confrontation.  

At night, you both pretended to be busy. You said you had meetings, he mentioned important calls. But in reality, you were making plans, evaluating options, looking for a way to complete the mission without the other knowing.  

Neither of you wanted to do it. But you knew that failing to complete the assignment would be an act of betrayal. And in your world, betrayal was paid with life.  

On the last night of the week, you both returned to the penthouse at the same time, as if fate had planned the encounter.  

The atmosphere was different. The tension was palpable, like a knot in the air. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you removed your earrings, noticing how your hands trembled slightly.  

Charles, in his room, sat on the edge of the bed, holding a glass of whiskey. He watched the amber liquid, lost in thought.  

That night, neither of you slept. You knew the deadline was about to expire. And you knew the moment to act was drawing closer.  

The question you both avoided asking was the same: Will I be able to do it? 

A couple of hours later, the clock struck two in the morning when the phone rang.  

It was a call you had been expecting, though neither of you wanted to answer.  

You were on the balcony, watching the lights of Monte Carlo reflect on the sea. Charles was inside, pouring himself another whiskey. But when you both saw the screen illuminated with your respective bosses’ numbers, you knew time had run out.  

There were no more excuses. No more delays.  

With almost synchronized movements, you answered the call.  

“It’s time,” said the voices on the other end of the line.  

There were no further explanations. None were needed.  

You both hung up at the same time. The silence that followed was deafening.  

You kept looking at the horizon, feeling the cold breeze against your skin. Charles placed his glass on the glass table with a faint *click*.  

No words were necessary.  

Slowly, you turned around.  

He was waiting for you in the center of the room, his posture relaxed but alert. His jacket rested on the sofa, his fingers playing with the ring on his hand.  

You walked toward him calmly, your heart pounding in your chest.  

You both knew what had to be done.  

You both knew this would only end one way.  

And yet… neither of you was the first to attack.  

For an eternal moment, you stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to find a way out of the inevitable.  

And then, almost at the same time, you both moved.  

Your first strike was quick, aimed at his face, but Charles dodged it easily, catching your wrist in the process. With an agile twist, you tried to free yourself, using your other hand to throw a punch at his side.

He blocked it with his forearm and pushed you back, making you crash against the coffee table. The glass trembled but didn’t break.  

“You're going to have to do better than that, amour,” he murmured with a lopsided smile.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding. Instead, you took advantage of the distance to pull out the knife hidden on your thigh. With a precise movement, you tried to cut him, but Charles was faster.  

He dodged by mere millimeters, twisting his body and catching your wrist again. This time, he used his strength to turn you around and push you against the wall, pinning you in place.  

But you had already anticipated the move.  

You used the momentum to lift your leg and strike him in the ribs, forcing him to release you.  

Charles staggered back with a low grunt, bringing a hand to his side.  

“That hurt.”  

“That was the idea.”  

He smiled. Not like a man who was losing, but like someone who was enjoying the challenge.  

And then, he pulled out his gun.  

He aimed it straight at your chest.  

But you were already prepared.  

Before he could pull the trigger, you threw the knife at his hand. You didn’t manage to cut him, but the impact was strong enough to make him drop the weapon.  

The gun hit the floor with a loud clang.  

Both of you lunged for it at the same time.  

You rolled across the marble floor, feeling the cold against your skin. Charles tried to reach it, but you were faster.  

Just as your fingers brushed the metal, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over with force, making you land on the carpet.  

The impact knocked the air out of you, but you didn’t give up.  

You used your weight to turn him over, ending up on top of him. You tried to reach for the gun again, but Charles caught you, rolling with you until he was the one on top.  

Your wrists were trapped in his hands, pinned against the carpet.  

Both of you were breathing heavily, your bodies tense with adrenaline.  

Charles’ hair fell slightly over his forehead, his shirt was half unbuttoned, and his parted lips revealed his ragged breathing.  

Your legs were still tangled with his, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours.  

For a moment, neither of you moved.  

Desire and fury were indistinguishable in that instant.  

Charles smiled with that arrogant air that drove you crazy.  

“You know you can’t beat me, chérie.”  

His voice was low, almost a whisper.  

Your lips parted, your heart hammered in your chest.  

And then, instead of answering, you disarmed him in the only way you knew would make him fall.  

You kissed him.  

With the same intensity with which you had fought.  

Your lips crashed against his in a fierce, desperate kiss, pouring all the anger, frustration, and desire into every movement.  

Charles growled against your mouth, surprised at first, but then, his grip on your wrists loosened. His hands, which had been trying to dominate you, now trailed down your arms, touching your skin with a need that had nothing to do with the fight.  

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, making him let out a breathless gasp against your lips.  

Nothing else existed in that moment.  

Just the two of you.  

Just the need to forget, for an instant, that you were supposed to kill each other.  

But then…  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Both of you froze.  

Charles let his forehead fall against yours, closing his eyes in frustration.  

“Tell me it’s not what I think it is…”  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips.  

“If we don’t answer, they’ll come in.”  

Charles cursed under his breath in French before getting off you and walking toward the door, still disheveled.  

He opened it just enough to see the hotel manager. An older man with an impassive face that had seen too much in his lifetime.  

“The neighbors have complained about the noise,” the man said calmly. “Is everything all right here?”  

Charles ran a hand through his hair, forcing a tired smile.  

“We’re working.”  

The man nodded immediately, asking no further questions.  

“I understand. Try to keep it down.”  

Charles closed the door without another word.  

When he turned around, you were still on the floor, breathing deeply, an amused smile on your lips.  

“Working, huh?”  

He shrugged, leaning over you again.  

“It wasn’t a lie.”  

He looked at you with those intense green eyes, with an expression you knew all too well.  

The battle wasn’t over yet.  

But for that night, the war would be on pause.

[clxja16]

Not Actually Together

Charles Leclerc X Reader

Genre: fake dating au!

Warnings: swearing, emotionally dramatic

Word Count: 11K+

Author's Note: okay so I tried to do it a little different this time. usually i write like three/four part series, because it's easier for my brain. but i don't think people like that so i just wrote it all, so this is one long part but a somewhat satisfactory conclusion. lmk what you guys thinks.. thank you to anyone who enjoys this. imma be honest it feels a little melodramatic.

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

It had been a few weeks since Charles first mentioned Alexandra to you. Since then, you’d pieced together bits of their relationship but he was careful to keep it discreet. You didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer details. It was better that way. Today, though, was different. It was the last race before the summer break, and as usual, Charles was driving you to the track.

The early morning sun filtered through the car windows, casting a golden glow over the roads. The hum of the engine was a familiar backdrop to your thoughts. In the beginning, Charles had been rigid about the drive to the track—no touching the radio, no deviations from his carefully curated playlists. But over time, he’d loosened up. First, he’d let you choose the music on practice days. Then, gradually, he began trusting your taste entirely. Now, it was almost expected of you to play the music for the drive. 

You weren’t always sure if he liked what you chose, though. He never said much about it. But every now and then, after he parked the car, you’d catch him adding one of your songs to his personal playlist. It was a small thing, but it made your chest warm in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Today was no different. As the car rolled to a stop, you saw him pull out his phone and add another song. The corner of your mouth lifted in a faint smile. “Shall we head in?” Charles asked, turning to look at you.  

His eyes—those eyes—always seemed to catch you off guard. People argued over whether they were green or blue, but to you, they were something else entirely. When he looked at you like that, it was impossible not to feel something. Something deep and unspoken. Charles wasn’t yours. He would never be yours. But the way he looked at you—that was yours, and yours alone. 

“After you,” you said, smiling up at him. It was a sweet, genuine smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat.

Charles wasn’t sure when it had started, but your smile had become his undoing. Every time you flashed it at him—soft, warm, and just a little teasing—he felt his cheeks heat and his stomach flip. It was ridiculous, really. He wasn’t yours, and he never would be. But when you smiled like that, you owned him, if only for a moment.   

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door with a quiet grace. He held out his hand, and you took it without hesitation. His grip was firm, grounding, as he helped you out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, his hand still in yours.  

To anyone watching, you looked like the picture of a perfect couple—two people completely in love, completely in sync. But you and Charles knew the truth. Or at least, you thought you did.

-

At the race, Charles had crossed the finish line in fourth place. It wasn’t a terrible result, but you knew he wouldn’t be happy—not when he’d started on the front row, not when he’d been aiming for the podium. You waited for him in the garage, watching as he went through the motions of post-race interviews in the media pen. When he finally returned, his expression was unreadable, his usual spark dimmed by disappointment.

He didn’t say a word as he walked past you. You followed him silently, giving him the space he seemed to need. The two of you entered his dressing room, the door clicking shut behind you, and still, he remained quiet. You didn’t push him to talk. You knew better than anyone how Charles processed his emotions—how he needed time to sort through the frustration before he could voice it.  

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You were used to this, to the way he retreated into himself after a race that didn’t go as he planned. But then his phone buzzed, breaking the stillness. Alexandra’s name lit up the screen, her picture flashing brightly.

Charles’s face softened as he answered the call, a smile spreading across his lips—a smile you couldn’t remember ever eliciting from him. It was warm, genuine, and effortless, the kind of smile that made your chest ache. You didn’t stay to listen. Instead, you slipped out of the room, leaving him to talk to her in private. 

As you wandered through the paddock, you felt the weight of your anonymity settle over you. Without Charles by your side, you were just another face in the crowd. No cameras followed you, no fans called out your name, no one demanded your attention. For a moment, you told yourself you liked it this way—the peace, the freedom, the ability to move unnoticed. You repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You didn’t mind the chaos that came with being by Charles’s side. You didn’t mind the flashes of cameras, the constant attention, or the noise. Because being with him made it all worth it. He was the reason you endured it, the reason you smiled through it. And now, as you walked alone, the absence of it all felt like a void you couldn’t quite fill.  

You told yourself you liked the solitude, but the ache in your chest told a different story. 

- 

Charles watched you walk out of the room as he answered Alexandra’s call, the door closing softly behind you. For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on the space where you’d just been. A part of him wanted to hang up the phone, to follow after you, to take you by the hand and  be with you for a quiet stroll. He loved those moments with you. The moments where the world seemed to fade away and it was just the two of you, moving in sync through the chaos of the paddock.

He loved the way you held onto him a little tighter when fans approached, your fingers curling around his arm as if he were your anchor. He loved how you’d gently tug him toward the crowd, your voice soft but insistent as you reminded him to acknowledge the people who adored him. 

And then there were the photos—the endless requests from fans eager to capture a moment with him. You never seemed to mind the interruptions. You’d stand patiently by his side, your hand still in his, as he posed for pictures and signed autographs. 

As he listened to Alexandra’s voice on the other end of the line, his thoughts drifted back to you. He wondered where you were now, if you were wandering the paddock alone or finding a quiet corner to sit and wait. He wondered if you missed him as much as he suddenly missed you. But the call demanded his attention, and so he stayed, his heart being tugged in two different directions.

“Charles,” Alexandra says his name through the phone, “you’re gonna come tonight, right?” 

Charles brings himself back to pay attention to Alexandra, “yeah, yeah.” 

“And you’re gonna bring y/n right?”  Alexandra questions, excitement evident in her voice, “I really do want to meet her.”  

The idea of you and Alexandra meeting sends a ripple of unease through Charles. He doesn’t have a valid reason for the two of you not to meet—after all, you’re his fake girlfriend, and Alex is his real one. But the thought of the two worlds colliding makes him tense. He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know, Alex. I can ask y/n, but she’s not really a clubbing person. And honestly, I’m not in the mood to party tonight.”  

Alexandra’s voice takes on a pleading edge. “Please, Charles. We don’t ever do anything together—not in public, at least.”  

“Alex, that’s just how…” 

“Charles I know that’s how it has to be, and I love hanging out at home with you, I really do. But it would be nice to go out for once, to feel like we’re… normal. And if you bring y/n, it would be the perfect opportunity. No one would suspect anything.” Alex makes her case, and Charles doesn’t want to deny her.  

Her words hang in the air, and Charles can hear the longing in her voice. Alexandra isn’t just asking for a night out; she’s asking for a chance to exist in his world, even if it’s just for a few hours. She wants to feel like she matters, like she’s more than a secret tucked away in the shadows of his life.

“I will ask,” Charles says, his resistance wavering, “but if y/n says no, then i’m not going tonight.  She has made it clear how she feels about this, and I'm not going to make a fool out of her.”  

“I understand,” Alexandra replies, though her sigh betrays her disappointment. She doesn’t like this feeling of being second to you—not when she’s the one in the real relationship with Charles. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that she has to share him with someone who doesn’t even truly have a claim on him.  

As the call ends, Alexandra stares at her phone, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She loves Charles, but sometimes she wonders if she’s just another piece in the carefully constructed puzzle of his life. She wants to be more than that—more than the girl he hides away, more than the one who has to beg for a night out. But for now, she’ll take what she can get, even if it means sharing him with you.

-

As you and Charles walk back towards the car, after the events of the day, Charles asks, “what are you doing tonight?”  

You sigh, “I’m hoping to pack, my flight home is tomorrow in the late morning.” 

Charles stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing as his thoughts shift. “You’re not coming to Monaco with me?” His voice is tinged with surprise, almost disbelief, as if the idea of you not being there hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

You turn to face him, noticing the way his expression falters. “I’ll be in Monaco before you have to go to the Netherlands,” you reassure him, your tone gentle. “But no, I’m not going straight to Monaco from here.”

Charles stands still, a few paces behind you, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you think you see a flicker of pain in his gaze—something raw and unspoken. “I just thought…” he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. He looks at you with those eyes—the ones that always seem to see straight through you, the ones that hold a world of emotions you can’t always decipher. “I just thought you were coming home with me.”

You offer him a smile, that sweet, reassuring smile that he loves, and take a step closer to him. “Charles,” you say softly, “I’ll be back in Monaco before you can even miss me.”  But the truth is, he’s already missing you. He hasn’t even let go of you yet, and already he’s dreading the emptiness your absence will leave behind.  

You hold out your hand to him, a silent invitation to close the distance between you. For a moment, he hesitates, his emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Then, with a quiet resolve, he takes the first step forward, his hand slipping into yours. His grip is firm, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away too soon. 

The two of you walk toward the car, Charles reaches the passenger side first, opening the door for you with a small, almost reflexive gesture. You slide into the seat, murmuring a quiet “thank you,” but you notice the way his movements seem to slow, more deliberate than usual. As he walks around the car to the driver’s side, his mind races. There’s something he needs to ask you, something he doesn’t want to ask of you. He tries to find the right words, weighing each one carefully. This isn’t a conversation he can rush—it requires caution, a gentle touch. 

When he finally settles into the driver’s seat, the car door closing with a soft thud, the silence between you feels heavier than before. You glance at him, noticing the way his hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly, the way his jaw tenses as he stares straight ahead. It’s clear he has something on his mind, something he’s struggling to put into words. 

“Charles,” you call out softly, looking at him cautiously, “what's on your mind?” 

Charles freezes, looking like a deer caught in headlights, and you smile at him.  Charles sighs, running his hand through his hair.  “Alex wants to meet you,” he admits.   

You physically cannot hide your surprise, “Oh.” You don’t know what to say.  Your mind races, trying to process the idea of meeting Alexandra. She seems nice—kind, beautiful, and clearly someone who makes Charles happy. There’s no logical reason to refuse, but the thought still makes you feel awkward,  “Sure,” you smile, “when is a good time?”  

Charles hesitates, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “Well,” he begins, taking a deep breath, “she was thinking tonight, there’s this party at this club.”  

“Charles,” you start to shake your head, “that’s not really…” 

“I know,” he interrupts, his words tumbling out faster now, as if he’s trying to explain before you can object. “Alex wants to go, and she thinks it would be something we could do in public if you’re there. Since, you know, all we usually do is hang out at home. But if you say no, y/n, I won’t go. I promise.” He takes another breath, ready to say more, but you cut him off this time.  

“Don’t do that,” you say sharply, your voice rising as your face hardens with anger. “Do not make it seem like you can’t do something because of me, Charles.” The way you say his name—cold, clipped—makes him flinch. It’s not the way you usually say it, and the shift in tone stings. “Do not act like I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” 

Charles’s eyes widen, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to do, y/n,” he says, his voice earnest. He looks at you with those eyes—the ones that always seem to make you weak—and you feel yourself soften, just a little. “Alex wants to meet you because we spend a lot of time together. And that’s not your fault or your doing. She just wants to know who I’m spending my time with, and she thought tonight would be a good chance for that.” He looks down at his lap, his shoulders slumping. “If you don’t want to go, I won’t force you. We can just go back to the hotel, and we’ll figure out another time for you to meet Alex. I just meant… if you say no, then it’s no. I won’t argue with your decision.”  

You sigh, the tension in your chest easing slightly. None of this is ideal—not the fake relationship, not the secrecy, not the way Charles is caught between you and Alex. But you know it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your gaze dropping as you take a deep breath. “I know this situation wasn’t your idea. It’s what the team wanted, and I shouldn’t blame you.” You pause, then look up at him, forcing a small smile. “I’ll go tonight. I’ll meet Alex tonight.” 

Charles looks up at you, studying your face.  “Are you sure?”  He asks softly, his expression showing a mix of relief and concern.  

“Yeah it could be fun,” you smile, that sweet smile, that Charles loves so much.  There’s a silence that falls over you both, as Charles looks at you with those eyes, and there’s so many unspoken thoughts behind them.  

“Thank you,” Charles whispers to you.  

-

Much later that evening as you adorned an outfit befitting of a night out. Charles and you made your way to the club.  You and Charles walk hand in hand, into the club, he waves at some of the fans that spot him.  Inside, it’s much more crowded than you expect.  Charles pulls you closer to him, as he weaves his way through the crowd.  You know that there were gonna be several of the drivers and their girlfriends out tonight.  

As you approach the area that the drivers are gathering at you spot Kika.  You and her have formed a simple friendship, just from seeing each other at the races.  You and her aren’t exactly close, but she is definitely someone you find comfort in.  You smile and wave at her, as you find a seat next to her.  

“I thought parties like this weren’t your thing?” she shouts over the music in your ear.  

“They’re not, but Charles asked me to come.” Kika nods, as she hands you a shot.  Without hesitation, you down it—and then two more in quick succession. Kika watches with a mix of amusement and concern, giggling at your boldness. She’s not sure if you’re a regular drinker, but your actions suggest something is on your mind.  

Meanwhile, Charles is a few feet away, mingling with fellow drivers like Pierre and Carlos. They’re deep in conversation, their words drowned out by the music. Charles is in his element, laughing and gesturing animatedly, while you and Kika share a quieter moment amidst the chaos.  

You watch as Charles rises from his seat, his figure cutting through the dim, pulsating lights of the club. He disappears into the crowd, his broad shoulders and confident stride making him easy to track—at first. But as the sea of faces shifts and sways, the crowd swallows him whole, and your eyes lose him in the blur of bodies and flashing lights. You crane your neck, trying to catch another glimpse, but he’s gone. 

Moments later, you spot him again. This time, he’s not alone. Standing beside him is Alexandra, her presence commanding attention even in the chaotic atmosphere. The club’s lighting seems to bend around her, casting a soft, golden glow on her flawless skin. She moves with an effortless grace, her every step exuding confidence and poise. Her beauty is undeniable—radiant, almost otherworldly.

You can’t help but notice how perfectly she fits into this world, how she seems to belong in a way you never could. Her smile is dazzling, her laughter carrying over the music as she leans in to say something to Charles. He laughs too, his expression relaxed and open in a way you can’t bring out of him. 

Your eyes follow them as they draw closer.  “y/n,” Charles calls your name, and he looks at you with those eyes.  Those eyes, with that look, that belong to you and only you.  He gives you that look, and your heart breaks knowing that’s the only thing you have.  “This is Alexandra.”  He steps aside, presenting her to you.  His tone is polite, but there’s a flicker of unease in his expression, as if he’s bracing for impact.

“Hi,” you say with a big smile, as she moves to hug you and you are forced to stand and hug her back.  

“Hi,” Alex says breathlessly, and even her voice is beautiful.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Charles says nothing but praises about you.”  

For a split second, your heart skips a beat. Charles talks about me? The thought sends a rush of warmth through you, but it’s quickly replaced by doubt. You force a blush, playing along. “Charles says nothing but wonderful things about you too,” you lie, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. You realize, with a sinking feeling, that her words are probably just as hollow. Charles doesn’t talk about Alexandra to you, and you doubt he’s ever mentioned you to her.  

“I’m so grateful that you let Charles ask me out,” Alex says with a genuine smile, even her smile is beautiful.  

“Of course,” you say, your smile tightening, “it really isn’t my place to tell him who he can and can’t date.”  

Alex giggles, a sound that’s light and carefree. “And thank god your relationship isn’t real,” she adds, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I mean, I knew Charles was in a relationship when I started hitting on him, so I’m just relieved it wasn’t a real one.”  

Your breath catches, and you’re not sure if you manage to keep your expression neutral. “I mean, thank god,” you echo with an awkward chuckle, your mind racing. Did she really just say that? You glance at Charles, but he’s already looking away, his jaw tight. “You guys should go get a drink or something,” you suggest quickly, desperate to end the conversation.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go check out the bar,” Alex says as she turns back and looks at Charles to point at the bar.  She turns back to look at you, still smiling so radiantly, “it was so nice to meet you, let’s hang out sometime.”  

You nod, “of course we must have lunch or something.”  You watch as they walk away, your smile fading the moment they’re out of sight. You sink back into your seat, reaching for another shot on the table. You down it in one gulp, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the sting of Alex’s words. You want to believe she didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but the doubt lingers.

“Did she say she knew?” Kika’s voice cuts through your thoughts, her tone sharp and accusing.

“I think it sounds worse than-” you shake your head as you talk.  

“No,” Kika interjects, “it sounds like she was willing to be a homewrecker.” 

“Kika, I think you’re exaggerating,” you reply, trying to laugh it off, but the sound falls flat.

“Girl, be so for real right now,” Kika snaps, leaning closer. “She just admitted she knew Charles was in a relationship when she made a move on him. That’s not normal.” 

“But we’re not actually together,” you retort. 

“She didn’t know that,” Kika fires back. “All she knew was that he was in a relationship. That’s messed up, and you know it.”

Kika raises her eyebrows, daring you to disagree. You sigh, your shoulders slumping. There’s no point in arguing. Not that any of it matters now.  

-

The rest of that night is a blur, the edges softened by too many drinks and the weight of unspoken words. You and Charles don’t discuss Alexandra again. The next morning, you leave Belgium before he does, slipping away without fanfare. The summer break stretches before you, a welcome reprieve filled with family and distance. The time away gives you space to breathe, to think, to untangle the mess of emotions tied to Charles.

Two weeks pass, and you convince yourself you’ve figured it all out. The conclusion is clear: you don’t like Charles. Not in that way at least. The hours spent together, the shared smiles, the quiet moments—they were just part of the act.  You tell yourself you’ve mistaken his kindness for something more.  That your feelings are nothing more than a byproduct of the close proximity. You repeat it like a mantra: You don’t like Charles. You don’t like Charles.  

By the time you land at Nice Côte d'Azur Airport, you’ve almost convinced yourself it’s true. Charles insisted on picking you up, despite you arguing that a taxi would be fine. You protested, but he wouldn’t budge. And now, as you spot him weaving through the crowd, your resolve wavers.  

He looks… different. Or maybe it’s just that you’ve forgotten the way his presence makes you blush, the way his eyes light up when he sees you. Your chest tightens as he approaches, and you realize just how much you’ve missed him.  

“Hi,” he says, slightly out of breath, as if he’d been running to you. Before you can respond, he’s pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your shoulder, so softly that you wonder if you imagined it.  

“Hi,” you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. You hug him back, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor yourself. When he finally pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes—the ones that belong to you and only you.  

You can’t help but smile, and when you do, Charles’s heart skips a beat. He’s waited two weeks to see that smile, the one that lights up your face and makes his stomach flip. It’s the smile he’s come to love, though he’d never say it out loud.  

“Let’s go home,” he says, holding out his hand to you. The word home lingers in the air, heavy with meaning. You take his hand, your fingers slotting perfectly into his, and something about the way he says it makes your chest ache.  

Charles grabs your suitcase, his free hand still holding yours, and the two of you make your way to the car. The airport buzzes around you, but at this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you, walking toward something you’re both too afraid to name.  

The drive from the airport to Charles’ apartment is quiet.  The hum of the car engine and the soft music you play, filling the space between you. You stare out the window, watching the familiar streets of Monaco blur past. Charles glances at you occasionally, his fingers tapping the steering wheel as if he’s searching for an opening to speak. But the words never come, and neither do yours.

When you arrive, you look up at the building before you.  You try to remind yourself that everything from here on out is just an act.  Charles carries your suitcase upstairs, his movements brisk and efficient. You follow him, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and dread. The door to his apartment swings open, and the smell of something delicious wafts out—garlic, herbs, and warmth. 

“Welcome back!” a cheery voice calls out, as Alexandra rounds the corner to greet you.  

You freeze seeing her standing there.  She has an apron tied around her waist, subtle sweat beads drip down the sides of your face.  The smile she wears is genuine and kind.  She looks breathtaking at this moment.  Even the disheveled, homebody, tirelessly working version of her is stunningly beautiful. 

“Y/N! It’s so good to finally meet you properly,” she says, pulling you into a hug before you can react. Her embrace is warm, her perfume soft and floral. “Charles has told me so much about you.”

You stiffen, your arms moving awkwardly up to hug her back.  Over her shoulder, you catch Charles’s gaze. He looks uneasy, his jaw tight as he sets your suitcase down. 

“Alex wanted to make something to welcome you back,” Charles says, his voice carefully measured.  

Alexandra pulls away, her smile still radiant, and glowing.  “I made pasta, I hope you like it,” she says as she plants a soft kiss on Charles' cheek before returning to the kitchen. The act makes you clench your jaw, how you wish that it was you doing that.  

You try to remind yourself that you don’t like Charles.  “That was really kind of you Alex,” you say walking past Charles and towards the kitchen.  

“I know I love a good home cooked meal after a long flight,” Alex says as she plates the food, “I thought you would enjoy the same.”  She brings the plates to the dining table.  

She ushers you toward the dining table, which is set with candles and a bottle of wine. The scene is so domestic, so perfect, that it makes your chest ache. You glance at Charles, but he’s avoiding your eyes, busying himself with pouring glasses of water.

“Please, come sit,” she says.  You take your seat across from Alexandra.  You can tell she’s worked hard on this meal.  

“It smells amazing,” you say, your voice tight as you smile. You pick up your fork, your appetite gone, but you force yourself to take a bite. It’s delicious, of course.

“Tell me all about your summer,” Alexandra says, she looks more beautiful in the candle light, “Charles said you were with family.” 

“It was good,” you say, “quiet.  Different.” 

“That sounds lovely,” she says, her tone warm. “I’ve been here most of the break. Charles has been such a great host.”

You glance at him again, but he’s staring at his plate, his fork pushing food around without eating. The awkwardness in the room is cutting, though Alexandra seems oblivious—or maybe she’s just that good at pretending.

“It’s nice to finally have you here,” she continues, reaching for the wine bottle. “Charles talks about you all the time. It’s like I already know you.”

“Does he?” you ask with a bit of a force chuckle, “I hope it’s nothing but good things.” 

“Oh of course,” Alexandra says as she looks at Charles, nothing but love in her eyes, “I think it would literally kill him to say a negative thing about you.” 

You smile, looking back at your plate.  Charles looks at you, that smile you wear isn’t the same.  It’s not the smile that he loves.  It’s different, it’s a sad smile.  “I’m glad he’s not telling lies,” you finally say looking at Alexandra.  You can feel Charles’ gaze on you, but you don’t meet it.  

The rest of the meal passes in a blur. Alexandra fills the silence with stories about her summer, her laughter bright and easy. You nod along, your responses polite but distant. Charles stays quiet, his presence a heavy weight at the table.

When the meal is over, Alexandra insists on cleaning up. “You two must be tired,” she says, shooing you toward the living room. “Go relax. I’ve got this.”

“Thank you again for cooking,” you say.  

“Of course,” Alexandra smiles, “It was so nice having you. Now go unwind.” 

You don’t argue. You follow Charles into the living room, you try to remind yourself once more. You don’t have genuine feelings for Charles.  He sits on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“Charles,” you call out to him softly.  

He looks up, his eyes tired. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough. “I didn’t know she was going to do all this.”

You sit beside him, your hands clasped in your lap. “She’s… really kind.”

Charles sighs, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as if anchoring himself. “Yeah, she is,” he murmurs, his voice low and strained. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for something—understanding, maybe, or forgiveness. But the words don’t come, and the silence between you grows heavier.  

You lean further back into the couch, your gaze fixed on the ceiling. “When the season is over, you can be more open about your relationship with her,” you say, your tone carefully neutral. “No more pretending. No more… me.”  

Charles flinches, his jaw tightening as he stares at the floor. His fingers tap restlessly against his knee, a telltale sign of his unease. “It’s not that simple,” he says finally, his voice rough, though he doesn’t elaborate.  

You turn to look at him, your heart aching at the conflict etched across his face. “Isn’t it?” you ask softly, though you already know the answer.  

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. His eyes drop to his hands, his shoulders slumping under the weight of everything left unsaid. The sound of Alexandra humming in the kitchen fills the silence, a painful reminder of the life Charles has built—and the one you’re no longer sure you belong in.  Neither of you say anything more for the night.  

-

Time doesn’t allow you to wallow. It never does. It throws you into the next event before you can catch your breath, before you can prepare. Time forces you to face the crowd, to put on the mask and play the part. You sit in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the paddock entrance. The sea of photographers waits, their cameras poised, ready to capture every and all moments.  

Charles comes around to your side, opening the door for you. His hand is steady, but his eyes show his concern.  

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, his gaze searching yours.  

“Yeah,” you force a smile, though it feels brittle on your lips. You take his outstretched hand, your fingers slipping into his as you step out of the car. His grip is firm, grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him.  

“I forgot about this,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the hum of the paddock.  

Charles’s jaw tightens, guilt flickering across his face. “We can take the other entrance,” he offers, his tone hesitant. The other entrance is quieter, less crowded, but it feels like running away.  

You shake your head, your resolve hardening. “It’s okay.”  

The moment you take the first step forward, the cameras erupt. Flashes of light burst around you, blinding and relentless. Charles’ smile is bright, effortless, as he waves at the crowd. You mirror him, your own smile plastered on, but your grip on his hand tightens instinctively.  

His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, a small, unconscious gesture that sends a shiver up your spine. You glance at him, but he’s focused on the crowd, his smile never wavering. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.  

“Charles,” you say softly, your voice barely audible over the noise. You’ve just arrived at the Ferrari motorhome, the chaos of the paddock fading behind you.  

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah?”  

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. This isn’t real, you remind yourself. It’s just an act. But the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only person in the world—makes it hard to breathe.  

“Nothing,” you say finally, your voice barely a whisper.  

Charles lets go of your hand, and the loss of his touch is immediate. You clench your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms to keep from reaching for him. You watch him disappear into a room, his figure swallowed by the shadows. You know you’ll barely see him for the rest of the day, and the thought leaves you hollow.  

Hours pass in a blur. You make yourself comfortable in the Ferrari motorhome, but your mind is anything but at ease. The weight of your feelings presses down on you, a constant ache in your chest. You don’t notice Charles approaching until he’s standing in front of you, his presence pulling you back to the present.  

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a seat across from you. His fingers move instinctively, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that it steals your breath. “What’s on your mind?”  

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head gently. “Nothing important.”  

Charles’s gaze softens, his hand lingering near your face for a moment before he pulls it back. “Everything about you is important to me,” he says, his tone casual, as if the words don’t carry the weight of the world.  

Your heart flutters, a traitorous warmth spreading through your chest. You want to believe him, to let yourself fall into the comfort of his words, but you can’t. Not when you know this is an act.  

“We’re heading to the track,” he says, standing up. “I’ll see you later.”  

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. As he turns to leave, he pauses, his hand brushing against your shoulder. Then, without warning, he leans down and plants a soft kiss on your cheek.  

The act is so unexpected, so intimate, that it leaves you frozen. Your mind races, a million questions swirling in your head. Why? There are no cameras here, no fans watching. No one to perform for. So why?  

Charles pulls away, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, charged moment. Then he’s gone, leaving you sitting there, your hand pressed to your cheek as if to hold onto the warmth of his lips.  

-

The Dutch Grand Prix unfolds like all the others—chaotic, exhilarating, and filled with the same familiar routines. You play your part as Charles’ girlfriend flawlessly, smiling for the cameras, laughing at his jokes, and holding his hand as you navigate the paddock. But every moment together leaves you more confused than the last. 

Time, however, is relentless. As soon as the race ends on Sunday, you’re boarding a plane. The Italian Grand Prix is next, and the entire week is packed with events for Charles. There’s no time to breathe, no time to process. Sponsor appearances, media commitments, team meetings—his schedule is a whirlwind, leaving little room for anything else.

In a strange way, you’re grateful for it. The constant busyness means your time together is limited, and that makes it easier to keep your walls up. If you don’t see him, you can’t fall deeper into the trap of pretending this is real. If you don’t hear his voice, you can’t let yourself believe the way he says your name means something more. Distance, you tell yourself, is your only defense against the ache in your chest.

But even as you cling to that logic, a part of you wishes for just one more moment—one more stolen glance, one more brush of his hand against yours. Just one more chance to pretend, even if only for a moment.

Today is Sunday, race day—the final act of this week-long spectacle in Italy. The air is thick with anticipation, but Charles has been in a slightly sour mood since yesterday’s qualifying, where he secured fourth on the grid. You watch him now in his dressing room, his movements sharp and focused as he goes through his timing drills. The rhythmic sound of his steps fills the room, a steady beat that mirrors the tension in his shoulders.  

“Don’t tire yourself out before the race even starts,” you tease, your voice light and playful, cutting through the silence.  

Charles pauses, glancing over at you. The corners of his mouth twitch, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seems to lift. He’s grateful you’re here, sitting in the quiet with him, offering a moment of calm before the storm.  

“I’m just psyching myself up,” he says, flashing you a small but genuine smile.  

You smile, your tone softening. “You’re going to do great out there,” you say, your voice steady and sure. “I have nothing but faith in you that you’ll bring home the results you want.”  

Charles stops completely, his drills forgotten as he turns to face you. His eyes—soft, caring, and impossibly kind—meet yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The look he gives you, that look.  Something so raw and intimate just below the surface. 

He might not be yours, he may never be yours, but this look—that look—is yours.  

“Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words are too fragile to speak aloud.  

The room feels warmer somehow, the air between you charged with unspoken emotions. You don’t say anything else; you don’t need to. The quiet understanding between you is enough.  

Charles takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he exhales. He gives you one last lingering look before turning back to his preparations, a small but steady smile playing on his lips.  

You stay there, watching him, your presence a silent anchor as he readies himself for the race ahead.  

-

You watch the race from the garage, your eyes glued to the monitors tracking Charles’s car as it weaves through the pack. The tension is palpable, every overtake, every corner, every lap tightening the knot in your chest. When Charles fights his way into first place, you can’t help but jump to your feet, cheering alongside the rest of the crew. You hold your breath as he maintains his lead, the checkered flag feeling like it’s an eternity away.  

The race drags on, each lap stretching time to its limits. You count them down, your heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engines. As Charles approaches the final corner on the final lap, the garage erupts. You’re jumping, screaming, caught up in the electric energy of the moment. There isn’t a garage in the paddock cheering louder than Ferrari.  

The second the checkered flag waves, you’re running. You sprint with the team to parc ferme, your feet barely touching the ground. You arrive before Charles does, your chest heaving as you watch his car pull up in front of the number 1 sign.  

You don’t have to pretend to be happy for him. You don’t think about the cameras or the fans or the performance you’re supposed to put on. All you care about is Charles Leclerc, standing there in his red Ferrari, victorious at the Italian Grand Prix.  At the home grand prix. 

Charles wastes no time. He leaps out of the car, his movements fueled by adrenaline and joy. He crashes into Fred first, hugging his team principal with a force that nearly knocks them both over. The crowd surges forward, hands reaching out to pat him on the back, to share in this moment of triumph. The atmosphere is intoxicating, a heady mix of pride, joy, and sheer exhilaration. You’re overwhelmed by it all—by the love for Formula One, for Ferrari, for the tifosi, and most of all, for Charles.  

When Charles steps back from Fred, he pulls off his helmet, his hair damp with sweat, his face flushed with victory. His eyes scan the crowd, and when they land on you, everything else seems to fade.  

He doesn’t think. He doesn’t hesitate.  He acts on his emotions alone. 

Charles strides toward you, his hands cupping your face with surprising gentleness. And then he kisses you.  

The kiss is raw, unfiltered, and filled with emotions you can’t name. It feels real—so real that it steals your breath. The world around you disappears, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum. All you can feel is the warmth of his lips on yours, the way his hands tremble against your skin. His fingers grasping at the ends of your hair.  For a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.  

When he pulls away, he doesn’t say a word. His eyes search yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. But before either of you can speak, Lando and Oscar are there, clapping him on the back, pulling him into the chaos of celebration.  

You’re left standing there, your fingers brushing against your lips as if to hold onto the memory of his kiss. The warmth lingers, a bittersweet reminder of a moment that felt too real to be part of the act.  

-

Alexandra watches the scene unfold from her hotel room, the glow of the television casting shadows across her face. She sees Charles leap out of his car, his joy radiating through the screen. She sees him hug Fred, the team, the crew—his smile so wide it could light up the entire paddock. And then she sees you.  

Her breath catches as Charles pulls off his helmet, his eyes scanning the crowd. When they land on you, something shifts. His expression softens, his movements slow, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world ceases to exist.  

She watches, her heart pounding, as he strides toward you. She watches his hands cup your face, so gently, so reverently, as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. And then she watches him kiss you.  

It’s not the kind of kiss they share—quick, polite, perfunctory. No, this kiss is raw, unfiltered, and filled with an intensity that makes her chest ache. She sees the way his fingers tremble against your skin, the way his body leans into yours as if he can’t bear to let go. She sees the way he looks at you when he pulls away, his eyes brimming with an overwhelming amount of love.  

Alexandra feels the tears before she even realizes she’s crying. They roll down her cheeks, hot and relentless, as she clutches the edge of the bed. She tries to tell herself it’s an act, a performance, nothing more than a show for the cameras. But deep down, she knows better.  

She’s tried to ignore it—the way Charles’s eyes follow you instinctively, like you’re the only person in the room. She’s tried to ignore the way he speaks about you, his voice softening with a fondness he’s never shown her. She’s tried to ignore how your smile can brighten his mood, even on his darkest days. She’s tried to ignore how gentle he is with you, how careful, as if you’re something fragile and precious.  

But now, watching the two of you from this private hotel room, far from the crowds and cameras, she can’t ignore it anymore. You look like a real couple. You look like his girlfriend.  

Alexandra knows she can’t compete with someone like you. You’re the sunlight breaking through on a rainy day, the sparkle on the ocean under the moonlight. You’re the tinkle of the brightest star, the kind of light that draws people in and holds them captive. You’re a shiny emerald in a sea of diamonds—unique, irreplaceable, unforgettable.  

You are everything.  

And she is nothing.  At the very least she is nothing compared to you for Charles. 

The realization crashes over her like a wave, pulling her under until she can’t breathe. She curls into herself, the tears coming harder now, as the weight of it all settles in her chest. She loves him—she loves him so much—but it doesn’t matter. Because he loves you.  

And there’s nothing she can do to change that.  

-

After the podium celebrations, Charles disappears into a sea of cameras that follow him towards the press conference. You slip away, weaving through the crowd toward the motorhome. The weight of the day presses on your shoulders, but it’s the stares—the lingering gazes of strangers—that make your skin crawl. You can feel their eyes on you, their whispers trailing behind you like shadows.  

You quicken your pace, your heart pounding in your chest, when you hear the rapid click of footsteps behind you. You turn, and there’s Kika, breathless and flushed, her face etched with something you can’t quite place. Pity. Concern. Fear.  

“Y/N,” she says softly, her voice trembling as if she’s afraid to shatter you.  

“What is it?” you ask, though the unease in her expression tells you everything you need to know. Your stomach twists as she hands you her phone, the screen glowing with a headline that stops you cold:  

‘Charles Leclerc Cheating? Two Is Better Than One.’

Your hands tremble as you scroll through the article. It’s filled with photos—Charles and Alexandra, laughing on a sunlit terrace, walking hand in hand through the streets of Monaco in the middle of night, sharing quiet moments that feel too intimate to be real. Some of the pictures date back to the Hungarian Grand Prix, a timeline of a relationship you didn’t know existed.  

And then, at the bottom of the article, there it is: a photo of you and Charles from just hours ago. His hands cupping your face, his lips pressed to yours in a kiss that felt so real, so raw, so yours.  

The caption beneath it reads: ‘Was it just a summer fling, or is it a torrid affair for the Formula One driver?’  

The article is careful to blur Alexandra’s face and omit her name, but the damage is done. The world sees her. The world sees you. And the world sees Charles caught between the two.  

“He said he wouldn’t do this to me,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you hand the phone back to Kika. The words feel hollow, like a promise that was never meant to be kept.  

You turn on your heel, your feet carrying you toward the motorhome before your mind can catch up. Kika follows close behind, her steps hurried and anxious.  

“Y/N, wait—what are you going to do?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.  

“I’m going home,” you say, the words final, absolute. “Tell Charles I had an emergency. Or don’t tell him anything at all. But I’m not staying here for another second.”  

Kika reaches for your arm, her touch gentle but insistent. “Let me come with you. I’ll make sure you get home safely.”  

You shake your head, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Pierre’s going to be looking for you. You don’t have to worry about me.”  

You step into the motorhome, your movements quick and mechanical as you gather your things. Kika watches from the doorway, her expression torn between concern and helplessness.  

“Thank you, Kika,” you say softly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “For everything.”  

Before she can respond, you’re gone, disappearing into the chaos of the paddock. Kika stands there, frozen, as she watches you walk away—your figure growing smaller and smaller until you vanish from sight.  

The noise of the paddock fades behind you, replaced by the hollow echo of your footsteps. You don’t look back.  

-

The press conference with the podium finishers is winding down, the atmosphere in the room relaxed as the moderator announces the final questions. Charles sits between Lando and Oscar, his smile easy but tired, the adrenaline of the race still buzzing faintly under his skin.  

Then, like a crack of thunder, a reporter shoots to his feet, his voice cutting through the calm.  

“Charles!” he shouts, not waiting to be called on. “Care to comment on the article that was just released minutes ago?”  

The room erupts into chaos. Reporters scramble for their phones, fingers flying across screens as they search for the article. Murmurs ripple through the crowd, growing louder with each passing second. Charles glances at Lando and Oscar, their faces mirroring his own confusion.  

“I’m sorry, what article?” Charles asks, forcing a chuckle, though his stomach twists with unease. He can’t imagine what they’re talking about, but the tension in the room is palpable.  

The reporter doesn’t hesitate. “Are you cheating on your girlfriend, Y/N?”  

The silence that follows is deafening. Every eye in the room locks onto Charles, every camera lens zooms in on his face. Even Lando and Oscar turn to him, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity.  

Charles freezes, his mind going blank. The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. His heart pounds in his chest, his thoughts racing in a thousand directions at once.  

Before he can gather himself, a Ferrari representative rushes the stage, their voice sharp and commanding. “We’re going to end right there. Thank you for your time!”  

The room explodes into noise as crew members swarm Charles, pulling him to his feet and ushering him toward the exit. Reporters surge forward, shouting questions, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusations and demands. Cameras flash, their blinding lights adding to the chaos.  

Charles stumbles as he’s pushed through the crowd, his mind spinning. He fumbles for his phone, desperate to see the article, but the noise around him is overwhelming. The questions keep coming, each one louder and more invasive than the last.  

“Charles, is it true?”  

“Who is the other woman?”  

“How long has this been going on?”  

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, his pulse racing as he’s hurried toward the Ferrari motorhome. The crowd follows, a relentless wave of voices and cameras that he can’t escape.  

When he finally reaches the motorhome, he bursts inside, his eyes scanning the room frantically. “Y/N?” he calls, his voice strained.  

The room is empty. His heart sinks, panic clawing at his chest.  

“She’s not here,” a voice says softly.  

Charles turns to see Kika standing in the doorway, her face pale and her expression grim. “I didn’t know what to do,” she admits, her voice trembling. “So I waited here for you, trying to figure out what to say.”  

“Where is Y/N?” Charles demands, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.  

Kika hesitates, her eyes filled with pity. “She said she was going home.”  

Charles stares at her, his mind reeling. “Home? What do you mean, home?”

Kika shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Charles. I don’t know.  Do you know where home is for Y/N?”  

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He sinks into a chair, his hands trembling as he clutches his phone. The noise outside fades into the background, replaced by the deafening silence of his own thoughts.  

-

After hours of enduring a relentless lecture from Ferrari’s PR team, Charles is finally allowed to leave. The weight of the world feels crushing on his shoulders as he steps out into the cool night air. His mind races, trying to remember where home is for you. He knows you told him—back at the beginning of the season, right after you signed the contract agreeing to pretend to be his girlfriend.  

It was supposed to be a simple arrangement, a business deal. But that first day, after the ink had dried, you and him went on a little date—just to get to know each other. You shared many little details about yourself: where you were from, your favorite foods, the music you loved. He listened, but he didn’t commit it to memory. He didn’t think he needed to.  

Now, standing alone in the dimly lit parking lot, he curses himself for not paying closer attention. He should have remembered. He could have remembered. If he wanted to, he would have.   

When he reaches his car, he opens the passenger-side door, his body moving on autopilot. He stops, his hand frozen on the handle, as the reality hits him: you’re not here. You’re not sitting in the seat beside him, laughing at his terrible jokes or scrolling through your phone to find the perfect playlist.  

His chest aches, a sharp, hollow pain that makes it hard to breathe. He closes the door gently, as if you’re there sitting inside, and walks around to the driver’s side.  

As he slips into the car, he takes a deep breath, his eyes drifting to the empty passenger seat. For a moment, he can almost see you there—your smile, your hand resting on the console, your voice filling the silence with stories and laughter. But the illusion shatters as quickly as it forms, leaving him alone in the quiet.  

He starts the engine, the sound jarring in the stillness. He doesn’t remember to put on any music. You always did that for him. The silence is deafening, a constant reminder of your absence.  The drive to the hotel feels endless. His mind is elsewhere, replaying every moment he took for granted, every detail he failed to hold onto.  

When he finally pulls into the hotel parking lot, he sits there for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel. The weight of his loneliness presses down on him, heavier than any race-day pressure.  He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t even know where to start.  

As Charles makes his way to his hotel room, his thoughts are consumed by you. The weight of the day, the accusations, the chaos—it all fades into the background as he imagines what he’ll say when he sees you. When he opens the door, the room is dark, but he can see a figure standing there, silhouetted against the faint light from the window.  

For a moment, his heart leaps. He thinks—no, he hopes—it’s you. That you’ve come back, that you’re standing there waiting for him, and that he can fix this. He hopes that home, for you, is with him.  

But as the figure steps forward, the hope shatters. It’s not you. It’s Alexandra.  

Charles doesn’t try to hide his disappointment. His shoulders slump, his face falls, and the breath he didn’t realize he was holding escapes in a quiet, defeated sigh. The reaction is like a knife to Alexandra’s heart. She doesn’t need words to confirm what she already knows: it was never going to be her.  

“Alex,” Charles says softly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “What are you doing here?”  

He moves to walk past her, not sparing her another glance, but she stops him with her voice.  

“Did you ever love me, Charles?” Her words tremble, fragile and raw, as if they might break under the weight of her own fear. She needs to hear the truth from him, even if it destroys her.  

Charles freezes, his back still to her. He does love Alexandra. He loves her in a way that is unique to her, a way that is tender and real. In another lifetime, in another world, he might have been happy with her. But this isn’t that lifetime, and this isn’t that world.  

“I do love you, Alex,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He still doesn’t turn to face her. “Just… not in the way I love Y/N.”  

Alexandra’s breath hitches, a sob catching in her throat. “Why?” she asks, her voice breaking. “Why lead me on like this, Charles? Why let me fall in love with you when you knew you wouldn’t feel the same?”  

Charles finally turns to look at her, his heart aching at the sight of her tear-streaked face. The pain he’s caused her is written plainly in her eyes, and it cuts deeper than he expected.  

“I thought,” he begins, his voice faltering, “I thought you could stop me from falling in love with Y/N.”  

The admission hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. Alexandra stares at him, her chest heaving as she tries to process his words.  

Charles steps closer, his hands reaching up to gently cup her face. His thumbs brush away her tears, his touch soft and soothing. She leans into it, just for a moment, savoring the warmth of his hands one last time.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt you like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret.  

Alexandra pulls his hands away from her face, her own trembling as she holds them for a moment before letting go. “Goodbye, Charles,” she says, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks.  

She turns to leave, her steps slow and deliberate. But as she reaches the doorway, she pauses, her back to him. ���I hope you get her back,” she says softly, her voice carrying a bittersweet finality.  

And then she’s gone, the door closing softly behind her.  

Charles stands there, alone in the silence, his hands still outstretched as if reaching for something—or someone—who’s no longer there.  

-

“Get up!” a voice barks, sharp and impatient, cutting through the fog of Charles’s hangover.  

His head pounds like a drum, each throb synchronized with the blinding sunlight streaming through the window. He groans, squinting against the assault of light, his mouth dry and sticky as he smacks his lips together. The events of last night are a blur—fragmented images and muffled sounds that refuse to connect into a coherent memory.  

“Get up already!” the voice shouts again, louder this time, coming from the foot of the bed.  

Charles rolls over, his body heavy and uncooperative, to see Pierre standing there, arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face. Charles doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, he collapses back into the pillows, the plush mattress swallowing him whole.  

He hears Pierre scoff, the sound dripping with exasperation, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not until Pierre grabs him by the ankles and yanks him halfway off the bed.  

“What the fuck?” Charles snaps, his voice hoarse and ragged as he kicks out, trying to free himself. He glares at Pierre, his eyes bloodshot and wild.  

Pierre doesn’t let go. “I found Y/N.”  

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His exhaustion, his irritation, his pounding headache—it all evaporates in an instant. He sits up abruptly, his heart racing as he scrambles to his feet.  

“Where?” he demands, his voice sharp and urgent.  

“Andrea’s already getting the jet ready,” Pierre says, watching as Charles frantically rummages through the room, shoving clothes and belongings into a bag. “You’ve got an hour to get to the airport.”  

Charles’s hands tremble as he zips up the bag, his mind racing. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to you. He doesn’t know how you’ll react. But he knows one thing with absolute certainty: he needs to see you.  

His heart pounds in his chest, each beat a reminder of what’s at stake. He grabs his phone, his keys, his bag, and heads for the door, Pierre trailing behind him.  

“Charles,” Pierre calls after him, his tone softer now. “Don’t mess this up.”  

Charles doesn’t respond. He’s already out the door, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: you.  

-

Charles stands in front of your door, his heart pounding in his chest. On the other side is you. You, with your sweet smile that lights up every room. You, with the music he’s come to love because it reminds him of you. You, with all your kindness, your patience, your unwavering love. He hopes that you can forgive him, that you can accept him, that you can love him the way he loves you.  

He knocks on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He holds his breath, his hand trembling as he waits. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one heavier than the last. When the door finally opens, the sight of you hits him like a wave.  

You’re there, standing in the doorway, and for a moment, the world stops. The sight of you feels like the first light of morning breaking through the darkness. It feels like the first sip of a cold drink on a sweltering summer day. It feels like coming home.  

And then, just as quickly, it’s ripped away.  

You slam the door in his face.  

“Y/N,” Charles calls out, his voice desperate, raw. He presses his forehead against the door, his hand flat against the wood as if he can reach through it to you. “Please,” he begs, his voice cracking. “Please open the door.”  

His pleas make your heart ache, the sound of his voice tugging at something deep inside you. Against your better judgment, your feet carry you back to the door. You open it again, and the sight of him is like a punch to the gut.  

Charles looks like he’s walked through hell to get here. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale and drawn. His hair is disheveled, sticking out in every direction, and his clothes are wrinkled, as if he’s been wearing them for days. He looks broken, lost, and utterly exhausted.  

You don’t say a word as you step back, allowing him to enter your home. He walks in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The look he gives you isn’t the one you’ve come to love—the one filled with warmth and affection. This look is different. It’s sad, heavy with regret and pain and loneliness. It’s a look that makes your chest tighten.  

“Y/N,” he says your name softly, so gently it brings tears to your eyes. “I’m sorry.”  

“No,” you say, shaking your head as you turn away from him. “No, no, no.” Your voice breaks, and you wipe at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. “You don’t get to come here and say you’re sorry and expect everything to be forgiven.”  

You turn back to face him, your anger flaring. “You,” you say, pointing at him, your finger jabbing the air with every word as you step closer. “You told me you wouldn’t do this. You told me you wouldn’t make a fool out of me. You told me you wouldn’t let me look like some stupid little girl. You promised me, Charles.”  

Your voice cracks as you say his name, and the tears come harder. Charles doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it feels like he’s trying to hold you together. His warmth, his embrace—it feels like home.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your neck, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”  

You break down completely in his arms, your legs giving out as the weight of everything crashes over you. The two of you sink to the floor in the middle of your living room, Charles holding you as you cry. From the moment you saw the article, this is where you wanted to be—in his arms, safe and loved.  

But he’s not yours. He never was yours. And he will never be yours.  

The thought makes you push away from him, scrambling to your feet. Charles reaches for you instinctively, trying to pull you back, but you’re faster, putting distance between you.  

“What are you doing here, Charles?” you ask, your voice laced with disdain. “Shouldn’t you be with Alex?”  

“Why would I be with her?” he says, his voice steady but pleading. “I want to be with you.”  

He steps closer, his hands cupping your face. You lean into his touch despite yourself, not wanting to lose the warmth of his hands.  

“She’s your girlfriend, Charles,” you say, your voice hollow as you look at him but don’t really see him.  

“I broke it off with her,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re still not putting the pieces together, and Charles doesn’t know if it’s because you’re naive to his feelings or if you just need him to say it out loud.  

But he doesn’t mind. He’ll say it today, tomorrow, next week, next month, or ten years from now if he has to.  

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he says, his voice firm and unwavering. “I am madly in love with you. I don’t want anyone but you.”  

You shake your head, your eyes searching the room as if looking for a camera, for proof that this is just another act. “No, no,” you say, your voice trembling. “If you were in love with me, why did you go out with Alexandra?”  

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was an idiot,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret. “I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, more tears falling from your eyes, this time for a completely different reason.  

“Because I was a coward,” he says, his voice breaking. “And I was weak. But if you’ll have me, I’m yours. Y/N, I am all yours. All of me belongs to you and only you.”  

This boy—this man—who you’ve fallen so deeply in love with is yours. He’s yours for the taking. He’s yours and yours only. He belongs to you.

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

tags: @charlesgirl16 @janeh22

[willowsnook]

in love?

Could you write a leclerc’s brothers love triangle? charles x y/n x arthur? 🤭 from @dovesboccianoifiori

charles leclerc x reader x arthur leclerc

"Are you ready, mon chéri?" Arthur called out from your living room.

"Just about!" you replied, shoving the final things into your suitcase. The two of you were set to leave for Greece on a family vacation for the next week. Running through your mental checklist, you decided that you probably had everything. Lugging your suitcase out to the living room, Arthur smirked at you.

"Pack your whole closet, hmm?" he teased, and you huffed.

"You never know what we might need!"

He laughed and grabbed your suitcase from you, pressing his lips against yours in a quick kiss.

"I forgot to tell you, but Charles is actually coming now," Arthur said, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"I thought he had to be in London with Sarah?" you asked. Sarah was a well-known model who had been dating Charles for about six months now. You didn’t really care for her, finding her to be a bit of an airhead.

"They broke up," Arthur said, and you snorted.

"What reason this time?" you asked. Charles had a string of exes over the past couple of years, and all the relationships ended because of some weird nitpicking excuse he had come up with. One was because he didn’t like the perfume she wore, another had an old picture up on socials of her in a McLaren fit, and so on.

"She’s allergic to dogs," he mused, and you giggled.

In the two years you had been dating Arthur, you had never seen one of Charles’ relationships last longer than six months. It was like he was cursed. You had grown up with the Leclercs, so you knew him very well and never understood why he had such a hard time in relationships. From your perspective, he was quite the catch, and you always wondered how life could have been different if you were with him, though you’d never admit that to anyone.

Loving Arthur had always been easy. It was steady, warm, comforting—like slipping into a well-worn sweater on a cold day. He made you laugh, made you feel safe, made life simple. There was no second-guessing, no whirlwind of emotions that left you breathless.

But Charles—Charles was something else entirely. He was fire and chaos, tension so thick it stole the air from your lungs. With him, nothing was certain. He made you feel seen in a way that scared you, made you question everything you thought you knew about love. You hated how easily he got under your skin, how one look from him sent your pulse racing. And you despised the part of yourself that wanted to lean into that feeling instead of running from it. But you were with Arthur, so none of that mattered.

A half-day of traveling later, you arrived at the villa that the family had rented for the week, and it really was gorgeous. Arthur took your luggage upstairs while you headed to the patio, where everyone was hanging out.

"Y/N!" they cheered as you walked out, and you were enveloped in hugs. Charles stood off to the side, brooding, and you took the chance to chirp him.

"Hi, Charles, getting a dog soon?" you asked, and he rolled his eyes before pulling you into a hug.

"Ha ha, very funny, Y/N," he grumbled, and you beamed. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long, his frown quickly morphing into a soft smile.

As you pulled away from Charles' embrace, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. There was something different in his gaze, a spark you hadn't seen before. You brushed it off, attributing it to your imagination.

The evening progressed with laughter and chatter as the family caught up. You found yourself stealing glances at Charles throughout dinner, noticing how he seemed more relaxed than you'd seen him in years. Without Sarah or any other girlfriend around, he appeared lighter, more like the Charles you grew up with.

Arthur had his arm laid carelessly behind you, and after two glasses of wine, you found yourself nodding off into his shoulder.

"Ready for bed?" he whispered in your ear, and you nodded absentmindedly. Saying your goodnights, you followed him up the stairs and to the room you were sharing.

"Charles seems happy," you commented, and Arthur hummed in agreement.

"I’m just happy we don’t have to spend this vacation with Sarah," he admitted, and you giggled.

"What, you don’t want to spend your time having to explain every joke you make?" you asked in mock offense.

You squealed as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into the bed. Straddling him, you rested your hands on his chest, warmth spreading through your body.

As you gazed down at Arthur, his eyes sparkling with adoration, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Your mind kept drifting back to the way Charles had looked at you earlier. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the man beneath you.

"I love you," Arthur murmured, pulling you down for a kiss.

—-----------------------------------

The next morning, you woke early, the unfamiliar bed and jet lag disrupting your sleep. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Arthur. You made your way downstairs, planning to enjoy a quiet moment on the patio with a cup of coffee.

To your surprise, Charles was already there, nursing his own mug as he stared out at the view.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked softly, joining him at the railing.

He turned to you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not really, too much on my mind."

"I’m sorry to hear about you and Sarah," you said softly, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Don’t be," he said. "It was never serious."

"Seems like no one you date is ever serious," you commented.

He sighed, looking over the waves before speaking again.

"I feel like I’m just waiting to feel that fiery passion about someone, but it never happens," he admitted.

"Do you ever think that maybe love isn’t a fiery passion?" you countered, and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion. "When I think about the love Arthur and I have, it isn’t a fiery passion. It’s stability, it’s a warm embrace, it feels like home."

Charles didn’t say anything at your admission, just gave you a weird look.

"I’m not sure I agree that’s true love," he finally said before heading back inside.

You frowned at his comment. Of course, it was true love. You couldn’t imagine life without Arthur; he was your rock.

—--------------------------------------

Later that morning, Arthur stirred awake, reaching for you, only to find the bed empty. With a groggy sigh, he pulled himself up and ran a hand through his messy hair before heading downstairs, where he found you in the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

"Morning, mon amour," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

"Morning," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace. "I was just thinking we should go explore the town today. Just the two of us."

Arthur perked up at that, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "I like the sound of that. Let’s get ready and head out."

After a quick breakfast, the two of you set off, hand in hand, strolling through the charming cobblestone streets of the Greek town. The sun was warm, but the gentle sea breeze made it comfortable as you wandered past whitewashed buildings with bright blue doors, flower-covered balconies, and quaint little shops.

At a small market square, you stopped to admire the vibrant stalls selling fresh fruit, handmade jewelry, and local crafts. Arthur picked up a delicate bracelet, the beads painted in shades of blue and gold.

"This would look beautiful on you," he mused, gently slipping it onto your wrist.

You smiled, admiring the way it sat against your skin. "It’s perfect."

Before you could protest, Arthur handed the vendor a few bills, grinning. "A souvenir for our trip."

"You really didn't have to," you said, but he just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I'm your boyfriend; spoiling you is in my job description."

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't fight the warmth spreading in your chest.

Continuing your walk, you came across a cozy little café tucked in a corner of the town square. The scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air, and you tugged Arthur inside, settling at a small table with a view of the bustling street.

As you sipped on a cool iced coffee, Arthur reached across the table, brushing his fingers over yours absentmindedly. "You seemed distracted last night," he said softly, watching you closely.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you forced a smile. "Just tired from the trip."

Arthur studied you for a moment, as if deciding whether to believe you, but eventually, he let it go.

After finishing your drinks, you spent the rest of the afternoon exploring hidden alleyways, stopping to take pictures, and making each other laugh with inside jokes. Arthur never let go of your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin as you wandered.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town, you and Arthur found yourselves sitting on a stone ledge overlooking the sea.

"This has been the perfect day," you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder.

Arthur pressed a kiss to your hair. "Every day with you is perfect."

For a moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself drown in Arthur’s warmth, in the steady, familiar love he gave you.

But then your mind wandered back to the morning. To Charles. To the way he looked at you. To the way his words lingered in your mind, unsettling you in a way you couldn't quite explain.

And that’s when you realized—something had shifted.

When you got back to the villa, Arthur headed upstairs, saying that he was exhausted. Charles had seemed to just get back from dinner with some friends he knew in town and ran into you in the kitchen.

“Heading to bed?” he asked.

“I’d rather not, I’m not that tired,” you replied.

“Late-night beach walk then,” he suggested, and you found yourself nodding. He was your friend, and this was normal. You and Charles had done plenty of things alone before, this was no different.

The two of you set out, walking along the water and chatting about the day’s events. Lost in conversation, you missed a small hole a kid had dug into the sand and stumbled forward. Charles' arms shot out to grab you, safely pulling you into his chest.

As you stood there, pressed against Charles' chest, time seemed to slow. His arms were still wrapped around you, strong and secure. You could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of his cologne. Your heart began to race, and you found yourself unable to look away from his intense gaze.

"Are you alright?" Charles asked softly, his voice low and concerned.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You should step away, you knew that. But something kept you rooted to the spot, lost in the depths of Charles' eyes.

He made no move to let you go either. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist where he held you, sending a shiver down your spine. The air between you felt charged, electric with unspoken tension.

"Y/N," Charles murmured, his face inching closer to yours.

Your breath caught as you stood frozen, but Charles snapped out of whatever he was thinking, quickly letting go of you. The walk back was silent, but Charles stopped you before you turned toward the house.

“You are going to hurt him,” he said suddenly, and you turned to him, a confused look on your face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Arthur,” he said, clearing his throat. “You don’t love him, not really.”

“Is this because of our conversation earlier?” you asked, irritation filling your voice. “I love your brother, nothing is going to change that.”

“Of course, you love him,” Charles said. “You love him as much as you love Lorenzo and Pascale, but you aren’t in love with him.”

You flinched back like you’d been slapped. “How dare you? You don’t know anything.”

He scoffed, looking up at the house. “I’ve watched you these past couple of months. I notice how you are toward him, and honestly, how he is toward you. You treat each other as if you’re just best friends who stumbled into a relationship.”

“We are best friends,” you seethed. “What the fuck are you talking about, Charles? Watching me? Like you have been this whole trip? You don’t think I noticed? What, so I can be your next six-month conquest? Someone you can collect?”

His jaw clenched at your words as he took another step toward you.

Charles' eyes darkened, his expression shifting into something unreadable. His voice, when he finally spoke, was laced with frustration.

"Is that what you think of me?" he bit out. "That I'm some selfish asshole who just goes through women for fun?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "I don't have to think it, Charles. Your track record speaks for itself."

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue—but then, something in him snapped.

"You know what? Maybe I do go through relationships too fast. Maybe I haven't found the right person yet. But at least I’m not lying to myself about being in love when I'm not."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Screw you, Charles."

He leaned in, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "You don't get it, do you? One day, you're going to wake up and realize that Arthur was just the safe choice. The easy choice. And by then, it'll be too late."

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flared through your body—not from attraction, but from sheer, unbridled rage. Before you even processed what you were doing, your hand flew up and cracked across his cheek.

The sharp sound of the slap echoed between you. Charles’ head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening as his skin flushed red where your palm had connected.

A heavy silence fell. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared at him, your hand still tingling.

He turned back to you slowly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, his expression unreadable.

"You done?" he murmured, voice rough.

Your fingers trembled at your sides, anger and something dangerously close to regret warring inside you.

"Go to hell, Charles," you spat before storming past him, heading toward the house.

You didn't look back.

But you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

—---------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Arthur asked you, worried. You had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole morning.

“Yeah, just sad we’re leaving,” you lied, forcing a small smile on your face. Last night felt like an open wound, and the faster you could get out of here, the better. Following Arthur downstairs with your stuff, you joined the family in saying goodbye to one another as everyone departed back home. When Charles didn’t say goodbye to Arthur, just motioned for him to load his bags in, a sense of dread overcame you.

Since you all lived in Monaco, naturally, you’d be taking Charles’ private jet back.

Arthur chatted about the trip the whole way to the airport, getting minimal responses from both you and Charles, but he didn’t seem to notice. As you boarded, Arthur sat across from his brother, and you moved past the two, choosing to sit at the front of the plane.

“Mon chéri?” Arthur called out. “Why are you sitting over there?”

You gave him a fake smile, “I want to read my book, and your talking will distract me.”

You tried to sound teasing but knew you fell flat. Arthur looked at his brother, but Charles refused to meet his eyes, looking out the window instead. True to your word, you spent the rest of the flight reading and were relieved when you landed.

Arthur said goodbye to Charles, and you prepared to play pretend, but Charles looked at you for three seconds before turning and getting into his car without a word. You stared after him, hurt written all over your features, which didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. He didn’t say anything, but it gave him something to think about.

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

The next couple of weeks were weird. You and Arthur fell back into your normal routine and social calendar, but it felt like there was a new distance between you. You noticed yourself pulling away from him a little bit, and his nonchalance about it threatened to confirm what Charles had said.

It was Friday night, and the two of you had just gotten back from dinner with your friends, Arthur following you to your apartment.

“Have a drink with me on the balcony?” he asked, almost nervously.

“Sure,” you replied, going to grab two wine glasses from the cabinets and filling them with a new bottle you had just bought. You met him outside, and he was quiet, contemplative, as he gazed out at the skyline. You handed Arthur his glass and took a sip of your own, leaning against the railing beside him. The night was warm, a soft breeze brushing against your skin, but the weight in your chest made it hard to enjoy. Arthur was never this quiet.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was careful, measured, like he was picking his words delicately. “About us.”

Your fingers tightened around the stem of your glass. You knew this was coming. You had felt it in the way his touch had grown less frequent, in the way your conversations had started to feel like those of two friends catching up rather than lovers sharing their lives.

“Yeah?” you prompted, keeping your voice steady.

He turned to look at you, his brown eyes filled with something like fondness—soft, but resolute. “I think we both know this isn’t working the way it should.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way you expected. There was no sharp pain, no suffocating grief. Just a slow, aching realization that he was right.

You swallowed, setting your glass down on the small table beside you. “Arthur, I—”

“You don’t have to say it,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve known for a while now.” He exhaled, shaking his head with a small, wistful smile. “You know when I knew for sure?”

You stayed silent, waiting.

“That day we got back. When Charles walked away from you without saying goodbye.” His voice was steady, but there was something sad in his expression. “I saw the way you looked at him, like he had just taken the air right out of your lungs.” He gave a small, dry chuckle. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to protest, to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because he was right.

“Arthur, I love you,” you said, and you meant it. Just not in the way you were supposed to.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I love you too. But not the way we should.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but they weren’t from heartbreak. They were from the quiet, bittersweet truth settling between you.

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re my best friend. And I don’t want to lose that.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears. “Me neither.”

Arthur smiled then, small but sincere. “Then let’s not.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, sipping your wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The transition from dating back to friends was so simple that it was confirmation that it was the right thing. You still hung out with Arthur and your other friends weekly, but it felt easier, like you weren’t pretending any longer. You knew Arthur had told Charles, and he had tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. Your fight in Greece was still fresh on your mind. With the F1 season in full swing, you never saw him at family dinners either, which was okay with you.

You took the month after the breakup to fall back in love with yourself, picking up new hobbies and going on weekend trips alone or with other friends. That one month turned to a few, and it wasn’t until after the season was over that you saw Charles again.

The Leclercs had invited your family to their annual holiday party, and this time for sure you knew he was going to be there.

“Are you nervous?” Arthur asked, scrolling through his phone, lounging on your bed while you got ready.

“Why would I be nervous?” you asked, not even bothering to look away from the mirror. You could feel his eyes roll.

“First time seeing Charles since Greece,” he commented.

“Shouldn’t this be weird for you?” you questioned. “We dated for two years, or have you already forgotten?”

“I try to forget,” he shot back with a cheeky smile. You huffed, but a smile broke through on your face as you laid against him on your bed.

“I want you to be happy,” he said softly.

“I am happy,” you insisted. “Your brother is a pain in my ass.”

“He has a right to be. I kept him away from you for two years.”

“You were exactly who I needed to be with during that time,” you said honestly. He pressed his lips against your forehead in response before pulling you off the bed.

“Time to see if you were worth the wait,” he smirked, and you shoved him into the wall, ignoring his complaints.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived, and Arthur immediately peeled off, looking for Lorenzo. You greeted your family, chatting with your parents for a bit before you saw him.

Charles stood across the room, laughing with a group of friends. He looked devastatingly handsome in a dark suit, his hair perfectly styled. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes met yours over the crowd. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you held each other's gaze.

Then he was moving toward you, excusing himself from his group. You felt rooted to the spot, unable to look away as he approached.

"Y/N," he said softly when he reached you. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Can we talk? Somewhere private?"

You nodded, following him as he led you out to a secluded patio. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the warmth of the party inside.

“You came with Arthur?” he said, almost like a question, and you nodded.

“He’s still my best friend, Charles,” you said, amused.

Charles nodded, a hint of relief visible in his eyes. "I'm glad. I was worried things might be awkward between you two."

"It was at first," you admitted. "But we realized our friendship was too important to lose."

He took a step closer to you, his voice softening. "And what about us? Is our friendship too important to lose?"

You felt your heart rate quicken at his proximity. "I don't know, Charles. You said some pretty hurtful things in Greece."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry. I was frustrated and jealous, and I lashed out. But I meant what I said about you and Arthur not being right for each other."

"You were right," you conceded quietly. "But that doesn't mean there's anything between us."

Charles' eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He reached his hand up to your face, brushing his fingers along your cheek as he cupped your jaw. Your breath hitched at his touch, and you felt yourself subconsciously melt into him.

“Now tell me, mi amor,” he whispered. “That there isn’t anything between us.”

“Th-there isn’t anything between us,” you stuttered out, and he grinned, knowing he had you. His hand moved to the back of your head with a tighter grip, and he brought his face down, his nose almost touching yours.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, lips lightly brushing against yours.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest as Charles' lips hovered just millimeters from yours. The tension between you was electric, crackling in the air like static. You knew you should pull away, but every fiber of your being was screaming for you to close that final gap.

"Charles," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a vulnerability there too—a question.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't feel this too, and I'll walk away right now."

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. How could you deny what was so glaringly obvious? The electricity between you, the way your body responded to his touch, the longing that had been building for years—it was all laid bare in this moment.

Instead of speaking, you found yourself leaning in, closing that last sliver of space between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was both soft and urgent. Charles responded immediately, one hand cupping your face while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss deepened, years of pent-up passion pouring out. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue swept into your mouth, igniting a fire that spread through your entire body. You gasped against his lips, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Charles rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

“This doesn’t mean anything is changing right now,” you said once you caught your breath. “I’ve just learned how to be independent again. I don’t want to lose it.”

“That’s fine, mon chéri,” he said genuinely. “I’ve waited a long time for you. What’s a little longer?”

He led you back inside, his hand glued to the small of your back as you rejoined Arthur, who was talking to Lorenzo. Arthur gave you an “I told you so” smirk while Lorenzo’s eyes widened at Charles' hand.

“Damn, when do I get my turn with you?” he joked, and Charles glared at him while you and Arthur laughed.

“Never,” Charles said.

[goldenhazelnut]

En Pointe || Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc had always appreciated the electric hum of Monte Carlo’s nightlife. The city’s glittering skyline, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the rhythm of deep house music were a familiar backdrop. Yet, tonight, his mind was elsewhere as he wandered into a discreet, high-end club tucked away on a quiet corner of the principality.

He wasn’t a regular here, but the place had a reputation for its elegance and exclusivity, far from the clichés of a smoky dive. The club’s atmosphere was dimly lit, sleek, and intimate, with a stage in the center of the room that seemed almost magnetic in its pull.

The moment the spotlight lit up the stage, Charles froze. She was there again—the pole dancer.

She moved with a grace he’d never seen before, her body flowing like liquid gold under the spotlight. Her routine wasn’t just a performance; it was art. Strength, poise, and elegance combined into something breathtaking. He recognized her instantly. He’d seen her a few times before—once at a private event and again through a chance visit with friends. Each time, her presence left an indelible mark on his mind.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light as she twirled effortlessly, every movement precise yet ethereal. Her confidence wasn’t arrogance; it was quiet power. And the way she smiled at the audience—not coy, but genuine—made her seem untouchable yet entirely real.

Charles’s pulse quickened as she moved. There was something magnetic about her, something beyond her beauty. It was her focus, her artistry. She performed as though no one else in the room existed, completely immersed in her world. And, for a moment, Charles wished he could be a part of it.

When her performance ended, the audience erupted into applause, but Charles remained seated, rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes away.

For the next hour, he barely heard the conversations at his table. His friends nudged him, teased him, but he didn’t care. He was still replaying the performance in his head, the way she made him feel—like time had stopped.

When the crowd thinned out, he found himself wandering toward the bar. His thoughts raced. He wasn’t the type to interrupt someone’s evening, but tonight, he felt compelled. Then he saw her—standing by the bar, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she chatted with the bartender. She was out of her stage outfit, dressed casually in jeans and a black tank top, her hair tied back.

He hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest. He was Charles Leclerc—confident on the track but suddenly unsure here. Gathering his courage, he approached.

“Hi,” he started, his voice softer than usual.

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his. They were warm, curious.

“Hi,” she replied, her smile lighting up her face.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, a rare sign of nervousness. “I’ve seen you perform a few times. You’re incredible.”

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He introduced himself, though he didn’t need to. She chuckled softly. “I know who you are, Charles. Monte Carlo isn’t that big.”

He laughed, relieved by her easy demeanor. “Fair point. But I don’t know your name.”

“Lena,” she offered, extending her hand.

Her grip was firm, her touch sending a spark through him. They talked—first about her performances, then about their lives. He learned she had a background in ballet but fell in love with pole dancing for the freedom it gave her. She spoke with passion, her eyes lighting up with every word.

Time slipped away as they talked, and for the first time in a long while, Charles felt like he was truly connecting with someone beyond the surface. There was no pretense, no fame, just two people sharing a moment.

As the night wore on, he found himself smiling more than he had in weeks.

When it was time to leave, he hesitated. “Would it be okay if I saw you again?”

She looked at him for a moment, her gaze searching his face. Then she smiled. “I think I’d like that, Charles.”

And just like that, under the soft glow of the club’s lights, something began—a connection as electric as the city itself.

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

────୨ৎ────

PART 1

────୨ৎ────

prev

────୨ৎ────

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

this is just the start! coming chapters will be longer.

────୨ৎ────

Ahaana Patel was an enigma wrapped in stardom. She’d emerged onto the Bollywood scene with a debut that was nothing short of explosive, pro shaking up the industry and catapulting herself into the hearts of millions. She featured in a movie of one of the most celebrated Indian directors, Karan Johar, alongside her costars Varun Dhawan and Sidharth Malhotra, and hasn't looked back since. It was a journey no one, least of all her academically fixated parents in Ahmedabad, could have foreseen. From their meticulously structured plans of engineering degrees and Ivy League aspirations to the glitzy chaos of movie premieres and magazine covers, her story was the epitome of unpredictability.

Now, twelve years later, Ahaana strode confidently through the paddock of the Chinese Formula One Grand Prix. Her steps were light, but her presence was impossible to ignore. The roar of engines, the sharp tang of gasoline, and the relentless buzz of the crowd enveloped her in a world she had come to know well over the years.

Dressed in attire that matched the casual coolness of the paddock air, a fitted white top and denim skirt. Her hair, perfectly styled despite the chaos of travel, swayed gently as she moved, her signature smile lighting up the faces of everyone she passed.

The first race of the 2024 season was underway, and the paddock was a symphony of excitement. Engineers tinkered with machines that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime, journalists scrambled for the perfect soundbite, and VIP guests mingled in their designer ensembles, trying to look like they belonged. Ahaana, however, didn’t need to try—she was a natural here.

“Ahi!”

The familiar Dutch accent cut through the cacophony, and Ahaana turned, her eyes narrowing playfully as Max Verstappen approached. Helmet in hand, the reigning world champion exuded confidence. His movements were deliberate, his gaze sharp, but the moment he saw Ahaana, his expression softened ever so slightly.

“Max,” she greeted, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Are you ready to win, or should I start drafting my consolation speech now?”

Max rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your faith in me is touching. Truly inspiring. Maybe you should stick to Bollywood instead of doubting world champions.”

“And miss this circus?” Ahaana gestured grandly at the bustling paddock around them. “Not a chance.”

Their bond was one of playful banter and unspoken trust, forged in the early days of her association with Red Bull. At first, their interactions had been fraught with the awkwardness of two young professionals forced into photoshoots and promotional events. But as time passed, they found common ground in their shared struggles—both carried the weight of their fathers’ expectations and both were determined to carve their own paths. What began as reluctant camaraderie soon blossomed into a sibling-like relationship. Max truly saw Ahaana as a little sister, and always would.

“Where’s Kelly?” Ahaana asked, scanning the crowd for Max’s girlfriend.

“She’s around,” Max replied, shrugging. “Probably hunting you down.”

As if on cue, Kelly Piquet appeared, her presence as radiant as ever. Spotting Ahaana, she broke into a wide grin and pulled her into a warm hug. “Ahaana! I didn’t know you were coming today. Otherwise, I’d have brought P—she misses you.”

Ahaana beamed. “I miss her too. We’re calling her as soon as these boys start driving their toy cars.”

“Toy cars?” Max echoed, feigning offense.

Before Ahaana could retort, another familiar voice joined the fray.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Red Bull’s golden girl.”

Ahaana turned to see Lando Norris, the ever-charming McLaren driver, strolling toward them. His grin was as cheeky as ever, his orange, oh sorry papaya, jacket standing out starkly against the sea of Red Bull merch.

“Lando,” Ahaana greeted with mock disdain. “Lost your way from all the oranges. Here let me show you, its that garage with a mark that looks like a disfigured comma.”

“It’s papaya and you know it. You’re obsessed with me , aren’t you?” Lando shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Admit it—you came all the way here just to see me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Couldn’t resist the charm of McLaren’s poster boy.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with both of you.”

The banter continued until race preparations called for Max and Lando’s attention. Kelly and Ahaana waved them off, heading toward the lounge.

The race was a spectacle, with Max clinching victory and Lando following closely behind in P2. The podium celebrations were a blur of champagne showers and roaring applause, but the real festivities began that evening.

The group—Max, Kelly, Lando, Carlos Sainz, Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, and Ahaana—found themselves in a luxurious nightclub, the VIP section buzzing with energy. Neon lights danced across the room, the bass of the music reverberating through their bodies.

“Did you hear?” Rebecca leaned closer to Kelly and Ahaana, her voice conspiratorial. “Apparently, Alex cheated on Charles.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”

Ahaana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How do you know?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Apparently, Charles tried to break up with her, but she keeps avoiding the conversation.”

“Classic denial,” Ahaana remarked, sipping her drink.

Kelly shook her head. “Why doesn’t he just cut her off?”

“He wants a clean break,” Rebecca explained. “But Alex is… persistent.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on. Lando, ever the photographer, took candid shots of the group, earning playful protests from his friends.

By 3 A.M., the nightclub was still alive with energy, but Ahaana needed a breather. She stepped out onto a balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat inside. The city lights stretched out before her, their glow reflected in the glass of the towering buildings.

She wasn’t alone for long.

“Hey, Ferrari,” she said, spotting Charles Leclerc leaning against the railing, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Charles glanced at her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Ahaana replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But you looked like you could use some company.”

Charles chuckled softly, though the melancholy in his eyes remained. “Maybe I do.”

Ahaana joined him at the railing, their gazes fixed on the cityscape. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them comfortable.

“Rough night?” Ahaana asked eventually.

Charles hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”

Ahaana studied him, her expression thoughtful. “You know, brooding doesn’t suit you. You should try smiling—it might just solve all your problems.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone light. “But if you’re not ready to smile yet, I’ll settle for a drink.”

Charles handed her his glass without a word. She accepted it, taking a small sip before handing it back.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Charles looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. The neon lights from the club painted her features in hues of pink and blue, her hair catching the faint breeze. There was something about her—an effortless charm, a warmth that drew people in.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Ahaana,” she replied, extending a hand.

Charles took it, his grip firm but gentle. “Charles.”

“I know,” Ahaana said with a grin. “You ready to party now, Red?”

Charles chuckled, a genuine laugh this time, and downed the rest of his drink. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, the night took on a new energy, two strangers finding unexpected companionship amidst the chaos of flashing lights and thundering music.

────୨ৎ────

ᝰ.ᐟ first part! i know this isn't much, but i plan on writing more and this is just the start. i hope you aren't freaked out by the rather rustic writing and keep reading the chapters to come!

────୨ৎ────

tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf

comment to be added to taglist

────୨ৎ────

next

────୨ৎ────

© weekendlusting

────୨ৎ────

[loafysainz]

can i please request a story where carlos or charles is sick and reader looks after him

BIG BABY | CL 16

charles leclerc × fem!reader

no warn

thank you for the req & hope you like it sender! 🤍

The moment Charles steps into the hotel room, you can tell something’s off. He barely makes it past the door before he slumps against you, his entire body weight pressing into your side.

“Hey,” you frown, adjusting your arms to support him better. “What’s wrong?”

He hums, barely opening his eyes. “M’just tired.”

But the way he leans into you feels different—like he’s melting, like he needs you to keep him upright. Your hand instinctively finds his forehead, and your heart drops.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, eyes widening. “You’re burning up, Charles.”

He just groans in response, burying his face into your shoulder like a sleepy child.

“Okay, baby, let’s get you to bed,” you whisper, guiding him toward the mattress as gently as possible. He follows easily, limbs heavy, breath warm against your neck.

The second he’s down, he reaches for you, fingers curling weakly around your wrist. “Don’t go.”

You smile softly, tucking his hair back. “I just need to get you some medicine, love.”

“No,” he mumbles, voice hoarse. “Stay.”

You sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I promise I’ll be right back, okay? Just two seconds.”

He pouts, looking heartbreakingly miserable, but lets you go—only for his head to snap up the second you step away. “Wait—”

You pause. “Baby, I need to get you medicine and a cold towel.”

He groans dramatically, flopping onto his back. “You hate me.”

A soft laugh escapes you. “I love you, actually. Which is why I need to help you feel better.”

He huffs, clearly not convinced, but doesn’t argue when you disappear into the bathroom. When you return, he immediately tugs you back down onto the bed, arms wrapping around your waist, body radiating heat.

“You’re like a human heater system,” you tease, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. He only grumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

“I feel terrible,” he mumbles.

“I know, baby.” You stroke his hair, voice soft and soothing. “That’s why you need to take your medicine.”

He shakes his head, still clinging onto you. “Later.”

“Charles.”

“No.”

You let out an exasperated sigh but don’t push him. Instead, you adjust your position so he’s fully tucked into your side, your fingers tracing gentle patterns against his back.

“Just rest for now, baby,” you murmur. “I’m right here.”

He sighs, content but still pouty. “You always take care of me.”

“Of course I do.” You press another kiss to his hair. “Because I love you.”

He hums sleepily, grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Even when his breathing slows, his fever making him drift in and out of consciousness, he refuses to let go.

And every time you shift, trying to grab your phone or adjust the blanket, he immediately stirs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you whisper, smiling at how absurdly clingy he is.

“Good.” His voice is barely audible, but the way he relaxes against you tells you he’s satisfied.

And if he wakes up two hours later, still feverish but now extra stubborn, whining about how you can’t leave even for a second—well, that’s just part of loving Charles Leclerc.

[katelovesit]

dream blunt rotation except i’m the blunt