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sebscore · 1 year

Note

Omg LL idea!!! Him bringing her up on the podium with him in his karting days🤭 He is in like the teenage “inchident” years, and he wins a race that LL attended with the family, and he beckons her over and onto it with him in her cute little summer dress, adorable!!

A DAY AT THE RACES

pairing: leclerc family x leclerc!reader (+ gasly fam cameo)

warnings: toddler tantrum. crying.

author's note: toddler leclerc is back!! huge shoutout to @champomiel for making me obsessed with a baby little leclerc :))) and also thank you to each person who send in a request regarding baby leclerc!!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''When Charles drives by, you have to yell his name very loudly, okay?'' Pascale told the toddler in Lorenzo's arms, smiling as she saw her daughter respond enthusiastically.

Her older brother nodded to their mother's words. ''Yeah, you have to scream ''Go Charles!'' so he can hear you.'' He added.

The young girl nodded to their words, all her attention back on the track in front of them. It was her first time at Charles' karting race- or at least the first time she was consciously experiencing it.

Y/N was still only a toddler so everything is still quite sensitive to her, like the loud sounds of the kart engines. Pascale had taken several ear-protective gear with her, hoping her youngest wouldn't throw a tantrum like Arthur and Charles used to do at the F1 races when they were her age.

''There he is!'' Hervé exclaimed, grabbing his family's attention. ''Allez, Charles! Keep going! Come on, Charles!'' The man cheered his son on from behind the fences.

The young teenagers cruise by in their karts, the place drowned in applause and noises from their family and friends as they pass the crowd. The sudden booming voices caused Y/N to get distracted and glance around her instead of screaming for her brother, who was running in first place.

The toddler whimpered as she glanced back at the track and saw that all the small cars were gone. ''I missed Charlie.'' She sniffled, which rapidly turned into bawling.

The Leclerc family's focus turned from Charles' P1 to the youngest's sobbing. ''What's wrong, bébé? Do your ears hurt?'' Pascale's impression was that the combination of the loud cheers and engines were too much for the little one's ears.

Y/N frantically shook her head, making Lorenzo tighten his hold on her. ''I missed Charlie! I didn't say ''Go Charles'', Maman!'' She whined to her mother, calming Pascale's worries that her daughter wasn't in physical pain.

''It's okay, it's okay! Don't worry about it, chérie.'' Hervé attempted to comfort her, endeared by the girl's concern for not cheering her older brother on.

Her father's words didn't seem to have any effect on her and she kept crying her eyes out. She reached for the headphones on her head, trying to get them off her head- too much stimulation around her at the moment.

''Wow! Be careful, you have to keep those on.'' Lorenzo gently scolded her, with Hervé stopping her and keeping the headphones on her head.

''No! They're too heavy!'' Y/N continued whining, struggling to take them off.

Pascale watched on, navigating on what she should do as her daughter carried on with her adorable yet frustrating temper tantrum. ''Chérie, take her with you to the finish line.'' She instructed her husband, pointing to where the person with the chequered flag was waiting.

Hervé nodded at her, releasing her from Lorenzo's arms. The small girl continued shedding tears, but nestled in her father's arms. ''We're gonna see Charles, okay?'' He asked her, smiling down at her as he walked away from their family members.

Y/N timidly shook her head up and down, loudly sniffing her stuffy nose. ''Is Cha gonna be angry at me, Papa?''

Her father frowned at her question. ''Why would he be angry with you, bébé?''

''Because I didn't yell for him, and Lolo and Maman told me to yell for him when he passed us.'' In her mind, her older brother would be upset that she didn't cheer him on.

The man chuckled, the innocence of his daughter's explanation warming his heart. ''Charles is not angry with you. He knows you're his biggest supporter! We're gonna wait for him at the finish line so you can be the first one to give him a hug.'' Her father told her.

His assurance that her brother wasn't cross with her, making her stop crying and let out a small smile on her lips. ''Did he win?''

''He is currently in first place and Pierre is right behind him so we'll see when he finishes the race.'' Hervé responded to her, giving the side of her head a kiss.

The pair arrived at the busy part of the track, somehow making it to the front of the fence so they could watch Charles take the chequered flag. ''Make sure you keep your headphones on, bébé- we don't want your ears to hurt.'' He adjusted the gear on her head.

''Okay, Papa.'' Y/N politely answered, not having a problem with the headphones anymore. ''When does Charles stop driving?'' She asked him, not seeming to have much patience.

''A few more laps around the track and he's done.'' They had only brought her to the side of the track towards the end of the race, her parents knowing she would otherwise be sleeping through the whole thing and be upset that she missed it.

The sounds of the engines became slowly louder and louder, indicating the drivers were passing by again. ''He's coming again, Y/N- make sure to yell for him.'' Her father signalled to her.

This time, the toddler only held her focus on the track, screaming her brother's name as soon as he came into her sight. Hervé and the people around them laughed at the little girl's small voice, finding it adorable as she was the only one screaming for a few seconds.

''Go, Charles!'' Y/N and her father chorused, cheering on Charles who was still in first position. She rested her face in his neck, having grown shy by her own yelling.

A few laps later, her brother was the first one to cross the finish line and win the race, with Pierre coming in second behind him.

Y/N started fussing in her father's arms, wanting to go to Charles and give him a hug. Hervé chuckled at her excitement, but told her to wait until he got out of his kart, and took off his helmet. Pierre's father, Jean-Jacques, joined them, pinching the little girl's cheeks and giving Hervé a handshake. ''Good race.'' He concluded, giving them a nod.

''A nice battle between them today.'' Hervé confirmed, satisfied with the results and the performances of the two young boys.

The toddler tugged on his shirt. ''Papa, can I go to Charles now?'' She whined, not a fan of how long it seemed to be taking.

The two men chuckled at her impatience. Her father glanced at his son and saw that Charles had already climbed out of his kart, and was in the process of removing the helmet off his head.

''Charles!'' Hervé called for the young boy, waving his free arm at him. The winner of the day spotted his father and sister, his smile becoming wider at the sight of his family.

Charles tapped Pierre's arm, pointing to his own father. The two boys made their way over still in full adrenaline from the race and their podium finishes. Once they were close enough, Hervé put his daughter down and gave her a light push towards them.

Y/N jumped over to her brother, her arms already spread. Charles got the message and took a big extra step, embracing his sister and easily picking her up. ''Cha, I yelled for you! Did you hear me?'' She asked him, her arms firmly around him.

''Yeah, you were very loud!'' He replied, pretending that he had heard her through all the noise even though he hadn't.

''You were super fast! You went like zoom~'' The little girl imitated the sound of the karts, making both Charles and Pierre laugh.

''We are supposed to go zoom~'' The French boy impersonated her.

''Good job, boys! Nicely done, Charles!'' Hervé praised them as they made their way back to where they had been waiting. The rest of their families had also found them and gathered together.

Charles put his sister down so he could give everyone a hug of his own. After Pascale embraced her son and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, she motioned for Y/N to come to her. ''You gave your brother a hug?'' She said to her daughter as she lifted the girl up.

''Yes, I was the first one.'' She proudly told her mother, hugging her neck.

Pascale grinned, relieved her husband was able to calm the girl down. ''Wow! The first one? That's great, chérie.''

A tap on Pascale's leg brought her attention from her daughter to her youngest son. ''Maman, can I have ice-cream now?'' Arthur asked her, a pout present on his face.

''I want ice-cream too!'' Y/N exclaimed upon hearing her brother's question.

The woman put her daughter down, next to Arthur. ''We're going to eat with Pierre's family after the boys get their trophies. You can get ice-cream as dessert.'' She explained to them.

''But I want it now!'' Arthur continued.

''You're gonna have to wait, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told his little brother, chuckling at his impatience.

The young man noticed the Gasly family, his father and Charles moving to where the trophy ceremony would take place. He glanced at his little siblings. ''Cha is getting his trophy, come on!''

Arthur listened to his older brother's words and grabbed his sister's small hand, guiding her to the podium as they walked next to Pascale and Lorenzo. The mother and son duo swooned at the sight of Arthur acting like an older sibling to the young girl.

''Why do you walk so slow, Y/N? You have to go faster.'' The boy complained, having to reduce his speed so his sister could catch up.

Lorenzo chuckled. ''She has small legs, Tutur! Go at her pace.'' He reminded his little brother.

''That's not my fault.'' Arthur answered, matter-of-factly. He kept walking at his pace, ignoring his sister practically running to stay next to him.

''Thur!'' Lorenzo stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. The older one then focused on the toddler and picked her up, not wanting her to grow tired from simply walking. ''Alright, let's go.''

The podium ceremony wasn't something too extravagant. They called out the names of the top three and handed the winners their trophies, often with some flowers as well.

As the families waited for the presentations to start, Charles grabbed his dad's attention. ''What is it, Cha?'' He asked his son.

''Can I bring Y/N with me on the podium?''

Charles had done it countless times when Arthur was younger and he had seen many other winners bring their siblings up on the podium with them- he wanted to include his little sister somehow.

Hervé smiled, touched by his son's sentiment. ''That's okay with me, but ask your mother to be sure.'' He knew Pascale wouldn't have a problem with it, but he didn't want to surprise his wife with Charles suddenly taking their daughter with him.

Upon hearing his father's answer, Charles walked over to his mother. ''Maman,'' he tapped her waist, having her bow down to be on the same level as him, ''can I bring Y/N with me on the podium? Papa says it's okay.''

Pascale glanced at her daughter for a few seconds, checking if she still had energy left. ''Of course, but be careful, okay? She's small.'' She agreed, nodding at Hervé who was looking at them.

''Thank you.'' Charles thanked her, skipping back to his father.

The mother of the family approached her oldest and youngest child, gently grabbing his shoulder. ''Ma petite, Cha wants to take you on the podium with him. Isn't that fun?''

The youngest's mouth made an o-shape, bewildered by the news. ''Really? Wow!''

''Yes! So let's put you down.'' Lorenzo kneeled, letting his little sister stand on her own two feet. As soon as she was stable on the ground, she ran off to Charles.

''Cha Cha!'' Y/N exclaimed, catching her brother's attention. ''I'm going on podium with you.''

''I know! Just follow me, okay? I'll help you.'' He told her, not wanting her to get distracted and do something she shouldn't do.

''Okay!'' She gave her brother a thumbs up with a bright smile.

It didn't take long for the various ceremonies to start, but the Leclerc Family had to wait until the end since Charles participated in the oldest age category at the competition.

''In second place, we have Pierre Gasly of France! Well done, Pierre!'' The presenter said into the microphone, inviting the French boy onto the podium.

The family clapped for him as he strutted over to the second step, accepting the trophy and flowers he was handed.

''And our winner of the day is Charles Leclerc of Monaco! Congratulations, Charles!''

The race winner grabbed his sister's hand, and unlike Arthur, walked on her pace to the podium so she wouldn't have to run next to him. He momentarily let go of her hand as the presenter handed over his trophy and flowers. Charles gave the trophy to Y/N, being less heavy than the bouquet of flowers.

Charles stepped onto the top step with ease, meanwhile his baby sister struggled with her small legs to even get onto the third step.

Pierre immediately noticed. He placed his trophy and flowers on the ground, and signalled to the girl to walk over to him. He picked her up and placed her next to Charles, who thanked his friend for helping his sister out.

The Monégasque crouched down. ''Y/N, look at Maman.'' Charles pointed at their mother, who had a big smile on her face as she held her camera. Upon seeing Pascale smile, Little Leclerc mirrored her mother's expression- proud of the trophy she was holding, despite it being her brother's.

The rest of the family watched on fondly, the sight of the small girl swooning everyone. ''She's going to steal that trophy from his room.'' Lorenzo told Hervé, chuckling at the way his baby sibling was holding onto the plastic prize.

''Charles will let her.'' The patriarch grinned, knowing his son would take the trophy away from her.

After a few minutes of posing for pictures, the ceremony was done and they made their way back to their families.

''Pierre, you are a gentleman.'' Pascale complimented the young boy, ruffling his hair.

He shyly glanced down at the praise. ''No problem.'' Pierre brushed off, his mother pinching his reddened cheek.

The giddy toddler jumped in Lorenzo's arms, still a strong hold on Charles's trophy. ''Look what Cha gave me, Lolo.'' She showed the prize off to her brother.

''Wow! You have a trophy? How cool!'' Lorenzo told her, excitedly.

''Can we get ice-cream now, please?'' Arthur whined, having everyone look at the young boy. There was an adorable, impatient tone to his voice, making both families smile at him.

The parents all glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement that they should start packing up, and go have dinner.

''I'm going to get 5 scoops!'' Arthur declared.

''I'm going to get 6 then!'' His sister one-upped him, mischief written all over her face.

''Y/N gets 2. Arthur gets 3, and Charles and Pierre will get to choose since they got a podium together.'' Hervé stated, chuckling at his two youngest's disappointed faces.

The little girl huffed. ''But Papa, I want 6!''

''You're like 6 scoops tall, how are you gonna eat all of that?''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #lorenzo leclerc x reader #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 imagines #f1 oc

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Note

Hey! Can I request prompt #1 with Charles Leclerc? Like I can totally see him being a little confused and goofy in a steamy situation lol

seduction gone wrong - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: in where charles tried to seduce you and it goes horribly wrong

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut with a plot, p in v (wrap it before you tap it, kids), oral (f. and m. receiving), alcohol drinking, some blood (-play idk), aftercare, minors dni, thank you :)

prompt: „do you want me to seduce you?“

note: sorry love, that you had to wait so long for your request, but here it is, hope you like it

and omg, thank you so much for 500 followers, i never thought i would reach that many people with my silly little stories. i am forever grateful for all of you, i mean it! <3

masterlist/ taglist / prompt list

It was a long day and you were tired, unbelievable tired. Everything sucked and nothing went the way you wanted it to. You just wanted to come home and have a good time with Charles, your boyfriend.

Your neck ached, your back hurt and all you wished for was a massage and an orgasm. But Charles, the man he was, didn’t really understand your wish.

You opened the door and smelled the food Charles probably ordered. He knew how to cook but mostly opted to deliver food to your home. „Charles, love, I’m home“, you announced yourself as you took off your shoes and jacket.

„In the kitchen“, he yelled back at you and you went to greet your boyfriend. He was standing there, with his back leaned against the kitchen island, looking devilishly handsome. You almost purred as your hands grinned his broad shoulders and gave him a quick, but meaningful kiss.

„Hey baby, how was your day?“, he asked you. At the thought of your day, the mood was ruined. „Ugh, it was the worst“, you whined and hoped Charles would grab on to your appeal. But with your lucky day, he didn’t. „Is it a glass of wine kinda day?“, he asked you, eyebrows raised. You sighed, no, it was a fuck me till i can’t walk kinda day, you thought.

Charles didn’t wait for your answer and opened the fridge to open you a bottle of white wine. The glass was already propped on the counter and he filled it to the brim. You were thankful for all the things he did for you, but you wished he would just the hint you were giving him.

„Thank you, chéri.“ You gave him a quick peck and took a large sip of your wine. He rubbed your shoulders and you moaned, just a tiny one, but you still did. But Charles didn’t register the moan and carried on.

„I ordered Chinese, are you hungry?“ - „A bit, yes. Thank you, Charlie.“

The plates were already on the table, so was the takeout bag. You took your glass to the table and sat down at your usual spot. He ordered himself some fried rice with chicken and for you some dumplings.

You weren’t talking during dinner, but he was telling you about his day - training, some time in the simulator, he met up with his race engineers and did a fitting for a new seat. His day was way better than yours.

The food didn’t help your needs and desires. You still wanted that orgasm and his mouth on yours. So you took matters into your own hands. „Charles, you look really good today“, you complimented him and batted your eyelids. „Thank you, amour, you too“, he said with a cheerful voice.

„Charles, I want something from you“, you whispered. You looked into his beautiful eyes and tried to look as sexy as possible. „What do you want?“ How can one man be so oblivious? „Charles, I need something from you.“ - „Mhm, yeah, you told me that. But I can’t do anything until you tell me what it is?“

You bit your lip, you loved him, really, he was the love of your life, but right at this moment, you could’ve kicked him to the moon. „Charles?“ - „Yes?“ - „I need you.“ You let out a breathy moan. Your voice quiet and shaky you look at him with lust in your eyes.

„Do you want me to seduce you?“

„That’s exactly what I want, Charles“, you thanked him and he grinned. He left the table and wanted to make his way over to you but in the heat of the moment he didn’t see your wine glass and pushed it over with his arm. The wine spilled all over the table and the floor and the glass broke in millions of pieces. Charles hurried to clean up the mess and crouched down to pick up the pieces. But you were too hungry for him to stop his mission.

You grabbed him by his shirt and said: „I don’t care about some spilled wine, I’d rather you make me overflow like that.“

You licked over your lips and he kissed you. He still tasted the white wine on your lips and groaned into the kiss. „Charles, I really need you“, you told him. He pursed his lips, he tried to be dominant and seductive, but with his luck he cut his hand trying to stand up. He hissed and immediately put his hand into his mouth.

But you were sick, rather than being worried about him you imagined his mouth against your pussy, sucking and licking as he did right now to stop the blood from dropping onto the floor. You took his hand to your mouth and sucked the blood and kissed the wound. „Now can we finally go to the bedroom?“

Charles was star struck, amazed by you. How can one woman be so perfect, so perfect for him? You were the love of his life.

On the way to your bedroom your clothing fell and he was on his way to do the same. Naked on your bed you waited for the love boy to devour you. „Bébé, wait a minute, I just need to find a condom“, he shouted from the hallway. You groaned, „Charles, please, I just need you, I don’t care about a silly condom, put a baby in me anyway.“

It just came out of you, did you actually want a baby from him? Yes, but certainly not now. Charles didn’t catch the phrase anyway, too caught up in still searching for a condom. He gave up shortly after that.

His naked torso and his v-line made you sweat. You pressed your thighs together to gain some friction. If Charles didn’t give you any attention, you had to do it yourself.

You fingers in your mouth to wet them some, even though you were already drenched. They trailed down your body, your mouth opened, a shaky breath released. Your index finger circled your right nipple. Occasionally pinching it. Charles was still focused on something else. „Don’t start without me, chérie“, he absently whispered, head turned to the ground.

You giggled and that’s when he finally looked up, your fingers in your pussy, pumping in and out. Your thumb pressed to your clit. He gasped. How could you start without him? Traitor. He walked up to you with lustful eyes. He crawled to your body and removed your fingers from your pussy.

You heard him inhale your scent. Suddenly you felt him lick a stripe up your pussy. You moaned his name, surprised by his sudden horniness. His mouth still on you, sucking and licking. Your clit inside his mouthy His fingers gripping your thighs, half moons left on your skin. He teased you. You felt his light beard scratch your inner thigh, his hands now snaked they’re way around to your ass and squeezed it. „Charles please“, you moaned, you wanted some release.

He suddenly stopped and smirked up to you. You threw your head back. His trousers were gone in an instant, so were his boxers. His tip was red and swollen. Leaking with pre cum it never looked more delicious. „Baby“, you looked him up and down, „let me please taste you.“

On your stomach now, you licked a stripe up from his belly up to his tip. His shaft thick and pulsating, you couldn’t wait to feel it in your mouth. His pre cum was licked up by you and it tasted salty and just like Charles. You moaned. Your tongue pressed flat on his underside. Hollowing your cheeks you swallowed him whole. His head was thrown back and he groaned, loud.

Your head bobbed up and down his dick. Feeling him twitch and pulsate was your favourite feeling all time. He grabbed your hair and held you down, so you were deep throating him. „Stop, mon dieu my god, I want to be inside you“, he groaned and pulled you off his cock.

As you rearranged and dipped into your wet and warm folds he moaned. And you moaned. „Let them all hear who makes you feel so good, ma chérie“, he whispered into your ears. His rhythm fast and deep. He hit your spot every thrust. You were in heaven, your bad day long forgotten.

He pushed down onto your lower abdomen and said: „I can feel myself, look how good I fill you up, feel it.“ That gave you the rest. The tight know that formed in your stomach exploded and you came with Charles name in your mouth. Soon after Charles came too, after he helped you ride out your orgasm.

He held you in his arms, softly stroking over your naked skin. He got up and brought you a cold glass of water and a lukewarm cloth to clean you up. Slowly he cleaned you up, from head to toes. When he was finished, he kissed you slowly and with lots of emotion.

„I love you, dear“, you whispered and kissed him again. „I love you much more, chérie“, he said and closed his eyes, holding you.

°°°

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#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #filthy stuff #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months

Text

Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 3

Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.

A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!

Ian Stirling Intro:

"And its a bright and sunny morning here in Love Island, birds are chirping, the skies are blue... and there's one eager islander already looking at the view - OH! Look at that I'm rhyming" the voice says as it shows the different camera angles in the bedroom until it settles on your bed, showing that only Charlie is in it.

"Seems like our engineer, is an early bird herself... and is cooking the others a nice breakfast. Are we sure she's not part of the McLaren Catering because that looks delicious!" Ian exclaims as it pans to you laying out the scrambled eggs.

"Time to wake up those other islanders!" he says and the footage pans back to the bedroom where the lights turn on and everyone is woken up.

The First Morning:

You waited as all the other islanders come down and you smile as they enter.

"Babes? Whats this?" Auriela asks looking at the stuff you'd cooked and laid out for breakfast.

"I'm an early riser because of my job, so I just thought I'd make a start on breakfast for us!" you smile as they all cheer happily. Charlie comes up behind you, holding your waist before kissing your cheek.

"Thanks sweetheart!" he grins taking a seat next to you and taking an slice of mango from the fruit platter you'd cut up.

"Thank you" Aaron says softly and you smile at him.

You guys spend the morning chatting, exploring the villa, sunbathing, working out and swimming around. It wasn't until about 11.30 that Chris got a text come though.

"I GOT A TEXT!" he shouts from over in the gym and everyone starts gasping, the boys who were in the gym with him - Charlie and Jai start to jump on him excitedly slapping his back acting like little school kids.

"Read it out!" Millie shouts from next to you and Aaron in the pool.

"Islanders, it's time to get to know each other more in todays Challenge 'Kiss and Pie' your positions are fighting for the choice at the next coupling up" Chris reads out and you all look around in shock before getting ready to go to the challenge.

Lando and Oscar:

They boys were watching gearing up for episode 2.

But it was hard, Oscar was struggling seeing you cooking in the bikini and in the gym with the boys and then swimming around with Aaron it was killing him, but when the challenge came around he didn't know what hit him.

The Challenge:

The way the challenge basically worked was a fact about an islander was said out loud and the person who chose it had to kiss the person they thought it was about and then shove pie in the person you thought least likely. Pie being literally whipped cream.

"Okay, who has broken up with their boyfriend of 5 years after he proposed to her..." Chris says in shock before all the boys huddle round and start discussing.

He goes up, kissing Zavi making her blush a little.

"I'm so-so sorry Y/N!" he cringes before shoving the plate of whipped cream in your face, it falling down in between your cleavage.

"CHRIS!" you exclaim and look at him while wiping the excess cream off your face.

"Sorry... but all the boys agreed your marriage material..." he shurgs before running back off to the boys group.

"Okay, who has had three girlfriends at the same time... oooooo you WHAT?" Millie reads out in shock before coming over to the other girls.

"Who do we think it is?" Millie asks.

"It's got to be Charlie?" Auriela exclaims.

"I agree!" Zavi laughs and Millie walks over kissing Charlie full force making you just laugh. It wasn't like you were threatened anyway. She then goes to put the cream in Aaron's face, he was clearly the most loyal in the villa right now.

"Okay, who owns a Mclaren...!" Aaron reads out and before he can even discuss it with the boys he's walking up to you and kissing you. Both of his hands were on either side of your face tilting it to the side to kiss deeper. It was a really really nice kiss despite you both being covered in cream from the last two rounds.

He grabs the plate of cream before lightly smacking it on Auriela's face.

"YOU OWN A MCLAREN?" Daniel shouts looking over at you and you nod.

"I work for them, in a way!" you grin and all the boys look impressed with this new found information.

The games continue, more getting unleashed as you have a kiss with Daniel and another one with Aaron.

It was a fun afternoon but the sun was starting to set and you guys were due to go back to the villa.

Lando and Oscar:

Oscar's eyes were glued to you, he was having the most perverted thoughts about you and honesty he hated it. He was now sat in Lando's hotel room with a blanket around him and a pillow covering his lower half.

"Mate, you are drooling!" Lando laughs looking over at his friend.

"No... I'm not!" he cries looking over at his friend.

"Yes, you so are! My god, I saw you leaning in when you watched them kiss!" Lando grins looking over at his friend who sits back awkwardly.

"Come on dude. It's fine to admit you have the hots for her!" Lando exclaims and Oscar blushes a beetroot red.

"Fuck off man!" he groans holding the pillow down a little tighter to his body.

"Dude come on, maybe you should go in there and claim your girl... she's getting close to Aaron!" Lando jokes, and misses the look in Oscar's eyes as he watches you and Aaron kiss again, and he cant help but want it to be him.

Back in the Villa:

All the girls had gotten ready and were looking super cute, they were currently sat round the firepit with a glass a wine talking about their day out.

"God, I already miss home. And the job!" you groan looking between all the girls and their heads snapped up in shock.

"WHAT?" they cry out looking up, you'd all only been here two days... how on earth were you missing home already.

"I just... it's nothing!" you giggle.

Just then someone's phone pings ... it's Zavi's.

"I got a TEXT!" she exclaims and you all look at her.

All the boys come rushing over to the firepit to hear what it is.

"Islanders, please get ready to welcome your two new islanders!"

...

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81

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oscarloscarr · 2 months

Text

'i wish you'd talk'

a carcar short au✨️ written hastily😓 (inspired by 'talk talk' by charlie xcx)

“Your Hungarian Grand Prix Winner, Oscar Piastri! Give a big applause and raise your glass for him, everyone!” the DJ from the booth speaks his name, and Oscar just smiles at the crowd who cheered.

The club is crowded, and Lando is gone probably searching for something (or someone). George and Alex are probably talking about Fernando, who was throwing a tantrum because the FIA guessed him as Brad Pitt, while Charles and Pierre are talking about the Olympics (they are curious to swim at the Seine).

And then there is this guy, who looks so good. Wearing his baby blue linen shirt, hair flipped like it came out from the salon, and face sculpted like Greek Gods. Ferrari does have the best-looking driver line-up.

“Enjoying your view, Oscar?” he said and rolled his ‘R’.

Well, of course. “Nope, you covered my view.”

The man chuckled and took a sip from his glass, “Sorry for that,” and he leaned back to the sofa.

“I was just kidding, Carlos. Just sit like you were,” the younger turned to him.

Oscar instantly regretted that he turned to Carlos because now he looked right into Carlos’ eyes. Beautiful eyes.

For the past few months, both of them have been spending some time together. After the Miami Grand Prix (where all collided), it’s either Carlos going to the McLaren accommodation or meeting at a local restaurant where nobody recognized them while eating delicacies and talking. It’s only both of them, and they found some similarities between them (both have the same race engineer at McLaren, little white dogs, used to drive for Arden) and then so many differences (too much, but they agreed on some discussions).

Carlos is not complicated, he thought. But Carlos has so many layers like cakes. And Oscar finds it very comforting because Carlos has nothing to hide other than his burger restaurant in Madrid.

“Okay, campeón,” Carlos moves closer to Oscar. It felt so right.

When the night gets much darker and slowly turns to dawn, Oscar gets drunker and drunker because Pierre has secretly bought so many kinds of alcohol.

“Carlos,” he nudges Carlos’ shoulder.

“Yes, Oscar?”

“Can we go home?” his eyes begged because Oscar was knackered.

Carlos nodded, “Let’s go,” he helped Oscar to get up and held his waist to stabilize the younger.

Charles looks confused at his teammate, and Carlos just looks at him. “Gotta give him a lift, I’m not drunk.”

The man nodded, “Yes, please. We don’t even know where’s Lando or George. I’ll be with Pierre.”

“Okay, I’ll get going,” said Carlos while Oscar was deep in his sleep on Carlos’ neck.

“Be safe, and don’t–

“I’ll be on the speed limit, Charles,” he smiles at his teammate and walks to the exit.

While waiting for the car, Oscar is sniffing Carlos like he is trying to know what is the smell. “Kid, you’re not a dog,” Carlos chuckled.

“You smelled like rich people, Carlos,” he mumbled. Oscar is rich from his Formula 1 paycheck, but he doesn't smell like Carlos.

“Thanks,” the car arrived and Carlos helped Oscar to get into the passenger seat of his red Ferrari, and he even made Oscar wear the seatbelt.

Throughout the journey, Oscar is only mumbling, and Carlos blames it on Pierre and his choice of alcohol.

“Carlos?”

“Yes, Oscar?”

“I wish you’d talk,”

“Talk about what?”

“Talk to me,”

“About what?”

“Wish you’d just talk to me,”

“Oscar, you’re drunk–

“Talk to me in Spanish, talk to me, just talk, Carlos.”

If Carlos doesn’t remember that they’re on the road somewhere, he probably instantly breaks.

“Just talk to me, Carlos,” Oscar keeps mumbling from his sleep, but somehow he finds Carlos’ thigh and rests his hand there.

Carlos is trying to focus on the road, but he replies nervously, “Sí, sí. ¿De qué quieres hablar, mi pequeño koala?”

He only sighed and fell deep in his sleep, looking like a kid.

And yes, Carlos held Oscar's hand that was still on his thigh. Tightly.

#carcar #carlos sainz #oscar piastri #oscarlos #carloscar #f1 au #f1 hungary

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fangirlika · 10 months

Note

Needy Charles begging reader to sit on his face before a race because it’s his “lucky charm” in some way?

We need sub! Charles so bad omlll 😭🙏

Love your writing btwww💋💋❤️❤️

omg yes I love seeing people support the sub!charles agenda hehehe and also thank you so much <3

He would always claim that you are his lucky charm in some ways, that he always coincidentally does well when you are in the paddock and there to support him, when you are there right before the race in his driver’s room to cheer him up and to maybe, sometimes, get him off to relieve stress or doubts before he heads off to his car…

Sometimes you’d just give him head until he comes down your throat with a loud groan and a “thank you, chérie, always so good for me” but other times he wants to focus on your pleasure more than on his own specifically.

It’s when his good-luck-kiss turns sloppier, more needy and mixes with low groans and gasps that you know he wants more before the race starts.

And who are you to deny him and you those short minutes of pleasure?

“Sit on my face, chérie”, he whispers into the kiss, causing you to pull away and look at him with wide eyes. His cheeks are flush and he stares right down at you.

“S-sit on you? Charlie”, he lets out a small moan at his nickname, “we’ve never done that before…”, you whispered.

“Please, y/n”, he continues to beg with a hoarse voice and it doesn’t take much more convincing for you to comply and lead him to the small couch in the room. This was so impractical, you thought. But it would have to make do for now.

As soon as your pussy was hovering over his face, Charles let out a moan and when his tongue pressed down on your clit, it was you who couldn’t suppress a loud gasp from leaving your mouth.

It was always risky, it was always a bit stupid, to do it in his driver’s room when any minute a manager or an engineer could knock on the door to get Charles.

But it felt so good.

“Yeah, Charlie, right there, be good for me, yeah?”, you moaned out between the intense sensations of his tongue licking over your clit and his lips occasionally sucking on it.

“Always, chérie”, he whispered into your core, the warmth of his breath feeling so good.

He was always so good to you.

#fangirlikareplies #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc smut imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x reader smut

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ashlovesrescuebots · 3 days

Text

Rewrite.

TFRB GROWN UP AU

( i'm not a writer so, have low expectations )

This takes place in the "It's a Bot time" episode . And Chief wanted Cody and Frankie to stay outside with chase just to be safe and before Doc can send dither to 1939 , The rescue crew gets sucked into the future by mistake , more precisely 20 years into the future . Cody is (11) while Frankie is (12); presently , Cody is (31) and Frankie is (32) . Now , Cody is by himself with Chase , the only rescue force remaining . Cody told Woodrow about this when they missed Charlie and Woodrow's holiday and Woodrow came down there to cheer him up . Chase is devastated trying to contact Optimus , but in this au Optimus doesn't answer due to the ongoing deception-autobot war in Nevada . So he never answers chase , but chase has still been trying every Sunday . Cody doesn't have a drastic personality change , He's still the same kind , purely good , spirit he's always been he just keeps to himself now-a-days . At first , Nobody noticed that the Burns family disappeared before Cody was the one showing up to rescues alongside Chase, because Cody usually answers the calls . For the past 20 years Frankie ( who goes by Francine now ) Has been trying to talk Cody out of using the time machine , because she's afraid she might lose him . Present day , Cody's gonna try to use it one more time in hopes to get his family back .

As for the rescue work . Amy , Taylor , Hayley , and Captain Shaw often volunteer to help Cody since he's a one man-bot team .

Amy helps with engineering , Taylor helps with air support , and Hayley helps with getting "lookyloo's'" away from the rescue site and just evacuating people and helping those in need . And Cody gets fire fighting , and police work by himself . ( Makeshift rescue team )

For @guardian-of-fandoms 💛

Close up of Frankie and Cody ( i didn't make a character sheet )

Cody is chief of police ( aka Chief Burns )

And Frankie is the Lead scientist of Griffin Rock ( Cody's gotten into the habit of calling her Doc ) also she has little hearts in her afro because I felt like she needed that

#cody burns #rescue bots #au #chase rescue bots #tfrb #tfrbgrownupau #tfrbseason1au #tf #tfrb au #tfrb cody burns #ashly.txt

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whatsnewalycat · 5 months

Text

Passenger / Chapter 6

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Three)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k+

Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns

Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.

It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.

Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.

Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.

He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.

Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.

Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.

When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.

“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.

“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.

Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”

The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.

Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”

“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”

“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”

“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”

“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”

Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”

“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”

“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off.

“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”

“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”

“Know any Waylon Jennings?”

“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”

“Surprise me,” he winks.

Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.

Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”

“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”

“How much will it cost to fix?”

Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”

“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.

“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”

Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.

“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”

Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”

You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”

“A trade?” Paul frowns.

“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”

Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”

Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”

Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.

“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”

Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”

“She is.”

“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“

Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”

“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.

“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”

When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.

“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.

“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”

“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”

Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”

“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”

Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”

The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.

“We can do that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.

The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”

You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”

“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”

“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”

“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”

“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.

Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”

“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.

“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.

“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”

When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.

Stupid goddamn aviators.

“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”

Again, nothing.

‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.

You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”

This seems to do the trick.

It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.

Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”

“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”

He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”

He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.

“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”

Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”

Such a way with words.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “‘Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”

After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.

“Why that one?”

He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”

Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”

You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.

“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.

She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.

“What?”

Dead giveaway.

Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”

“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.

“I didn’t say anything!”

He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”

“No.”

Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.

Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.

“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”

Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”

“Not at all.”

You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.

“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”

Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.

“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”

He says nothing.

“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”

The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.

“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”

His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”

“No, not really.”

Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.

“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”

With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”

Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.

You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”

He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”

“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.

“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”

When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.

He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.

Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.

It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?

He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.

“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.

Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”

“It says five dollars.”

“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”

“Does anyone?”

“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”

Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”

“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”

He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”

“Original.”

“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”

“Yes.”

“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”

“What do you need help with?”

You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”

“I can do that.”

Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”

He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”

As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.

“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”

He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”

Your question bounces off him with no reaction.

Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.

When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”

He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”

“Can you help me with something?”

His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.

“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”

“Use the big ladder.”

“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”

He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”

“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.

Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.

The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.

At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…

Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.

You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.

Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?

Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”

He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

Fuck, did he ask you something?

“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.

With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.

The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.

He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.

Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.

“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”

“Are you almost done?”

“You ruined the best part.”

“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”

You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.

A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”

He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.

Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.

“Are you gonna hop in too?”

His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.

“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.

He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”

Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.

“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”

His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.

“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”

“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”

He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.

Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”

Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”

“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”

You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.

Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.

“Like this?”

“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”

For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.

“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”

Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”

“Then why?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”

While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.

“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”

If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.

“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.

“Would you do it if you had to?”

The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.

“Why would I have to?”

“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”

He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”

“You wouldn’t?”

The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.

“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.

“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”

“Ignoring you.”

“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

With this, you go quiet.

Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.

His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?

He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.

But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.

While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.

“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”

“You choose.”

Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.

You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.

After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”

When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.

He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”

Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.

“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”

It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”

He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”

“Nothing.”

His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.

The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”

Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.

“Thanks.”

He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”

“Off.”

When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.

“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”

Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.

I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.

You almost fulfill the vow, too.

Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.

With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”

You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.

“Charlie?” he nudges you.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”

He nods, almost apologetically.

“Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”

When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.

“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”

“Want me to turn the lamp on?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.

“Here.”

His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.

Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.

Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I can’t fall asleep.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I said I can’t fall asleep.”

“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”

You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.

“Just talk to me for a while.”

“About what?”

“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.

His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”

“Hang on, let me think.”

A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.

“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”

“Like a farm?”

“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”

“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream.”

You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”

“I… I’d rather not say.”

Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”

“Thank you.”

There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.

“What are yours?” he asks.

“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”

“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”

“Tricky bastard, huh?”

Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.

“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”

“You sound tired.”

You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”

“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin x ofc #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #passenger

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mbappebby · 1 year

Text

Little Leclerc || Eight

Ollie Bearman x Madelyn Leclerc (OC)

Summary: Madelyn gets her first podium in F1, the same weekend Ollie gets his first win in F2. They really are THE racing couple..

Requested: Yes, by anonymous: Hey!! Can I request something where Ollie won his first race in F2, then he goes to watch Madelyn race and she gets on the podium for the first time? He’s very proud of her as well had all the other drivers!! Thank you, loving the series can’t believe it’s coming to an end :(

Words: 1.8K +

Series

Taglist: @christianpulisic10 @callsignwidow @honethatty12 @lorarri @shamelesspotatos @formulas-bitch @topguncultleader @meabhcavanagh @eugene-emt-roe @eutrizbea

a/n: Been awhile, I hoped you guys like it though! If you want to be added to the taglist let me know by messaging me or commenting! Thanks for all the support on this series, it’s crazy!!

The whole Prema garage filled with cheers when Ollie crossed the line first place. His first win for the team, his first win in F2.

Madelyn was stood by Charles behind the barrier to see with three cars pull up. Arthur had got P3, when he got out the car he instantly ran to his siblings.

“First podium! Proud of you!” Madelyn told him as Arthur hugged her tightly. “Thank you Mads, I’m sure you are proud of Ollie as well” Arthur added.

Madelyn saw Ollie running to his team and family and started to celebrate his first win in F2 with them. Ollie took off his helmet and locked eyes with his girlfriend.

The Prema driver had a big smile on his face when he ran over to her and they hugged tightly. “I’m so proud of you, your first win baby!!” Madelyn exclaimed as they kissed.

“I love you,” Ollie mumbled and kissed her forehead. “I love you too Oll, I’ll catch up with you later okay? Now go and collect that trophy and celebrate” Madelyn told him.

“I sure will!” Ollie added as he walked away towards the podium. Madelyn smile brightly seeing her boyfriend and brother on the podium together.

Madelyn hid behind Charles as Arthur and Ollie sprayed a bit of their champagne over them. “Hey! I’m not a shield!” Charles told her.

“Well, you are now” Madelyn said as Charles rolled his eyes at his sister. Madelyn made a hear shape with her hands to Ollie, he replied with a wink.

“Awh look at you two, disgusting” Charles mumbled. “Shut up, this is why I like your girlfriend better than you” Madelyn added which made Charles nudged her slightly.

“Rude” Charles replied. “Just the truth, Charlie” Madelyn told him.

@ madelynleclerc

Liked by prema_racing, arthur_leclerc and 716,915 others

madelynleclerc: So proud of you, mon amour❤️🐻

view all 18,628 comments

username Awhh, you guys are so cute!!

username You guys are THE racing couple🤩

username Awhhh! Congrats Ollie!!

username So cute!!!

username 🤩🤩🤩

olliebearman Love you Lynnie❤️

madelyn.leclerc I love u moree❤️

username They’re actually so cuteeee🥰

username Congrats Ollie!!

username Ollie is like the only person who calls her Lyn/Lynnie🥹

username Mads and Ollie >>

username 😍😍😍

username I need Maddie to get on the podium now!!

username So cutee🥹

username Cutest couple😍

“Max Verstappen wins the Azerbaijan Grand Prix! Charles Leclerc, comes home second place in his Ferrari but the car behind it going to make the most headlines today—

—the rookie driver Madelyn Leclerc finishes P3!! What a result for her and what a way to make her name in Formula 1! First podium for the rookie, we can’t wait to see what’s in the future for her!” Crofty exclaimed.

“P3 Mads!! What a drive, congratulations, you deserve this so much. Zhou P5, a brilliant result for the team!” Her race engineer called as he could hear the team celebrating in the background.

“Wooo!! Let’s go!! First podium babyyyy!! What a result for the team, c’mon let’s keep it going!!” Madelyn said with a big smile on her face, even though no one could see it.

Madelyn parked her car in the P3 spot, she instantly got out and ran to her crew. She then took her helmet off and ran to her brothers.

“So proud of you Mads,” Lorenzo said after pulling away from the hug. “Thanks Enzo,” Madelyn replied as Arthur pulled her into a tight hug.

“First podium for both of us this weekend, so proud of you!” Arthur told her. “Thank you!!” Madelyn replied as she felt two arms pick her up from behind.

“P3 Mads?! So proud of you, sis!” Charles exclaimed as he put her down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you Char, congrats on P2” Madelyn added.

Madelyn went over and drank some water before she was lifted up once again. “Congrats lil sis!” Max exclaimed and put her down.

Madelyn turned around and hugged him. “Thank you Max” Madelyn said with a smile. “You deserve it so much!” Max added. “Maddie!!” Pierre called.

Madelyn ran over to him and they hugged tightly. “So proud of you!! P3 in your rookie year?!” Pierre added. “Thank you, it’s crazy” Madelyn said.

After the interview, Madelyn made her way into the cool-down room. Charles and Max were already there, the three started to talk about the car while watching the replays before they were called for the podium.

Madelyn had a big smile on her face as she lifted the trophy up, she pointed to her team who cheered for her loudly.

Once it was time for the champagne, Max and Charles had teamed up against Madelyn. The young girl was drenched but she didn’t care at that moment.

She had just gotten her podium in formula 1 in her rookie year.

Madelyn had changed into new clothes after all the celebrations had finished. There wasn’t many people left in the paddock, Madelyn got all her things and made her way out of the garage.

When she did that, she finally saw the one person she wanted to see as soon as she crossed the line. Madelyn ran and jumped in Ollie’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you, Lyn!! You got a fucking podium in your rookie year in f1!!” Ollie exclaimed as they were hugging tightly.

“Thank you Oll,” Madelyn added as they kissed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the podium” Ollie replied as they pulled away. “It’s okay, you’re here now” Madelyn mumbled.

“What a weekend for us, eh?” Ollie added. “What a weekend, indeed..” Madelyn said with a smile. “I love you so much” Ollie told her.

“I love you too Ol, c’mon race you to the entrance!” Madelyn said as she took off running. “Lynnie! That isn’t fair!!” Ollie shouted and ran after her.

The couple laughs could be heard by everyone who was still in the paddock, many crew members smiled at the young pair.

Two drivers who were still in the paddock, was Madelyn’s brother and teammate. The two Ferrari drivers watched the couple as they were also making their way towards the entrance.

“They are made for each other, I’m glad we both told you and Arthur off that day” Carlos said. “Glad you guys did that, I can see how much they belong together” Charles added with a smile.

@ madelyn.leclerc

⚫️⚪️

⚪️⚫️

Liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 2,527,971 others

madelyn.leclerc To all the people who said I don’t belong in this sport, this podium was for you😌

On a serious note, what a weekend for us!! P3 and P5, this was for you team!! I still can’t believe in my rookie year I got on the podium, it’s crazy and I cannot thank the team and everyone else who is involved enough. Also happy to share the podium with Charlie & Maxie, it’s only upwards from here❤️

tagged: zhouguanyu24 alfaromeoorlen

view all 21,260 comments

username Let’s go Maddie!!!!

username P3 in an Alfa Romeo🤩

username Best rookie🥰

alfaromeoorlen Maddie🤩

madelyn.leclerc Teamm❤️

username You deserve this so much!!!

username 🤩🤩🤩

arthur_leclerc Tellement fier de toi❤️ (so proud of you)

lorenzotl Petite sœur, fier❤️ (little sister, proud)

madelyn.leclerc Je t’aime❤️ (Love you)

username Leclerc’s >>>

username When Maddie ran to her brothers🥹

username 🔥🔥🔥

username Maddie deserves to be in the sport, end of.

charles_leclerc Fier de ma petite sœur❤️ (Proud of my little sister)

madelyn.leclerc Merci, Char❤️ (thank you)

username Charles🥰

username Charles looked so proud of Mads when she lifted her trophy🥹

username Queennn😍

maxverstappen1 Nice sharing with you lil sis❤️

madelyn.leclerc ❤️🤝

username I love their friendship!!

username Max and Charles teaming up and drenching Maddie is champagne🥰

@ olliebearman

Liked by charles_leclerc, prema_racing and 883,624 others

olliebearman: Proud of you Lynnie❤️

tagged: madelyn.leclerc

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username What a weekend for you guys!!🤩

username Yeah, you guys are THE racing couple😍

username Maddie got a podium, woo!!!

username 🤩🤩🤩

madelyn.leclerc I love u Ol, what a weekend❤️

olliebearman ❤️

username You guys are so cute!!

username What a beautiful weekend🥰

username 🔥🔥🔥

username Ollie and Maddie >>>

username I love you guys so much!!

username 😍❤️

#f1 #f1 imagines #formula 1 #charles leclerc x sister #charlesleclerc #arthur leclerc x sister #charles leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc imagine #ollie bearman x leclerc!sister #leclerc brothers #leclerc!sister #leclerc!reader

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seramilla · 4 months

Note

...I did a thing

The school, especially the engineering students, were all gathered for the goodbye speech as their Head of Engineering was leaving them. Most of the other classes and teachers were here too because Ms. Sera Phim the CFO was leaving as well.

"So I hope you all don't forget what I taught you and I dearly hope your next Head of Engineering at least knows what they're doing." Carmilla said earning snickers from her two engineering daughters while Vaggie just snorted.

"And as for that fanclub that popped up in regards to my relationship status with a certain CFO..." Carmilla said and there were alarmed noises from the members of said fanclub.

"You told her?!" One student asked Odette and Clara and the two snickered heavily.

"Of course we did. It's hilarious!" Clara said grinning at them all.

"and for everyone that tried hitting on either of us...let me make this clear." Carmilla said sternly and now everyone was staring as she approached Sera. She grabbed the taller woman by her business suit and yanked her down into a deep passionate kiss.

Then when she pulled back from the blushing woman she smirked as she held up their hands to show off their rings.

"We've been married since before we started working here. We just kept it professional at work. Next person who hits on my wife in front of me no less, gets the shit kicked out of them!" Carmilla said smirking at everyone as the fanclub cheered and a few others were blushing or whooping.

"Carmilla!" Sera squeaked out bright red and was cut off by Carmilla kissing her cheek.

"Don't faint in front of the school mi vida." Carmilla said unapologetic as she grinned.

"Go mama!" Clara whooped as Odette tried to hide her snickers and Vaggie pulled a face but was smiling. Charlie just 'aww'ed at the two alongside Emily.

"Oh and Mrs. Carmody? You've been teaching everything wrong and are a rude hypocritical bitch heading down when you die and not up." Carmilla said sweetly and Charlie and Emily definitely cheered her on then.

"How DARE you!" And that was their cue. The Carmine daughters, Charlie and Emily leapt onto the stage and everyone's human disguises dropped.

Charlie even went the extra mile by having her horns and tail visible as she wrapped her arms around Vaggies while being mindful of her wings.

"Oh we dare very well! I'm an overlord in hell. My lovely wife is a literal Seraphim as is Emily. My older two have been in hell a while and my youngest is a fallen angel and exorcist. Oh and not counting Princess Charlotte." Carmilla said and there was a lot of gaping and a bit of fainting now.

"Princess...Charlotte?" The Business teacher asked as everyone looked at the brightly smiling blond.

"Oh right. Proper introduction. Hi I'm Crown Princess Charlotte Morningstar of Hell. The princess of Pride." And Charlie's red eyes locked right onto the gaping and pale Mrs. Carmody as a wicked smirk stole across her face.

"Daughter of Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar."

And with that Mrs. Carmody fainted and Charlie used her powers to rip open a portal to hell and her hotel right there in front of everyone.

"Later losers." Vaggie smirked as she followed her girlfriend like a lovesick puppy.

"I need to check on my business and lavish my wife in love and attention." Carmilla swept the much taller Sera into a bridal carry, startling a laugh from the angel.

"See you in hell!" Clara laughed as she and Odette entered the portal that then sealed shut with a small poof and smell of sulfur.

With that. Chaos erupted.

"Sera Phim" I'm howling! Sera, you ain't slick!! 🤣🤣

Professor Carmody and Susan are gonna be great pals one day, mark my words!!

No further comments, your honor. 😂😂 Just basking in the glorious shenanigans. We love a big "fuck you, you old bitch (Carmody)!" at the final reveal! Chef's kiss! 💋💋

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seramilla #charlie morningstar #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #crack theories #serious crack au

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traintrainingmontage · 4 months

Text

Railroaded

Summary: Edward gives some life advice to the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth.

Rating: G

Word Count: ~2.5k

Characters: Edward, OC, mentions of BoCo and other engines

I've been having a lot of thoughts about the roles of engines and people, as well as the differences between what they want out of life, and thus, this Edward appreciation fic was born.

Crossposted to Ao3!

The sun had long set above the island of Sodor, making way for the moon to head off across the skies. Beneath the twinkling stars lay Wellsworth station, gateway to the rest of the Brendam Branch Line, and in the sheds at the back, BoCo was fast asleep in his berth by the time Edward puffed in.

Some things ran in the family, it seemed, and Edward couldn't help but marvel at it.

Truthfully, the blue engine preferred the berths at Tidmouth, what with their familiar hustle and bustle (as well as their vibrant excitement). That said, it was already so late, and going all the way up to Tidmouth would certainly guarantee that both the engine and his crew alike would be a rather unprofessional level of grouchy tomorrow.

"Alright, Edward," called his driver, Tiffany, as she patted him companionably on the buffer. "We're putting you up for the night. Catch you bright and early tomorrow!"

Tiffany Sand, much like her late grandfather, was a cheerful and capable sort. Edward had watched her grow up, smiling widely at him as he'd passed her hometown, and it had warmed his soul when she'd enthusiastically applied to be his driver as soon as she possibly could. The entire Sand family had always treated him well, and it had been Charlie who'd been with him during his most memorable exploit. The man had been in his early 60s, then, but the smile he'd worn all those years hadn't changed a bit. In fact, Edward could see that same smile etched on Tiffany's own face.

Driver and fireman headed out of the shed, lured by the siren's song of their warm beds. Just as Edward was about to sink into satisfied slumber as well, however, a quiet knock roused him once more. "Ah, hullo?" Edward mumbled sleepily. "Who's there?"

After a moment, a vaguely familiar face hesitantly peeked in. Short brown hair framed inquisitive hazel eyes, and a well-groomed beard and mustache complimented the fine clothes that the visitor wore. Although not terribly tall, this particular gentleman carried himself with a certain level of poise and grace that made him stand out in a crowd. The man's entire look and demeanor spoke to someone who would sport a black silk top hat one day.

Before the man could speak, Edward's eyes widened and his face broke into a broad smile, all hint of sleep forgotten. "Ah, hello, Sir!"

The visitor's brief unease evaporated at the warm greeting, and he returned the engine's grin with one of his own. "I'm no Sir yet, Edward. Please, call me Adam."

Edward momentarily made a thoughtful expression, as if he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it. He had seen the future Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth from afar a few times before, and they had exchanged pleasantries a handful of times, but they were hardly close. Still, since the man himself allowed it, and for the sake of making his surprise guest feel more at ease, Edward would do as his Controller's grandson asked.

"As you like. What can I do for you, Sir--er, Adam?" The Seagull did not bother commenting on the late hour, feeling that Adam was already well aware of the time and thus needed help with something that could not wait. As to what the problem could be, however, much less one that a steam engine could solve, Edward had no idea.

The heir to the railway sighed, digging his hands into the pockets of his blazer and idly kicking at some gravel. The poise from before seemed to have retreated, leaving only a tired-eyed gentleman standing before the blue engine. "I... I need some advice, Edward."

The engine blinked, not expecting such a comment. Yet, before he could speak, Adam began to elaborate. "My father and grandfather have always said that you're the wisest engine on our railway. They said that you were the only one they could ask questions of without feeling like... I don't know... like it would undermine their authority or be a show of favoritism or make an engine feel bad that they or you didn't have all the answers. And right now, I just need another person's perspective." Adam blinked as he registered what he'd said, giving Edward a sheepish look. "...Or, well, in this case, an engine's."

Edward carefully considered the request. It was true that previous Fat Controllers had come to him for the occasional answer to a question they had or to get his opinion on something, but it was usually a matter of them already having a plan or idea in mind and confirming it with him as a matter of course; a supervisor conferring with a trusted employee to ensure that the idea was a sound one.

Adam was not doing that. Instead of the confident tones that Edward had come to associate with the Controllers' family, Adam's voice sounded... lost, almost. Vulnerable. And from the way he was speaking, he had nowhere else to turn.

Somehow, in this moment, Edward was reminded of Thomas.

"Very well, Adam," Edward replied gravely. "I'm happy to hear you out and assist you as best I can."

A look of pure relief came over Adam's face, and he gave a quiet sigh. He then approached Edward slowly, pulling out and setting up a nearby folding chair so that he could sit beside the engine's buffers.

As he made himself comfortable, the heir took a deep breath, clearly trying to determine what he was going to say and how to say it. Edward waited patiently, expression unjudging. "I... the truth of the matter is that I'm not sure I'm cut out to run the railway," Adam began, his eyes flicking up to Edward's to see what the engine thought.

Edward blinked, surprise evident all over his face. "Really? I would never have guessed. Whenever I see you, you always exude such confidence."

A self-deprecating laugh escaped Adam's lips. "All part of the act, I'm afraid." He ran a hand through his short hair, his gaze lifting toward the ceiling. "I'm already 28 years old, Edward. I've gone to university, graduated top of my class in engineering, and know everything there is to know about train maintenance. But finance? Management? Oh, Edward... there's still so much I don't know."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his eyes slid over toward the steam engine once more. Edward met his gaze calmly, simply listening and taking it all in.

"Father is just over 50, but he's already said that he plans to pass everything off to me once grandfather retires. He enjoys traveling alongside the Duke and promoting the railway much more than he likes staying here and working. That's why Uncle Charles and Aunt Emily have stepped up in his stead. But... I..."

Adam's hand slipped down to cover his face, obscuring all but the wan smile creasing his lips. "Everyone expects that I'll take over for my grandfather, become Sir Topham Hatt the Fifth, and run the railway as well as they all did. But truthfully... I'd rather work in the Steamworks. I've always enjoyed repairing machines, being more hands-on than anything, and I don't want to worry about the finances and business negotiations and investments. My sister Courtney is much more money-minded than I am; she should run the railway! But I just... I don't know. Everyone's expectations are just so... heavy."

Finally, his hand fell back down to his side, exhaustion clear in his young face as he stared at Edward. "Edward... what do you when you've been given a job that you're not sure you can do and never asked for, but everyone says you'll do a good job and you need to do a good job or else everything will fall apart, and... and... and..."

Adam's voice finally fell quiet, the only sound rumbling through the shed being that of BoCo's quiet snoring. Edward silently thanked the Lord, and the Lady of Gold, that BoCo was a sound sleeper.

That said... what was he to say? Engines thought very differently about work and duty than humans did. Part of Edward wanted to comfort the young heir, but the kind of thing that Adam found comforting would probably be very different from what Thomas or Bill & Ben would need to hear. Not to mention that Edward hardly knew what a human would find comforting. But truthfully, Edward was a fan of giving truthful advice, and trying to tell Adam what he might want to hear didn't sit well with the old engine. If that was the case, there was really only one track open to him.

After a long moment, Edward finally heaved a sigh and hesitantly started to speak.

"Well, Adam, I don't know how helpful my advice will be, but I shall try to answer as I would if an engine asked me such a thing."

Adam simply nodded, some of his exhaustion seemingly turning to curiosity.

"You see, engines are born to serve and live to serve. It's our purpose, our reason for being, and it's said that our drive to do right by our railways is a gift granted by our patron saint, the Lady of Gold. I'll tell you about her another time, if you don't mind," Edward smiled, seeing the young engineer's curious expression.

"But all the same, many of us still have preferences regarding which jobs we prefer to do. James, for example, is very vocal about which tasks he enjoys doing." The blue engine gave a quiet chuckle as he said this, and the young Hatt laughed along with him. "And yet... he, like the rest of us, will do whatever he needs to do for his railway. We are all made for different things, with different builds and specialties, and we place our trust in our Controllers to tell us how best we can help."

"Ah..." Adam sighed despondently. "So I guess I should just listen to my family's wisdom, then?"

"Well..." Edward paused, mulling over his words. "At the same time, if an engine was given a task that they weren't built for, that would cause problems. The task needs to be assigned to the right engine, and if the engine knows that a task isn't simply something that they don't want to do, but something that they aren't made for, then they are duty-bound to tell their Controller. Of course, their Controller should know better than to force an engine into taking on the wrong tasks in the first place."

The Seagull sighed, feeling slightly frustrated at not being able to give as clear of an answer as he would have liked. "But Adam... you aren't an engine. You are a person, and as a person, the number of things that you can do in this world is greater than I could ever fathom. If you held no affection for this railway, I would have no idea as to what advice I could give, but I can tell that you love the North Western Railway as much as both us and your predecessors."

A quiet smile crossed Edward's face as he thought of Tiffany.

"On this island, a love of railways seems to be an inherited thing. Your father and grandfather are likely placing such pressure on you because they believe in you, and truthfully, it is my opinion that you could indeed rise to the challenge. If it was simply an issue of confidence, I would encourage you to believe in yourself and take up the task that your Controller has entrusted you with. To do what you were 'built for,' so to speak."

The tender smile on Edward's face did not wane, but his gaze softened as he looked upon the young Hatt. Ribbons of moonlight cascaded through the shed windows, illuminating their faces. "However, Adam, it sounds to me like this is more a matter of what makes your fire burn. If you truly believe that you are better suited for a different set of tasks than railway oversight, speak with your sister. Form an alliance. Show your worth as a mechanical engineer to your father and grandfather, and prove to them that you can do the job that you want better than the job that they wish to give you. As I said at the start, we all have preferences. As long as your desires align with your capabilities, there is no shame in pursuing what you want within the bounds of reason."

Adam stared at Edward for a long time, awe reflected in his hazel gaze. "They were right," he murmured. "It won't be as easy as you've described, but somehow, you've given me the confidence to try. You really do know everything, Edward."

The blue engine barked a charmed laugh, pleased that his advice had been useful after all. "No no, don't give me that much credit! I really just..." Edward quickly cut himself off as he looked almost guiltily toward BoCo, who was fortunately still snoring away. Once reassured that the diesel hadn't been disturbed, Edward looked back at the future head engineer with a smile. "I really just have experience to thank. Whatever your role on this railway, Adam, I have every confidence that you will do it wonderfully. I swear to place my trust in you, just as I have with every Hatt before you. And all of the other engines will do the same."

Slight tears had begun to bead in Adam's eyes, and he swallowed sharply, staring with a glassy gaze up at the engine. A tentative hand came to rest on Edward's buffer. "I'll take care of you, Edward. You and all the others, whether I become Controller or a mechanic or whatever else lies before me. I promise."

"I'll look forward to it, then," Edward replied softly, his voice tinted by a gentle camaraderie, and Adam smiled lightly, wiping the remains of the tears away. A beat of silence stretched between them, the moon the only witness to an inherited promise sealed in soul.

Suddenly, vibrations sounded from Adam's pocket, and the young Hatt reached a hand in to grasp his phone. He glanced at the screen, eyes widening at what he saw. "Oh goodness, it's already this late... I'm so sorry to have kept you, Edward. I should be going home, and you ought to get some rest."

Edward just sighed; he probably didn't want to know what time it was if this was Adam's reaction. "Yes, I believe I shall. Take care on your way home, Adam, and please--feel free to seek me out again if you'd like. This has been quite an enjoyable talk."

The young man grinned, some of the poise from earlier creeping back into his posture as he made to leave the shed. "I think I'll take you up on that sometime, Edward. Good night!"

"Good night, Adam," Edward echoed, a smile on his face as the young man let himself out and quietly closed the shed door behind him. Once again, Edward was alone, save for BoCo's snores, but his firebox felt light.

As his eyelids fluttered shut, the engine's smile remained, and a single thought echoed in his mind.

Good night... Sir.

#ttte #ttte fanfic #te writes trains #ttte edward

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adventuringblind · 1 year

Text

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Fourteen: The Rise and the Fall

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Charles has a theory, Lando and Oscar get a better car, they group takes a trip to America to learn more about our reader

Warnings: Ferrari strategists, blood, mentions of death, gore, mentions of past abuse and neglect, medical abuse and malpractice, no graphic descriptions but r*ape is alluded too, panic attacks, mentions of sickness, cults, witchcraft is mentioned along with burnings

Notes: This one was hard. It gets really dark so please read the warnings.

Also, thank you for all the support for my writing! I'm terrible at responding to comments, but I want you to know that I see them and I appreciate every single one of you!

Previous <-

Masterlist

It’s always weird when things go back to normal. It feels temporary. Like she’ll never be able to rest easy because something else is going to happen.

Even when they’re here, relaxing after a race.

Things had been so crazy lately that none of them wanted to join in on the after party. Instead, they all lay comfortably with each other.

"So I have a theory." States Charles. His body splayed out at the foot of the bed. Next to him is Oscar. Max is laying the correct direction woth his legs over the top of the other two. Then Lando and Y/N are leaning against the bed, curled into each other on the floor.

"That's dangerous." Snickers Max. He receives a scowl from the Monegasque.

"What's your theory, Charlie?" Pipes the girl on the floor. It's never mattered the idea or thought. She always wants to hear it.

"At least one person wants to hear it." He grumbles. "Anyway, y/n has four entirely different abilities, and now she has four partners. Do you think it was meant to be?"

"It is an odd coincidence." States Oscar. He looks up from his phone and considers the statement.

"We could see if there's more to it than you know." Lando says into her hair.

It's not something she would've considered a year ago. But now, with everything she's survived, maybe it would be worth a look around. Show her boys where she used to live.

It's not pretty by any means, but it is a part of her.

Before they could take a trip to her home, they had to get through Silverstone. Lando is excited the car upgrades are doing their job and Oscar is absolutely petrified.

It doesn’t show on the camera or when he’s in the car, but when they catch him before the race after qualifying third, he looks terrified.

Charles and Max were upset they couldn’t get to him, ,raving it to the other two to make sure he’s properly encouraged before the race starts.

She standing in front of him holding his face with her hands. It could almost be intimidating if she wasn’t complimenting every fiber of his existence. She does it to all of them on bad days and it never fails to make them smile.

“Os, you are an amazing driver. There isn’t anything that can change that. Now you just have a car to prove that you’ve always been good.”

She kisses his forehead before he’s called to get into his car. Lando makes sure to also give him a pep talk before his engineers have to drag him away.

She bolts back to the Redbull garage. She has her own job to do. Even though she spends majority of her time watching the race in the screen, she dies still analyze data.

It proves difficult, however, when three of her lovers are in the top three places. She had to bite her tongue to hold in her excitement.

Then the unlucky safety car. She knew Oscar would be disappointed, but he's still in fourth.

Max crosses first, followed by Lando. The two are absolutely ecstatic. She can see the mild disappointment when Oscar isn't in the third spot.

Charles is definitely upset with how his race went. He'll need cheering up as well. Finishing ninth and having his strategy messed over again was not something he'd wanted this weekend.

She runs off to find Charles and Oscar first. They're waiting just outside the weigh station and she can see the both with sollum looks.

"I don't care what anyone says. You two were amazing despite the difficulties."

Charles just hugs her. He's tired and words are hard. Her embrace is relaxing and all he needs right now.

When the two are consoled for the moment, she knows she has to let them go. Their media duties are still part of the job even if they hate them.

She gets to leave with Charles first. Oscar and Lando are still finishing up media duties, and Max is doing his best to avoid them but failing.

Charles crashes as soon as he's in the room. Face planting on the bed and screaming into the pillows.

She sits next to him and plays with his hair. "I wish I could just be happy for Max and Lando- even Oscar!"

"It's okay to be upset, Sharl. Feelings have a way of escaping like that." She whispers to him gently. She ponders for a moment. "Maybe a cheat meal is in order."

Charles lifts his gaze from the bed to her and smiles. "I think you're a genius."

The other three come back much later than expected. The three of them are far too exhausted to do anything else but sleep.

Max opens the door for the three of them and is met with the lovely smell of food. He didn't realize how hungry he was until now.

The two who'd left earlier are sprawled out with a blanket on the floor. They'd found that tables in hotels never have enough chairs. The floor has become their table in these scenarios.

"Welcome back! We got dinner!"

The stresses of the day, the highs and the lows, fade into the back of everyone's minds. Their company enough for each other.

They'd left for America the next morning. She'd begged Sébastien to come with them, and he'd accepted. Though he was meeting them there.

None of them had seen her home before. The boys made sure she knew she could back out at any time. But it's almost as if she needs this. To finally close the lid on the box.

Sure, there may he a group of people after her now, but her father can't touch her. She has the freedom to go searching for her own answers.

Seb landed before them, so he was waiting for them when they landed. She jogged to hreet him and threw herself into his arms.

Seb had barely talked to Oscar in the past, and now they've had some video calls as a group, but nothing major. So, he settles for a hand shake and a warm greeting. "These four treating you well?"

"Always room for improvement." Oscar laughs as the other four feign hurt and shock.

"I think we're going to get along fantastic."

The ride from the airport to the property is ridiculous. A handful of back roads and small towns make for fun stops, but it's still long.

She'd had to message Guenther about the address. She'd never needed to learn it, so she never had. She only knew property lines.

Finally, they're turning down a familiar overgrown dirt driveway. Everyone can see her body tense up.

"Are you okay? Should we stop here?" Asks the Brit. He's trying not to let his worry for her show, but his voice fails him.

"No, I'm fine. It's still about a mile from this point."

The land is overgrown and eery. It's not long til they can see the warehouse in the distance. It was larger than they'd imagined. Lando had pictured something like a shed and Oscar just ran with that idea. Charles thought maybe a prison or one of those abandoned hospitals. Max didn’t care, he just knew whatever it was couldn’t be good.

The building itself looked menacing. The sides are covered with vines and there were random bits of debris scattered around the property. It looks both unsafe and unsanitary.

Seb stops the car a few arid away from the entrance. Everyone getting out of the SUV, except for her. Charles comes around the side and opens her door. “Mon amour, we don’t have to go any further.”

“I want too, just need a minute.” She sighs. Charles can see the glaringly obvious unease in her eyes. He laces her fingers with his and lets her take her time getting out of the vehicle. He refuses to let go even after she’s out.

They walk hand in hand to the metal door that everyone assumes is the entrance. Max has set himself in front of everyone, nothing unusual, but he kept Lando and Oscar behind him instead of letting them walk with him. The gloomy feeling of the building not helping protective nature.

Max attempts to get the door open. His attempt being foiled by things in the way. She watches on as the five males struggle to get it open.

“What the hell is behind this thing?” Asks a heaving Lando.

“Shelves I reckon.” Guesses the Aussie.

then the door busts open and then tumble down to the floor in a heap. “It was locked actually.” Smirks the female. “took me a minutes to get it open.”

Charles groans and shoves himself out from underneath the pile. “We loosened it for you.”

The building is just as eery inside as out. The group stick close to eachother as they explore about.

The female leads them to where the braker box is. All of them practically keel over when she gets on the lights.

The sight they are met with is terrifying. Almost as if they walked into some sort of horror movie.

There are bodies tagged and lined up, which explains the rotting smell. Machinery litters the ground. Bigger machines that none of them know the purpose of are in their own sections of the warehouse.

"It's not what you were expecting..." She fidgets with her fingers.

"I don't think it's about what we were expecting. I think that all of us hate that you had to live like this." Oscar explains carefully. Charles had yet to let go of her, and Oscar now sits himself on her other side.

Lando peeks his head around another set of shelves. "It almost looks like he was part of a cult." He scrunchs his nose in disgust.

"I wouldn't be shocked if he was." She points to a set of stairs. "My room and his office are up that way."

The group trek up the stairs and are met with a set of office style rooms. She leads the all the way down the hall to the furthest door on the right. She pushes open the door and inside is her room, exactly how she’d left it. The screen is even still missing from when she took it out. “This is my room.”

Her partners and adopted father file into the room. It’s not a large room and there is not much to look at. A mattress on the floor and some old books is as exciting as it gets.

They are all rendered speechless and she doesn’t know what to do. So she takes them to the next room. The door across the hall is filled with machinery. What they used to help with the F1 cars. The bigger machines are scattered about, but this room help some of the smaller testing components. “I spent a lot of time in here.” She smiles at them to hopefully lighten the mood.

She steps out again and points at the door beside it. “That one is where he used to hold the corpses. Since the Haas team was here often enough he didn’t want them to be seen.” Then she sighs again and starts back down the hall. “The rest is really for storage. My father spent majority of his time in the lower levels.”

“We can stop now if you need. Or take a break and get some air.” Suggests Seb. His fatherly instincts tell him this may be to much for her right now.

She shakes her head no. “I’ve just always hated the basement. It’s where he keeps all the important things.”

Max eyes her skeptically. “Important things?”

“Like food and my mothers corpse. The only way I could get food is to try and bring her back.” She shrugs. She can hear Max suppressing an angry growl.

They make their way to the stairs on the opposite end of the building. The lighting down below considerably darker then the upper floors.

The basement room looks as if it’s been carved out. Like it wasn’t here originally. At the center lies a beautifully adorned casket. She gestures to it. “This is my mom. I’ll spare you the disgust and not open that.”

The other side of the room houses a desk with books and a laptop. She’d forgotten he had that. She’d gotten caught on numerous occasions trying to use it. She eyes the laptop and then slips it into her bag. Something Seb had made her bring just incase she did find anything she wanted to take with her.

The laptop is newer then she remembers. Something like what she used for work.

The vials that he’d been injecting her with to supposedly rewrite her DNA are still sitting on a metal table, along with other medical tools.

She steps over to it. The bed he used to operate wasn’t a a traditional one. It was another casket sent on top of a table. He’d used it to remind her of why he was doing it, what her mother had felt, where she lays now permanently.

She can feel the walls closing in as she opens it. The woods inside still stained red. Memories of the times he’d cut her open just to sew her back up.

The vague sensation of teeth and hands on her skin fills her senses as the ground falls out from under her.

Max is the first to hear her breathing quicken. He’s standing almost next to her, observing, taking in every piece of information. Charles had gone with Seb and Oscar to explore a different offshoot. Seb had noticed weird writing on the wall and wanted to investigate.

They were right down the hall so Max wasn’t to worried about them. His attention now completely on the female.

She shrieks. Her body goes rigid. Then she’s falling the the ground.

Max catches her and Lando slides down next to them. Both look between her and each other. A dull pulsing light emitting from her skin but her hands and trailing all the way to her chest.

The other three come back into the room and frantically look around. “What happened.”

“She was looking at something, froze, then fell over.”

Lando can’t even get words off his tongue. Max can see him struggling and knows he needs to get everyone out of the building. “Seb can you help get Lan out of here?” Seb nods and drags the Brit back up the stairs. He would’ve sent Oscar with him since his demeanor seemed to calm the other, but ever since the bunker incident, Oscar was more panicked when away from her.

Charles and Max haul her up the stairs and out of the building while Oscar guides and moves things out of the way. He also took her bag so they didn’t have to deal with it swinging back and forth.

Finally they are able to drape her body across the middle seat of the SUV. The glow now diminishing but the girl’s condition seemingly getting worse. The blood, sweat, and tears they are used to seeing are being intensified.

Seb manages to get Lando to breathe then the five are able to discuss.

“I think her father may have been a cult leader.” Confesses Seb. The Germans eyes are sad and distraught but he’s doing his best to remain calm.

Oscar is sitting with the females head in his lap. He’s almost defensively holding her body, something they all noticed he started doing after they were rescued. “We found a book about her mom. Looks like the same handwriting in all the notes.”

“The scariest part is that she endured the same things.” Charles runs his palms over his bare skin, a nervous tick that Max tried to keep him from doing because he rubbed his skin raw. “She could do similar things to her, it seems. Whatever happened after is hard to piece together. She wasn’t meant to get pregnant, I don’t think, at least not when she did.”

“She served as some sort of alter. They did things that ar unspeakable.”

Max stands behind Charles and holds his hands to hopefully ease the need to turn his skin red. “Do you think the cult is who’s after her now? If they need her to complete whatever rituals they’re doing, it would make sense they’d want her back.”

“I think that she is more to them then any of us could’ve guessed.”

The ride back to the airport was long and contemplative. They decided not to go back to Monaco for now and instead head with Seb to Germany. The female still had yet to wake up and Lando is becoming increasingly more aware war of every time she inhales.

He sits in the back seat with Charles, leaning into the monegasque’s shoulder. “Do you think she’ll be ok?” He asks.

“Pretty sure nothing can get her at this point. Plus, she’s already looking better.” Charles reassures him. Yet the sinking feeling in his gut is still there.

They have too carry her into the plane. Lando watches on as Max bundles her in his arms and carries her inside. Lando jumps on the opportunity to sit with her. He eases her body into his, grateful that she’s not burning up anymore.

They sleep most the ride home, aside from Charles who is picking through the found journals. Lando is finally able to rest his mind to the feeling of her steady heartbeat against his hand.

Hanna is in full mother mode as soon as her husband, daughter, and her daughters four partners step through the door.

She has them set the unconscious female in the room they keep for them should they visit. She's quick to clean her up and change her clothes into comething comfortable. She doesn't let any of the boys near her, much to their protest.

It's quiet around the house. Nobody knows what to say. Where are they supposed to go from here?

Seb pulls the laptop out of the girls bag and finds a suitable charger. He knows he'll have to pick through it eventually. He just hopes she'll be awake before then.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" Lando is the first to voice his concern. "I know she always does... but this feels different."

"Don't say such things, Lando." Charles has kept himself curled up in an empty corner of the living area. He's dealt with so much loss already that he doesn't think he could take another. He's been spiraling since she's been out of sight, and it's visible in everything he does. "My question is why they wouldn't put her father away to begin with if he's leading a cult?"

"They may not have known. It seems they've been around for some time, and since Haas was paying him for work, I don't doubt there was money involved." Seb leans futher back into his chair. Even he is panicking. Though he's trying to remain calm for the youngers sake.

Max can't take it anymore and gets up from his place on the sofa and plant himself next to Charles. He wraps the Monegasque in his arms protectively. His body doesn't relax all the way, but the tears he'd been holding back now find Max's shirt.

Oscar is pacing. He's been pacing. He hasn't stopped moving since the female left his sight, and he's on the verge of toppling over mentally.

He's been mumbling this to himself. Definitely not things they've heard him say before. They all look as him with worried expressions.

"Jack?" He freezes at the nickname. Then he finds a place next to Lando who'd called for him.

The look in his eyes is one they've grown used to. He's thinking through a problem. Looking for every tiny detail. "They were talking about things in front of me while I was drugged." He declares.

Now it's everyone else's turn to freeze. They hadn't pushed Oscar to talk about things. He'd been doing that with his therapist. They'd almost that forced on him after he couldn't get past the separation anxiety. Thankfully, he had complied and was doing better mentally when he wasn't with one of them.

Now, to hear him openly state such a thing is both promising and terrifying.

They continue to just listen and let him work at his own pace. Lando plays with his fingers to remind him he's here with them and safe.

"There were complications with the birth. They knew her mother was getting older, so they would need a replacement, but she ended up in labor early so they couldn't finish."

"The journal also gives detailed instructions about what the process was that created them." Charles adds into the conversation. Pieces are starting to click together now. "It's dated back from forever ago as well. Something about starting from a line of witches, supposedly."

"But why do they need her specifically?" Max leans in closer to Charles. The unease and addiment need to keep his lovers safe is doing nothing for his own anxiety.

Seb leans forward now. He's pondering what he found as well, trying to link every bit of information. "Because she's the last of the bloodline." Seb only gets stares in return.

"Explain, please." Despite all of them being confused, Lando is the only one brave enought to voice it.

"Well, since I've picked her up when she was fifteen, it's always been men that she's talked about. There were never any females in the picture, I believe. So she might be the last of her bloodline."

"The journals sort of prove that as well. The history of it is muddled and doesn't make sense, but there is a story written about a lone female survivor during a burning. Some of the men who had already fancied her decided to use her in whatever ways they deemed neccecary, but she only ever bore one child." Charles recalls the story but cringes while doing so. He was sparing them the most gruesome details. "I think they took is as a sign and continued the tradition."

"Then why would he make it so she can't have a child?" Again, Lando asks the questions that confuse all of them.

"Anger makes you do unfathomable things." Seb sighs.

It doesn’t take long for the computer to charge. Everyone sits at the dining room table as seb opens it up for the first time. All of them are shocked it’s not locked. The man obviously didn’t think it was going anywhere.

Seb looks through some files and they can see him getting paler by the second. “There are videos and pictures on here and a few emails back and forth with a couple people but that’s all.” Then he pales out completely. “Hanna, can you make sure the kids stay upstairs?” Seb turns the computer toward her for a mere second and she looks sick.

“Don’t go too far, please.” She pleads, then hurries off upstairs. It’s an agreement that he’ll stop if he can’t take it. A plea that he won't invade too much of their adoptive daughters' privacy.

“If you guys want to see this that we’ll make so all of us only do this once. Otherwise we can figure it out.”

“What have you seen so far?” Questions Max. His nerves are increasing with every second and his leg is bouncing rapidly underneath the table.

Again, Seb looks like he might vomit. “I’ve already see photos of what they did. It’s not good and she’s completely exposed in most of it.”

All of them collectively swallow.

All of them felt sick watching the screen, listening to the screams. They moved past a majority it to the parts where a man (presumably her father) was monologuing.

He wasn’t meant to fall for her. Only meant to do what was necessary and give them a continuing line. When she died prematurely, he went into a completely psychotic state of mind.

Everything they did that involved the mother seemed bad enough. It only escalated for the female that’s currently unconscious.

then he revealed his plan.

Make her strong enough to bring back his beloved. Make sure she can’t have any children so they don’t have a choice if they want to attempt to continue in their faith of these miraculous beings.

And he caught every second of it.

Every ritual.

Every procedure.

Every time they took something from her.

They all felt sick. The rage mixed with violent sickness shaking all the males to their core.

They just want their toy back.

And they wouldn’t rest until they had her back.

Next ->

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nordschleifes · 11 months

Text

chapter seven — el perdedor

➝ when that fateful day in montreal is repeated in belgium, charlie is sure that the fairy tale with fernando has come to an end. she just didn't expect that she hadn't been the biggest loser that afternoon.

➝ word count: 7,3k

➝ warnings: fight, cursing, bribery, an angry cat, smut

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Sitting inside the plane, tears were streaming down Charlie's cheeks. She was trying not to cry in earnest in fear of disturbing the two other passengers beside her, a man dozing against the window and a woman in the middle seat who was immersed in the movie. But, she wanted to. She needed to. She needed to get all the frustration and anger consuming her out.

She needed to do something other than ruminate on the fact that the fairy tale of just over two months between her and Fernando was over, ending in the worst possible way.

Fernando had just come off of an incredible streak, one that not even the most optimistic of his fans could have imagined. After the unsatisfactory race in Barcelona, he was fully motivated to get back onto the podium in Montreal.

— It was like I said yesterday, that was our last race off the podium, nena — Fernando had murmured to her, the morning before the first free practice of the weekend, while they were still in bed together.

Driven by that desire to turn the tables, the two agreed to use a more aggressive setup than Lance's. However, against Max Verstappen's practically unstoppable RB19, they needed much more than a good strategy and a perfectly tuned car.

They needed luck.

— Is Max in trouble? — asked Fernando, a few laps after his first stop, during the safety car caused by George Russell. At that point they were in second place, more concerned with fending off Lewis Hamilton than chasing the championship leader through the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.

— He hasn’t reported anything, why?

— He’s braking too early in the turns.

— Understood, I'll check — she said as her eyes scanned the telemetry charts, comparing the two drivers' lines and noticing that Max's braking line was longer and smoother than Fernando's. “Something's wrong”, Charlie kept repeating to herself, as he watched the lap times continue to fall, lap after lap.

Then, Charlie got a message from Max, in a way. The engineers at the race support room in Silverstone informed her that he had complained of overheating brakes and had been advised by the team to cool them. After a brief conversation with them about what to do and the possibility of Max retiring, she opened the radio channel with Fernando.

— Max has problems with his brakes. Difference dropping one second per lap. It's time to attack, Fer.

— Copy — he replied.

Watching him chase the RB19 around the track like a predator was fascinating to Charlie. The way he found the tenths of a second in each curve, passing within what seemed like millimeters of the Armco barriers sent a shiver through her body. It was sensual, wild, a kind of dance.

— You have DRS available — she said, as soon as she saw the three letters light up on the screen, an indication that Fernando had closed the gap enough. The closest he'd been all season.

And then, at the hairpin, when Max braked, his wheel locked. Losing the apex of the corner, he headed towards the gravel trap, opening the door for Fernando to pass and take the lead on the Casino Straight.

— Yes! C’mon! — he said into the radio, as Charlie took a deep breath, trying to contain herself as much as the garage cheered effusively. She had to concentrate on helping him build up a lead over Lewis, while Verstappen struggled with his own car before pitting and retiring.

When the dark green car crossed the finish line, she felt like she was on cloud nine. On the other side of the radio, Fernando roared in celebration, as if he was letting off the pressure of ten years without a win in Formula 1. All those years of frustration, doubts and challenges in other categories, in search of that feeling, that moment, those seconds when the work had finally come to fruition.

It was a mission accomplished. The plan had finally worked.

Meeting him after the race, drenched in sweat and champagne, was another thrill. The effort not to kiss him right there in the pit lane, in front of the world, was overwhelming, despite him not making an attempt to hide his delight at seeing her. He hastily shoved the first place trophy in the hands of his press officer to run towards her, picking Charlie up and twirling around with her in his arms.

— Thank you, thank you, thank you — Fernando repeated in her ear, while she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks — Thank you so much.

— I have to thank you — Charlie said softly as he set her down on the ground — You're amazing, Fer.

— And you're beyond amazing, nena — he replied, before hugging her again, the champagne that was still on his overalls soaking into the front of her uniform polo, leaving a damp spot.

Two more wins followed, one in England and one in Hungary. At both races, the feeling of seeing him happy and on top of the podium was sublime for Charlie, not just because she'd done her job well and helped him achieve his goals for the weekend. It was the smile on Fernando's face, the pride in his eyes when he heard the notes of the Spanish anthem, the way he hugged her when he finally saw her in the pit lane each time.

And just when everything seemed perfect, everything fell apart.

Sunday's race at Spa, the last before the summer break, had been a replay of that catastrophic afternoon in Canada when they were both at McLaren. When Charlie heard Raúl tell her that there was a problem with the fuel consumption, a pit formed in her stomach.

This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't. She didn't deserve this, Fernando didn't deserve this, especially not when they were so close.

— The injection system is feeding the power unit erratically, consumption is above normal — the performance engineer said, pointing to the screen where the graphics foreshadowed the impending disaster.

Charlie felt her heart pounding in her chest.

— Is there anything we can do?

— At that point, all we can do is retire the car to see if we can save something from this power unit.

— Is that coming from mission control? — she asked, trying to buy herself some time to try to put into action some breathing exercise Hannah had taught her.

— Yes, and Mike already gave the okay.

Heaving a sigh, Charlie pressed the button next to Fernando's name.

— Fer, we have a problem that we can’t resolve. We're going to have to retire the car — she said, as she braced herself for a catastrophic response. An outburst of curses or worse, him fighting with her over the radio. “Please, Fernando”, she begged mentally, while he remained silent, seeming to process the information that his race was over.

— Understood — the driver muttered.

As soon as the car pulled up in front of the garage, Charlie took off her headphones and left them on top of the pit wall. She was beside herself with sadness and dread. She tried to assure herself that the team made the best decision for their championship ambitions, she couldn't help but think of how frustrated Fernando would be about it.

At that moment, it was killing her.

She watched as he climbed out of the car and handed Mikey, his mechanic, his HANS device, and walked toward the back of the garage without even taking his helmet off. Charlie ran after him, crossing the pit lane to try to catch up.

— Fernando! — she exclaimed, as he walked towards the paddock — Wait, Fernando.

However, Fernando continued to ignore her, making no effort to take his helmet off as he walked into the Aston Martin motorhome. The guest area was full, and all eyes were fixed on him, then on her. "I must look like an idiot", Charlie thought to herself, as she climbed the stairs.

She was out of breath by the time she reached the door of Fernando’s drivers room, but the door was open. She could see that he’d finally taken off his helmet and balaclava, his hair damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles.

— Fer...

— What? — he asked gruffly, as he unzipped his overalls, revealing his black fireproofs.

— I'm sorry — Charlie said quietly.

The driver stared at her, not seeming to believe what she was saying.

— You’re sorry? Do you think that being sorry is of any use?

She blinked, stunned.

— I…

— Your sorry does me no good, because, in the end, I'm not on the track. I'm not doing what I love to do!

— I know…

— Why didn’t you let me stay out? — Fernando exclaimed, taking a step forward — Why didn't you ask me if I could continue?

— The car wouldn't have made it to the flag — Charlie stammered, her hands feeling clammy and cold.

— I could have figured it out, I could have.

— There was an issue with the fuel injection system, there was no way to keep going without severely damaging the rest of the power unit...

— Of course, for you there's never a way to keep going. The solution for you is to always accept the circumstances and do nothing.

— I never said we shouldn't do anything — she snapped.

— But you accepted that there was no resolution instead of talking to me and analyzing the alternatives.

— Do you think there's time to debate options in the middle of a race? Especially with you going 300km/h?

— It’s better than taking whatever shit life throws at you! You've been doing that since your McLaren days, haven’t you?

— Fernando, we don't need to talk...

— Actually, we don't need to — he said, cutting her off — You know I'm right. You know you’d been content for too long with that shitty team, with that fucking engine, and now that you have a chance to fight for more, you give up, just like you’re back there.

Charlie swallowed hard. Fernando didn’t know it, but by the end of her time at McLaren, she felt like she had stayed with the team far longer than she should have. Her working environment there was chaotic, made worse by the issues with the Honda and Renault engines, and the team’s inability to be competitive. But McLaren had taken her on fresh out of university and gave her a career in Formula 1, so she felt obligated to stay out of gratitude, even as things deteriorated season after season.

— You know why I was there so long...

— You stayed for the worst reason possible — he exclaimed — Staying only because your grandfather only likes English teams, that's ridiculous!

— He has his reasons...

— Stupid reasons that had you stick with a shitty, uncompetitive team when you could’ve moved on to bigger and better things! — Fernando shouted.

— Why does it matter? — Charlie said, raising her voice to match.

— It matters because you keep acting like you still work for McLaren and that all you can do is just give up!

The rational part of Charlie begged her to turn her back and leave Fernando talking to the walls, to leave him to take out his own frustration with the awful afternoon he'd had. However, she couldn’t help but stand there.

— What do you mean by that?

— You keep acting like a fucking loser!

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

— A loser? — she murmured, feeling her throat tighten and her lower lip quiver.

— Yes, that’s what I said. Are you deaf?

— Fernando…

— Charlotte, just get out of here and leave me in peace.

She thought of thousands of things to say at that moment. However, all Charlie could think to do was to leave the room. She walked to the engineers' office to pick up her backpack, feeling disoriented. “I have to go, I have to get out of here”, she thought, as she walked out of the motorhome, down the paddock, straight through the exit turnstiles, all without pause.

While waiting for the Uber, Charlie sent a quick message to Raúl, making up an excuse for having to leave before debriefing with Fernando. The last thing she needed was for him to say even worse things in front of everyone else.

In less than three hours, she was flying back to England without a second thought. There was no reason for it. It was all over.

— Miss? — someone said, touching her shoulder as she stared out the window. Charlie startled a bit before turning her head to see that there was a flight attendant standing in the aisle, a worried expression on her face — Do you need anything?

She hesitated for a few seconds, her mind searching for something plausible to say.

— No, I’m okay.

— Are you sure?

— Yeah, it's just something in my eye — Charlie lied, rubbing at her eyes in an effort to cover for herself.

— Well, if you need anything, we're here for you.

— Thanks — she replied, giving a sheepish smile.

After landing, Charlie drove to her grandparents' house to pick up Ron. Her grandparents always watched Charlie’s cat while she was out of town. As she put the cat’s carrier in the back seat, Amanda asked about her puffy eyes and red nose, irritated from rubbing it on the sleeve of her team sweatshirt.

— I'm fine, grandma, don't worry — Charlie said, as she sat in the driver's seat, forcing a smile.

If only she believed what she was saying.

Returning to her empty apartment was dismal. It was the start of summer break for Charlie. For the next four weeks, there would be no Formula 1, no traveling, no simulations to analyze, no videos to watch, no plans to make.

In a way, it was a good thing, as it would give Charlie the time and attention to focus on other things. She was determined to use the break wisely. She had a bookcase to assemble after buying it for her office over three months ago. There was a faucet in her kitchen that was leaking and needed to be fixed. She needed to organize her vinyl record collection after dismantling it to find one specific record to show Fernando during a video call — one of what seemed like hundreds that they’d had over the past few months.

“Forget about him”, Charlie told herself, shaking her head in order to physically push the thought away. He was part of the past, a reminder of something that no longer existed. The Fernando of the past few months was just a ruse. The real Fernando was the guy she’d known for so long. The real Fernando was the two-time world champion, demanding and uncompromising, who said and did what he wanted without regard for how his actions affected other people. The Fernando that she’d come to like was just in Charlie’s imagination, he never really existed, not even in her dreams.

"Was it all just a lie?", she asked herself, as she laid down on the bed with Ron purring at her feet.

She fell asleep with that question on her mind.

The first week of the summer break was tedious. Charlie busied herself with household chores, trips to the factory, and visits to her grandparents, not allowing herself a moment to think. It was intentional — she wanted to distract herself and not allow herself to imagine what it would be like to spend her summer break in Switzerland, especially not at a particular villa in Lugano.

But the second week was torture. With the factory on lockdown and a mandated restriction on the work she could do, her avenues for distraction were limited. She’d accomplished all of the chores around the house she’d wanted to do, as well. With no reason to leave the house, she found herself trapped in a cycle that consisted of drinking wine, watching LOST and feeling frustrated every time her cell phone’s screen lit up and it wasn’t Fernando.

After what had happened at Spa, she hadn't received any calls or texts from him. In fact, it was as if he had disappeared entirely, as not even his Instagram had been updated after the race. Charlie didn't want to admit it, but the lack of updates made her more anxious. She couldn’t even find recent photos from fans that had him tagged. What kind of Formula 1 driver was he to not post a single photo of his summer vacation?

That was the question she asked herself on Saturday night, when the doorbell to her flat rang.

— I’m coming, calm down — Charlie yelled, as she set her glass of wine on the coffee table and extricated herself from her sofa. She’d been lying on it with Ron on her chest for the last few hours, watching something mindless on television. It was strange for someone to ring her doorbell, and her first thought as she opened the door was that it would be Rita, her elderly neighbor, asking for her help with something.

But, it wasn’t Rita.

Standing in the doorway, wearing a black T-shirt, looking forlorn with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, was Fernando. However, it wasn't the clothes or the messy hair that caught Charlie's attention. It was the sadness present in his eyes.

— Good evening — he said softly.

— What are you doing here? — Charlie asked, her voice as dry and unimpressed as she could make it.

— I came to see you.

She snorted.

— As far as I last knew, you said you didn't want to see me anymore.

The driver let out a heavy sigh.

— Can we talk?

— We're already talking.

— Somewhere more private, I mean.

Charlie pursed her lips. Her neighbors definitely didn't need to see her arguing with Fernando Alonso in the hallway. She stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. He couldn't help but smile as he walked past her, into the living room of her flat.

Closing the door, Charlie took a deep breath before turning towards him. The driver was standing in the middle of the living room, looking around curiously. Seeing him in her flat gave her an odd feeling, until she realized something.

That was the first time he’d been to her flat.

— How did you find my address? — she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

— I spoke with HR — Fernando replied with a smile.

— And they gave you my address without saying anything?

— Of course not. They told me they couldn't hand over sensitive information about another employee, even someone who works closely with me. I tried to argue that I needed your address to send you a birthday gift, but they didn’t buy that.

She blinked.

— My birthday isn’t until October.

— I know.

Charlie hesitated, trying to puzzle out the situation.

— So, how…

— I made a personal appearance in the HR office and had a conversation with an intern. If you want an important tip for life, always have an envelope with you, you never know when you'll need it.

Charlie was shocked.

— You bribed an intern to get my address?

— Bribery is a very strong word, Charlie.

— How else would you describe it?

— I prefer “gratitude for services rendered”.

Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe what he had done.

— And how much did my address cost?

— Less than Lewis’ mechanics cost me in 2007, that's for sure.

— How much? — Charlie repeated the question, placing a hand on her hip.

— A hundred pounds and an autograph.

She snorted, half outraged, half impressed by his audacity. Charlie couldn't fathom how troublesome that had been. Bribing someone for personal information could lead to serious problems within the company, both for him and the intern. But at the same time that she was pissed off, a part of her was in awe of all that effort on his part.

— What do you want, Fernando?

— I already told you, I wanted to see you.

— Well, if that's all, you’ve seen me, so you can go now.

— Charlie — he murmured, in a sad tone — I want to talk…

— What could we possibly have to talk about, Fernando?

— Charlie, you know what we have to talk about, and that’s what happened in Spa…

She shook her head.

— If you skipped out on your vacation to come to Northampton…

— Charlie...

— Just to complain about your fucking fuel injection system, you can leave right now, because I won't listen to any more of it…

— Fuck, Charlotte, I came to apologize! — he exclaimed, interrupting her.

Charlie felt her heart skip a beat.

— But…

— I came here to apologize to you — he repeated, in a lower tone — I came here to tell you that I was an asshole to you, and I’m sorry. I was upset about what happened at the race, but I shouldn't have any of the things I said to you.

— But you did say those things — she whispered.

— And I regret every word of it — Fernando continued — I regret saying that you act like a loser, I regret saying that your reasons for staying at McLaren were stupid. What I regret most, though, is when I asked you to leave me in peace.

— Why? — Charlie asked, feeling her throat tighten.

— Because it’s been horrible. It hasn’t been peaceful at all. Not having you by my side is the worst thing in the world, Charlotte. If living in peace means not having you with me, I would rather live in hell.

— Fer...

— I'm serious, Charlie — he said, stepping forward — I don't want you to leave me in peace. I want you to make every second of my life hell. Make my life an eternal torture if you need to. Please, make my life hell.

Her eyes burned with tears.

— I accept everything you do to me if it means I find heaven on your lips — Fernando whispered, his eyes wet — Torture me, destroy me. But please, don't leave me, Charlotte. Don't leave me alone. Because that is the real hell.

Charlie's lower lip quivered as her chest filled with a familiar, overwhelming warmth. Leaving Spa like she had had been horrible, almost as if she was leaving her own heart behind, and she’d found out the hard way that it was exactly what she’d done.

When she turned and left Fernando’s driver room, she’d left her heart with him.

— Come here, dickhead — she finally said, opening her arms.

Fernando stepped towards her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. With her head nestled against his neck, Charlie closed her eyes and allowed the tears that had been building to spill down her cheeks onto the fabric of his T-shirt. A few seconds later, he pulled back slightly, looking down at her. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp.

— Thank you — he whispered, resting his forehead on hers.

— For what? — she asked quietly.

— For not giving up on me.

She smiled as she brought a hand to his face, gently cupping his cheek.

— If I didn't give up on you even when you were the biggest asshole in the world, I wouldn't give up on you now.

Giggling, he moved closer to Charlie's face, kissing her gently. The taste of their tears mingled with the taste of the wine she had been drinking. After a few seconds, the driver pulled her face away slightly, his nose brushing her skin.

— Mi cielo. Mi paz. Mi luz — he murmured, pecking her lightly between the words.

Charlie couldn’t understand what his words meant, but hearing them in his delicious accent were enough to make her melt in his arms and kiss him even harder. As she felt Fernando's hands sliding down her back towards her ass, something inside her started to burn, her skin tingling.

She needed more than hugs or kisses.

She needed to fuck him.

Tugging on the front of his shirt, Charlie started to lead him through the corridors of her flat towards her bedroom. They stumbled on the way, unable to keep their hands off each other, divesting each other of their clothes as they walked. It would be almost funny to an outside observer, with arms getting trapped in t-shirts, a lock of Charlie’s hair ending up in Fernando’s mouth in the chaos, the stumbling and grasping and groping at the wall to find the bedroom lightswitch. However, as soon as Charlie felt the edge of her mattress behind her legs, a wave of warmth ran over her skin.

— Mi nena — Fernando purred as he placed her on the bed, his teeth grazing her neck — Te extrañé tanto, mi cielo.

— Fuck, Fer — Charlie grumbled, bringing her hands up to his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin.

And then, a loud hiss made Fernando yelp and stand up, looking startled at something above Charlie’s head. Following his gaze, she realized they weren't alone in the room. Standing on Charlie’s pillow with his back arched, fur standing on end, and ears back, was Ron.

— I think someone isn't happy that we interrupted his nap — the driver said to her, with a smile. Then, he stretched out his hand towards the cat — Hello…

However, if he expected the cat to sniff his hand in greeting, he was wrong. Ron gave Fernando a warning growl, even louder than before, before swiping at his hand with his front paw. Charlie pushed Fernando off of her and stood up.

— No, Ron, not like that! — she said, scolding the cat as she picked him up and set him on the floor — Be nice! We’ve already talked about this.

As she watched the orange cat bolt from her bedroom, Charlie ran a hand over her face. She had forgotten about Ron’s tendency to nap on her bed. She was embarrassed, but at the same time, she certainly didn’t blame the cat. He had been snoozing peacefully in the dark before being so rudely interrupted by the presence of a stranger, after all.

— Ron, huh? — she heard from behind her. When she turned around, she found Fernando sitting on the bed, a mischievous smile on his face — I guess I know your cat’s name now.

— Yeah, that’s Ron — Charlie replied.

— I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan.

She blinked.

— I’m not… Not really.

The driver raised an eyebrow.

— But Ron is one of the characters, right? With red hair? I remember watching one of the movies with my nieces.

— I think so, but his name isn't Ron after Ron from Harry Potter.

— Where is his name from, then?

— Ron Dennis — she replied.

Fernando’s face fell.

— Are you joking?

— No, he's named after Ron Dennis.

Fernando laughed, incredulous.

— Did you name your cat after the guy who hates me?

— Yeah — Charlie said, closing the bedroom door.

— Charlotte! — the driver exclaimed.

— What? — she replied, with her hand on the doorknob — Are you bothered by my cat’s name?

— Of course, you named him after someone that hates me!

— Why do you think I chose that name?

Fernando blinked, looking shocked.

— Do you hate me? — he asked softly.

Charlie snorted, before stripping off the cotton bralette and shorts she was wearing, along with her panties. Then, placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him.

— Does it seem like I hate you?

Fernando was staring at her, his mouth open for a reply that seemed to get lost on the way to his lips. His pupils dilated as he took in every detail of her body, almost like he was trying to memorize details he’d seen dozens of times, from the fair and soft skin from her belly to the tattoo in her ribs of a V10 engine.

Charlie walked towards him, stopping in the space between his legs.

— I asked you a question — she said, her voice hard and serious.

— What was it again? — he mumbled, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

Charlie shook her head before touching her fingers to Fernando’s chin, gently tipping his head up to bring his gaze to hers.

— Does it seem like I hate you?

— No.

— Because I don't — she said softly, her fingers stroking his cheek — On the contrary. I quite like you, Fer.

Leaning on his shoulders, Charlie straddled Fernando's lap, her knees pressed against the mattress. The closeness of his skin to hers made her shiver, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that made something tingle just below her navel.

— Nena — the driver murmured, his hands drifting down to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

— I like you quite a bit, my dear — Charlie continued, as she felt his beard brush against her skin as he buried his face in her neck — And my cat's name doesn't mean anything anymore.

— Mi cielo — Fernando whispered, before bringing his hands to her cheeks and slowly lying down on the bed. Then he kissed her slowly, his tongue patiently exploring her mouth, as if their week apart had dulled his memory of what she felt like, and he wanted to remember every inch of her again.

Pulling away slightly, Charlie unbuttoned Fernando’s jeans. With a laugh, she pulled them down with his underwear. Fernando smiled as his erection was revealed.

— Do you have a condom, or do I have to go to the car and get one?

She rolled her eyes as she positioned herself on top of him.

— Only if you go downstairs like that.

— Like that?

— Naked — Charlie said, with a smirk — It would be fun to see.

— Do you think your neighbors would appreciate it? — he asked, his fingers pressing into her hips as she brought her hand to his cock and pumped it a few times.

— My neighbors include a gay couple and an elderly widow. The sight of a handsome man like you walking naked down the hall would probably be pretty exciting — she replied, bringing her face closer to his — But, I don't think we need a condom today.

— Don't you want to see me running to the car naked?

— I don't want them to see you naked — Charlie said, towering over him — That's for my eyes only.

Pulling her hips down onto his, Fernando let out a growl as he penetrated her, while Charlie let out a long sigh, the pleasure coursing through her body like a warm wave. They had already had sex dozens of times, in many places and positions, but the first few seconds always felt like the first time they became intimate on that night in Imola, like settling into a warm bath.

— All good? — he asked through clenched teeth.

— Yeah, my dear. And you?

— Yeah, just — Fernando stopped moving for a moment, seemingly to try and catch his breath — You're going to drive me crazy, nena.

Charlie chuckled.

— We’ll see — she replied, moving her hips slowly, gasping softly as she felt his cock brush against a specific spot inside her.

It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm that they both liked, with Charlie resting one hand just above the tattoo on his abdomen to steady herself. The sound of their bodies colliding mingled with their sighs and moans, as well as her wetness, which was already forming a shiny layer on his cock.

— Fuck — Fernando groaned, his hands making their way up her stomach until he could cup her breasts. The way he was touching her, with his rough fingers massaging her sensitive nipples, made heat course through Charlie's body in ever-increasing waves.

— Yes, Fer, yes — she moaned, tightening her hold on his hip, rubbing her own clit against his pubic bone. Charlie felt as if she were in limbo between agony and ecstasy, her muscles tensing as she chased her release. It was tantalizingly close, but still too far away.

Suddenly, Fernando decided to take matters into his own hands. He planted his feet on the mattress for maximum leverage, gripped Charlie's waist tightly and began to thrust, angling his hips so Charlie canted forward a bit, giving her more friction where she wanted it. The sudden change in pace had her letting out a loud moan, her nails digging into his arms.

— You're going to come… For me… Mi cielo ? — he asked through gritted teeth, his fingers pressing into her skin harder with each thrust. The driver seemed to be clinging to the little self-control left in his body to get her closer to her orgasm.

— I… Yes, fuck, yes!

— Then… Come — he growled, practically as an order.

And then, Charlie came undone.

Pressing her knees against his ribs, she felt her body become seized by the tension before relaxing, the pleasure coursing through her like an overwhelming tsunami. Beneath her, Fernando gave a few definitive thrusts, his voice strained as he called Charlie by her full name as he released himself, deliciously hot, inside her. Still shaking, she collapsed on top of him, her eyes half-closed and her heart racing in her chest.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like an eternity. There was no reason to move when she felt complete, with Fernando inside her, hot and pulsing as he gradually softened. There was no reason to move, not when she was enjoying being back where she should have been all along, where she always wanted to be.

— Are you okay, nena ? — Charlie heard Fernando whisper below her. Cocking her head, she found him looking at her with a tired little smile on her face.

— I’m wonderful. And you?

— I'm great, actually.

— Good — she replied softly, smiling.

A few seconds of silence followed, the two gazing at each other as if neither of them knew what to say. For Charlie, there weren’t words that felt adequate enough to describe what she was feeling. That almost unbearable feeling of joy and desire and satisfaction that filled her chest and made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

— I missed you — Fernando whispered, caressing Charlie’s cheek with his fingers.

— I missed you too — she said, smiling. Fernando smiled, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her gently, one hand sliding down her back, resting against the base of her spine in a gesture that felt equally affectionate and protective. It was a simple contact, but it felt so intimate that it made Charlie wish that time would stop, so that they never had to leave.

However, it was not to be.

The sound of Ron meowing and scratching at the bedroom door made her let out a long, frustrated sigh.

— I think someone isn't happy — Fernando muttered.

— He must be hungry — Charlie replied, snuggling his head on the driver's chest, trying to enjoy every last moment she could with him — This is normally when I feed him.

— Do you want to get up?

— No, but I need to get up. If I don’t, he will whine all night.

He placed a kiss on her forehead.

— Stay here, I'll get you something to clean you up — Fernando said, as he put her on the mattress and finally got out of Charlie's body. The empty feeling had her pressing her thighs together, trying to push away the discomfort.

— You can get one of the flannels from the bathroom — she instructed as watched him get out of bed.

— Where is that? — he asked, his eyes scanning the room, doubtlessly searching for his underwear.

— Second door on the left — Charlie replied, stifling a laugh when she realized he had a hand on his own cock — And you don't have to hide your dick here.

Fernando looked over his shoulder at her, a sly smile on his face.

— You're a naughty little thing, you know that? — he said, before taking his hand away and stepping out of the room. As Fernando disappeared into the hallway, Charlie saw Ron slip inside and jump onto the mattress. He sat at the edge of the bed, watching Charlie carefully.

He gave her a meow that sounded like a whine.

— Oh, my love — Charlie murmured, reaching out her hand to scratch his tufted ears. He backed away a little, before leaning his head closer and sniffing her fingers, which probably smelled like a Formula 1 driver to Ron. However, the cat soon relented, pressing his head into her hand — I'm going to feed you, okay? Just wait a little bit.

Fernando returned to the bedroom, already in his underwear and with a damp flannel in his hand. With a small smile, he sat on the edge of the bed, close to her legs. His presence made Ron hiss as the tip of his fluffy tail twitched angrily.

— No, Ron — Charlie scolded him again while scratching under his chin — No fighting with Fernando, he's my friend.

— Friend? — he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, resting a hand on one of her knees.

— Yeah, friend. My friend.

— Just your friend?

— Yes, is there a problem with that?

— No, Charlotte — Fernando replied, gently swiping the damp fabric over her labia — I just wonder if you let all your friends clean your pussy after having sex with you.

— Well, do you let all your friends ride your cock, Fernando? — Charlie asked, mimicking his sarcasm.

He chuckled, pulling his hand away from between her legs.

— Not all of them — the driver said, causing her to raise an eyebrow — Only one, actually. The prettiest one.

— Do I know her? — she asked, sitting up in bed.

— Yes, you see her every day in the mirror — Fernando replied, giving one of those smiles that made Charlie's heart melt — I'll take this to the laundry basket. Do you need anything?

— No, I’m fine. I need to get up and feed Ron.

— Want your clothes?

— I'll get something from the closet — she said, as she got up from the bed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. However, before going to the wardrobe, Charlie felt one of Fernando's hands slide around her waist, stopping her for a few seconds. When she turned her face, she found him staring at her with a goofy smile on his face.

— You're beautiful — he murmured.

— You already said that.

— I don't mind repeating myself.

— And I don’t mind hearing you repeat yourself.

— You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world.

She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before walking to her dresser, grabbing the first clothes she saw. Afterwards, she walked to the kitchen, Ron following after on her heels. She put a scoop of kibble in Ron’s bowl and crouched next to him, encouraging to eat, but watching his owner interact with the interloper seemed to make Ron lose his appetite. After a few minutes, though, he started picking at the food in the wide, flat dish, his head shaking as he crunched.

— Good boy. Now, it’s time to go to bed — she said, after Ron had seemingly eaten his fill. She walked back to the bedroom with Ron following after her again, jumping up to his usual spot next to Charlie’s pillow. However, upon seeing Fernando lying on the bed again, Ron hissed and left the room. "I'll sort this out tomorrow", Charlie thought to herself. Charlie laid down next to Fernando, and he threw his arm around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

— Good night, nena — Fernando whispered, kissing her neck.

— Good night, Fer.

The sun was shyly peeking through the crack in the curtain when Charlie woke up the next day. Stretching a hand across the sheets, she found it strange that they were cold. As she opened her eyes, trying to clear the remnants of sleep from her vision, she found that she’d woken up alone. She was a little puzzled, but went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

The silence inside the apartment was unsettling, especially with the knowledge that she’d fallen asleep in someone’s arms, and that someone was nowhere to be seen. However, as soon as Charlie entered the living room, she felt her heart warm.

Fernando was sitting in an armchair near the sliding door that led to her flat’s balcony. His face was illuminated by the sun’s rays that managed to break through the cloudy Northampton summer sky. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, and he seemed to be in his own world. As she got closer, Charlie noticed that Fernando was chewing on something.

The grumbling of an irritable cat made Fernando open his eyes and look down to his feet. Ron hissed at him again, clearly disturbed by Fernando’s presence, but too stubborn to actually move. After years of being the only male in the household, he clearly felt threatened by the arrival of another, especially one who stole his owner’s attention and affection. Fernando just smiled at the ginger-colored instigator.

— I didn’t think cats liked peaches — he murmured, taking another bite of fruit, the juice running down his chin, some of it getting caught in his beard. He swiped at the edges of his mouth with his fingers as the remnants made them glisten in the sunlight.

Charlie watched without saying anything, and felt something tingling below her navel, and felt her heart racing a little. The shine on his lips reminded her of the times when Fernando had laid her in bed and taken her to her climax with his mouth. The memory of him between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he pleasured her with his tongue made her melt.

It was then, seeing Fernando looking so comfortable in her flat, remembering their nights together, that made her realize just how much she had missed him.

Charlie had missed their stolen kisses and touches, the words murmured with desire in her ear. She had missed his stubble brushing the inside of her thighs, his tongue and fingers circling her clit, the satisfied sounds he made when he felt her pull at his hair.

Charlie walked quietly toward the balcony door, watching as Fernando took another bite of the peach. Then, as he chewed, he turned his face to her, giving her a small smile.

— Good morning, nena — he murmured, his mouth still full.

Without saying anything, Charlie eased herself into his lap, wrapping one of her arms around the back of his neck. Then she brought the thumb of her free hand to his chin, wiping away the juice and fruit pulp caught in his beard and bringing it to her mouth, savoring the sweet notes of fruit on her tongue.

However, nothing was sweeter than the way Fernando looked at her.

— Good morning — Charlie said, before kissing him slowly and deeply, enjoying the taste of fruit on his lips. It was sensual, almost erotic, and unlike anything she’d ever done. But she felt comfortable like this, like it was just part of their daily routine.

Pulling her face away from his, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck, eyes closed against the sunlight. "This is heaven", Charlie thought, as she felt Fernando caress her arm.

— Have you been up long?

— About 20 minutes, I think. Ron woke me up.

Charlie cocked her head toward Ron.

— He did?

— He climbed on top of me and stared at me for a while. When I tried to pet him, he started grumbling.

She sighed, looking down at the cat. Charlie felt bad for not taking their introduction more slowly, but there was nothing to be done. It wasn’t like she was expecting Fernando to drop by any time soon.

— Yeah, I don’t think he likes you.

— What a surprise, another Ron that hates me — he muttered.

— Well, unlike the human Ron, this one can be won over.

— How? Do I need to neatly slice up my fruit before eating it in front of him?

— No, we can start with treats. This Ron doesn't care how you eat your peaches.

— The human Ron does.

— Well, that’s just one of his problems — Charlie sneered as she stood up from Fernando’s lap. — You’re familiar with how bribery works, so let’s bribe this cat.

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