Latest Posts by blackswanmary - Page 4
ShawnXreader? Bratty reader getting a spanking from HBK?
Thank you, lovely Anon! Hope this hits the spot…
“Honey, I’m home!”
You grin at the sound of his voice as the front door opens and then you curse quietly as you realise the half-full takeout cup is still perched on the table. You leap up and grab it, swiftly tucking it away behind the couch. You’ve already had your quota of iced coffee ‘concoctions’ (as Shawn calls them), for the week and so you’ll be in trouble if he sees it.
You turn around with a smile and he drops his bag to the floor and opens his arms. With a happy giggle you leap into them and he kisses you, spins you around and sets you back on the floor before pulling you in for a deeper kiss. You close your eyes and drift into it when he suddenly stops and leans back, looking at you closely.
“What?” You pout at the abrupt end to the kiss but he just continues to stare, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Where is it?” He says, casting suspicious glances around the room and then turning back to you after noticing the ring of condensation on the table.
You feel yourself blush but try to appear nonchalant, saying with a frown, “Where is what?”
He gives you a warning look. “Baby girl, I can see the chocolate in the corners of your mouth and I can taste the coffee. Where is it - or did you finish it already?”
You roll your eyes and say huffily, “It’s only a drink.”
He gives his head a small shake and his tone is measured as he replies, “We’ve talked about this, remember, and you agreed that you were having too many of those things. You asked me to set a limit on how many you should have and so-”
“I wanted one!” You practically stamp your foot and your voice raises as you interrupt him.
All Shawn raises is his eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? Sounds like you need a time-out, little girl; go stand in the corner.”
Folding your arms tightly and pouting, you go to push past him but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “After you answer my question and tell me where it is.”
“Find it yourself,” you mutter, shrugging his hand off.
“Yeah, keep it up, brat. You’ve just upgraded from a time-out to a spanking.”
You’re annoyed at yourself for letting him down and for being caught out, but you know that now he’s said you’re getting a spanking there’s no way back from it, so it’s time for damage limitation. “It’s behind the couch,” you say quietly, head down.
“Go get it.”
Dragging your feet slightly you go and retrieve the cup, before turning back around to face him and he inclines his head towards the door.
“Into the kitchen and get rid of it.”
With a small sigh you do as you’re told, carrying it through to the kitchen where you remove the lid and pour the liquid down the drain. You don’t care - it no longer seems as appealing as it did before. You rinse out the cup too, and you’re about to dry it a little when his voice floats through to you.
“It doesn’t take that long - get your butt back in here!”
You return to the living room and he’s sat on the couch, waiting. You pause in the doorway and then he beckons to you.
“Over my knee. Now. You know what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”
You swallow and make your way over before slowly getting into position with your hips in his lap. He shifts you about a little and pulls your sweats and underwear down to your knees before guiding your arms out in front of you.
“You gonna keep those there, or do I need to hold on to your hands?”
“Keep ‘em,” You answer quietly and he strokes a hand down your back. The comfort is only momentary because in the next second his hand lands hard on your butt and you gasp with a mixture of shock and pain. He alternates between each cheek, delivering three more hard smacks and you whimper and clench your hands into fists.
“You know why you’re being punished, don’t you?” His free hand presses firmly into the middle of your back as he deals another half dozen blows.
“Uh huh - yes!” You correct yourself, knowing that you’re supposed to use your words.
He pauses the spanking for a moment and squeezes your cheeks. “Tell me,” He says quietly.
“I - I broke the rule about how many coffees I can have,” You say and then cry out as a fresh volley of hits lands on your skin.
“And…?”
You close your eyes briefly, feeling ashamed. “I - I lied to you about having it.”
“What else?” You don’t answer right away and so he unleashes again with a series of hard smacks that alternate on your cheeks, ending up with a couple of hits to your tender sit spot.
“I was rude! I’m sorry!” You kick your feet but to no avail as he just shifts to clamp one of your legs beneath his own.
“Quit struggling.” His tone is impassive and he reaches across to pinion your wrists without missing a beat before you have the chance to try and reach back to cover yourself. “You earned this baby girl, and you’re gonna take it.”
The only sounds for the next minute or so are the slap of palm against skin and you yelp and wriggle as he lands hard slaps to your bottom and thighs. Tears leak out, a mixture of pain and regret, as you twist your hands together within his grasp. Stupid coffee with it’s syrup and stupid chocolate cream…
“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise, please!” You cry out as the blows rain down, seemingly getting harder. How can his hands be so soft and yet so hard at the same time?
“Yeah, I bet.” He lands four more hard slaps, and the final one ends with his hand impacting and then rubbing firmly against your burning flesh. You wriggle forward as though trying to escape and then give in to the treatment, as however sore it is, the gesture signals the end of your ordeal.
“You gonna stick to our rules in future, baby girl?” He squeezes the flesh hard and you whimper, kicking your feet again.
“I promise!”
“Alright then,” He answers and releases you from his grip, helping you to your feet. “Into the corner now - five minutes.”
Normally you would pout and argue about corner time, but you’re fairly sure that your ass is a beacon and so without protest you allow him to set you upright and shuffle you to the corner.
“Hands on your head, baby girl. You have a little think there about our rules.”
Backside throbbing, you do as he says, amazed that your butt seems to have developed its own heartbeat.You know of course that you were wrong to break his rule, and even more so to lie about it. You sniff, feeling sorry for yourself and settle in for the wait…
~*~
“OK, we’re all done, baby girl. Out you come. Come on and give me a hug.”
You turn eagerly and throw yourself into his waiting arms, happily inhaling the scent of his skin. “‘M sorry,” You answer truthfully, “I won’t do it again.”
“Sure hope not,” He says, giving you a squeeze. “Much more fun things to do than punish you…”
You look up at him shyly. “Show me?”
…
TTT
The "help me please" breaks my heart. The man asked for help so many times. He honestly deserves being so happy now...
౨ 𝐅𝟏 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐎... ৎ ᯓᡣ𐭩
max verstappen is the type to remember anything you have said to him, from you favorite type of flower to your favorite memory of your childhood.
charles leclerc is the type to always ask for five more minutes in bed, you warn him that he’s going to be late but he just tightens his arms around you.
oscar piastri is the type to lay his head on your laps when you’re reading a book and simply ask to you read out so he can listen — will melt if you scratch his hair too.
lewis hamilton is the type to do that 'hand thing' yk? you’re walking behind him so he just extends his hand without looking for you to hold.
carlos sainz jr is the type to tuck your hair behind your ears if it gets in your face, it’s such a smooth movement that you often don’t even notice it.
lando norris is the type to be always taking pictures of you out of nowhere. “you look beautiful”, literally treats you like his muse.
yuki tsunoda is the type to cooks for you — he LOVES seeing your eyes shine every time you try the food and love even more when you shower him with kisses telling him what a great boyfriend he is.
george russell is the type to grab you hand and put in his pocket if it’s cold outside.
i don’t know if your request are open but i just wanna ask, can you do a headcanon of tom x model!reader. like the readers on vogue or she models for lingerie
ᡣ𐭩 TOM WITH A MODEL GIRLFRIEND
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omg i love this requesttt 😭 i hope you like it! and sorry for disappearing but school is slowly killing me 😻💕
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oh boy he's OBSESSED with you
always buying your magazines
would hang up posters of you on his wall
loves to attend your catwalks and is the loudest in the crowd for you
he pretty much doesn't pay attention to the other models, he's just waiting for you
he's literally Dylan Sprouse (iykyk, a whole ass green forest)
istg he would look at you like this
he's would uhm...please himself with pictures of you...
LOVES to take photos of you
and also likes to exchange photos 😀iykwim (freaky ahh)
let's just say he's very pleased with your body type since you're a model and he's really into curves and stuff like that (idk how to word it but if you've seen some of his interviews you probably understand)
makes sure everyone knows you're his
you have a lot of public appeal so he's both jealous and worried people would go too far
makes sure you don't turn your job into something toxic
LOVES when you model for lingerie, but only when he gets the photos lmfao
he's kind of jealous ofc
likes to surprise and visit you during fittings and photoshoots
obviously you also attend a bunch of his concerts, and he's more than happy to see you in the crowd
always locking eyes and getting nervous/shy to the point he has to look away and focus on his guitar 🤭
Bill obviously likes to tease him with: "excuse my brother, he's very busy looking in that particular direction!"
loves when you run backstage into his arms after (especially because you don't care if he's as sweaty as a dog)
I'd say his pda level is a 6-7/10, but if he's a little jealous (doesn't matter the reason) he's a solid 8-9/10
In his eyes you're the goddess of beauty (which you are pookie! 🤭💞)
Since he's so obsessed with you, he probably makes sure to please you most in bed
he's not really into dirty talking, but he definitely gives you some words of appreciation like "you're so fucking pretty", "you're perfect", "i'm so lucky", "this is all for me, right?"
Because of tour and different schedules, sometimes you're apart for a long time. But he never misses a chance to call and Skype you whenever he can!
he's so proud that you're his girl
Flirts with you 24/7
He would remind you everyday not to listen to the obsessed fans who give you hate for being his girlfriend
He would do the thumb thingy when holding hands or cuddling
He would flip off the paparazzi if he catches them say something mean to/about you
sometimes he would disapprove of your dresses/clothes if they're too revealing
in conclusion, he's your number 1 fan 🥳
Please Support My Education and Save Our Lives🙏
The Palestinian people are known as one of the most educated and knowledge-loving people in the world, with one of the lowest illiteracy rates. We have the ability to innovate and produce even in the most difficult circumstances, despite all the wars we have endured💪🍉👩🎓
I dream of continuing my studies to earn a Ph.D. after receiving a prestigious scholarship for pioneering women. However, I am currently stuck in Gaza and unable to pursue my educational journey and achieve my dream due to the war on Gaza💔😢
Meet 22 fellows awarded OWSD PhD fellowship
Please help me achieve my dream and preserve what remains of us by supporting my campaign. Thank you to everyone who has supported me at this challenging time🕊🌹💖
⏰ 🚨 attention please🙏🚨
Dear friends and compassionate supporters,
This is Eman Zaqout, from Occupied Gaza, Palestine. I am a Biotechnologist ,🩸💉 and scientific researcher contacting you at a really desperate moment.
I am seeking your assistance to raise funds for saving our lives, facing the starvation in Gaza and help me achieve my doctoral degree dream after being awarded OWSD PhD Fellowship for inspirational women🍉👩🎓
just like any motivated and loving life woman, and for years, I poured my heart and soul into my work at Al-Shifa Hospital and Turkish Palestinian Friendship Hospital, as Biotechnology Specialist serving cancer patients with compassion and skill.
photos of Turkish Palestinian Friendship Hospital before and after the IDF destruction
photos of Al-Shifa Hospital before and after the IDF destruction
I also gave medical lectures to students at different universities and training centers in Gaza👇☑
As a result of my outstanding grades in my study and the excellent performance in my job, I have been a holder of different scholarship and I am active participant in many research visits and scientific missions. 💪The last scholarship as at McGill University in Canada three months ago before the starting of the genocide in Gaza.😫
However,😥
My life changed dramatically when Israeli military launched a sweeping war against Gaza. My home and our neighborhood in the North have been destroyed along with our belongings and precious memories early in this crisis.😢💔
My job and my husband's job are gone. Israeli military forced us to evacuate from the north Gaza to the south where they claimed it would be the safe zone but it is not at all. Our sweet home and neighborhood have been destroyed 😥😭💔
Forced to flee with nothing but the clothes on our backs, today, we find ourselves sheltering in a displacement camp lacking access to sanitation, medical supplies, food and drinkable water. I will not talk a lot about the dire and unbearable life we have to go through, as no word can express it fairly 🥺😣
The good news in the midst of this tragedy, that I am one of the 22 women from the developing world who have been awarded OWSD- PhD fellowship to pursue my PhD study in Malaysia🍉💪. But now I am stuck in Gaza unable to achieve my dream because Israeli army has occupied and closed all the border crossings 😭💔
Meet 22 fellows awarded OWSD PhD fellowship
This genocide has been 11 months of hell and horror. We have reached a point where there is no hope left for us here in Gaza, where we are unfortunately just waiting for our turn to die.
Nevertheless,
I refuse to succumb to despair, holding on to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.
With your kindness and generosity🥺, I hope to survive the genocide and reclaim the path to achieving my doctorate 💉🩸
Your compassionate aid would mean the world to me and my family.🥺🙏❤🇵🇸✌
Dating John Bender Would Include...
requests are open for all :))
Pairing: John Bender x GN!Reader
Word Count: 882
Warnings: mentions of abuse
I hope you all enjoy :)
* at the beginning of the relationship, the energy was kind of stiff
* He still had those pictures of other girls in his wallet, and that made you kind of uncomfortable that he was still talking to some of them whilst you two were dating
* he noticed you looking at his expressions whenever he opened his wallet to see if he smiled whenever he saw those girls’ pictures
* you decided to talk to him about it one day after thinking for awhile
* “Hey, John?”
* “Yeah?”
* “I wanna talk with you about something.”
* “Go for it.”
* “Y’know how you have those photos of girls in your wallet?”
* “Yeah? What about it?”
* “It just makes me kind of uncomfortable that, y’know, since we’re dating and all, that you have pictures of other girls that you still talk to in your wallet.”
* he got kinda upset by the fact that you were sorta telling him what to do, so he left the room and didn’t talk to you for days
* You tried to talk to John in the hallways, passing notes in class and going up to him after school, but every time he would ignore your efforts
* You eventually gave up on trying to resume your conversation, which set him off because now you were ignoring him
* John passed you notes in class, as you did to him, but you'd just read the notes and put them away in your bag
* When the bell rang for lunch, you put your bag over your shoulder and walked out of class
* You were walking fine down the hallway when you were pulled in the contrary direction
* You looked to see John pulling you towards the front doors to talk with you
* When you both went past the front doors, you both stood there before he leaned against the wall
* “So...you wanna explain why you dragged me out here?”
* “I got rid of the pictures and I broke up with the girls in my wallet.”
* From then on, you both promised to talk to each other about problems you might have in your relationship
* Whenever it gets cold out, John gives you his dark gray trench coat, which he wears over his denim jacket most of the time
* John doesn't like to show it, but he's a huge softie
* Whenever things get back at home, he goes over to your house and knocks/throws pebbles at your window
* You let him in, and he sits on your bed in silence, before tears start pouring down his face and he puts his elbows on his knees, and his hands cover his face
* You would never pressure him into telling you what happened until he was ready to tell you
* As you'd sit next to him, John would lean into your figure, so you'd hold him
* Your touch would calm him down lowkey
* He would never admit it though
* Laying together in your bed listening to his and yours favourite songs while he smoked
* You call him Johnny sometimes
* He pretends he's annoyed by the nickname but he loves it
* John isn't really about the whole marriage thing
* But he still gets you a ring which whatever money he has
* It might not be the most pricey thing in the world, but you're in love with it
* Going to the corner store and having to stop him from stealing small things like cigarettes, lighters, matches
* John still manages to take things that could benefit him, but also you as well
* He has a knife kink
* Honestly, sex with John can either be rough or passionate, showing that he does love you
* Speaking of the ‘L’ word, the first time it was spoken in your relationship was when it was raining outside
* You were both at the park when it started raining
* John wanted to go home, but you thought otherwise and pulled him with you and ran in the street with him
* John sort of understood what you were doing, and ran with you with a smile on his face and you were laughing
* For the first time in a long time, John felt free
* Free from the constraints of the world, and the abuse from his home life
* He stopped you from running and you looked at him, put of breath as he leaned down and kissed you in the middle of the street, in the pouring rain
* “I love you.”
* You smiled at him brightly as you leaned up to him, and brushed your lips against his before you said “I love you too.”
* You both kissed once more before John noticed a pair of headlights coming in your direction
* He pulled you by your arm to the sidewalk as the car drove by, and John held you by your waist, so your back was pressed against him
* You were laughing in his arms before he started laughing along with you
* You both laughed on the way back home, and John knew you were the one
let me in, baby ⊹ david mccall, fear female! reader. he has a deep obsession with you, manipulative, and protective. kissing. violence. pantie stealer. eating cunt.
david mccall who’s so sweet to your parents. so sweet, they believe he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
david mccall who says “no, ma’am” and “yes, sir” to your parents with the smallest smile that barely shows teeth.
david mccall who buys you a necklace with his initials on it for your birthday and some pretty flowers.
david mccall who lets you play any song in his car you want.
﹢ who’ll watch you smile while you sing in his passenger seat, with only obsession in his eyes.
david mccall who doesn’t kiss you on your lips in front of your parents trying to give them the illusion that you’re still their sweet little girl.
david mccall who walks you to and from class at the university. walks you to his car too.
david mccall who keeps a hand on you at all times. arm around your shoulder, around your waist, whatever it doesn’t matter to him.
david mccall who’s definitely the type to lead you through a busy crowd by hand.
david mccall who hears girls whisper about how hot he is all the time.
﹢ who ignores those same girls when they try to twist their hair and smile up at him for his number. him looking down at them with disgust.
david mccall who likes how naïve you are to his psychotic tendencies.
david mccall who loses sleep when you’re mad at him. shrugs off his friends, barely eats. does anything to make you forgive me— anything.
david mccall who doesn’t mind guy friends as long as they don’t interfere with your relationship with him or hug you or try to talk you out of the relationship with him.
david mccall who you brag about to your friends. bragging about how good he treats you and how well he fucks you.
david mccall who kisses you with hunger on the brain. both your tongues sticky with each other’s saliva.
david mccall who steals panties from you every time you have sex. doesn’t do anything with them after, just likes keeping them as souvenirs.
david mccall who eats your cunt until your crying.
﹢ tears running down your cheek, legs trying to close around his head but his strong arms are keeping them open. watching you cry and feel you squirm with hungry eyes.
david mccall who doesn’t mind killing the guy who’s been begging for your number for the last month.
david mccall who dreams about fucking you in the back of his car. not caring who hears or sees.
david mccall who tells you he loves you when he’s balls deep inside. hand on your face, looking into your eyes as he rolls his hips into yours to feel your warm cunt clench around him.
david mccall who can’t live without the taste of you on his tongue- he won’t.
the grid: confesses!
Day 30 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen
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Oscar Piastri: someone is dense…
Your dad was busy showing you the strategy plan, one of the many perks of being Zak Brown’s daughter. You’d been working in the paddock for over a year, working as one of Lando’s main mechanics, but your dad still liked to show you the plan for the day. He would’ve probably preferred you to be into the marketing / strategy side of F1 since there’s less of a chance of you getting run over in the pitlane if you’re not in the pitlane, but the heart wants what the heart wants and it wanted to be a mechanic, more specifically, a front jackman.
“Y/n!” Lando all but jumped on your back. “Osc wants to talk to you.”
Oscar Piastri. You had been flirting with him for months. A week ago you gave up and stopped, just being friendly with him instead, since he clearly wasn’t interested.
“Where is he?” you asked, shoving him off your back.
“Driver’s room,” he shrugged. “Where else would he be?”
Oscar was a very big fan of sleeping in his driver’s room before a race, of course he’d be in there.
You made your way to the McLaren motorhome and knocked on his door. He opened it, looking flushed and shirtless.
“Hi,” you smiled. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“I did- do. I do,” he nodded awkwardly. “Come in,” he opened the door enough for you to come in.
“Thank you,” you said, trying to not stare at him too hard. “What’s up?”
“Are you mad at me?” he asked immediately.
You were taken aback, shocked that Oscar would ever be that direct. “No, why?”
“You’ve been… weird this week.”
“Oh! That!” you chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve just stopped flirting with you.”
His face fell. “What?”
“I stopped flirting with you?” you answered again.
“W-why? When were you flirting with me?” he asked, looking increasingly stressed.
“Why what? Why was I flirting with you?” You questioned. “Because I have a crush on you. I’ve been flirting with you since my first day.”
He sighed and put his face in his hands.
“You haven’t exactly reciprocated so I stopped. I just kind of assumed that you weren’t interested, which is fine, by the way,” you explained. “We’re great friends, I’m happy with that.”
“I’m so fucking dense,” he cursed.
You chuckled. “What?”
“I obviously like you back,” he looked back up. “I thought you were just being nice.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m just as nice and touchy with Lando, of course,” you said sarcastically. “You really are dense.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t completely fucked this up yet, have I?”
You shook your head. “No,” you pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Not yet.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you,” he pressed his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You chuckled. What a dork.
Your dork.
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Lando Norris: years of pining…
He watched as you once again, came in from a date crying. You two had lived together since you’d finished college and moved to Monaco to start your new job (and be closer to Lando), and he watched as you tried and failed with the Monaco dating scene.
“I fucking hate men!” you cried as he held you in his arms. It had gone the same way it had all the other times, you’d come in crying, Lando would sit with you and order food, holding you and listening as you vented about this asshole guy. Honestly, it made him want to hunt them down and kill them with his bare hands, but he settled for being the kind best friend, biding his time until he could finally tell you.
“We suck,” he chuckled, agreeing.
“I just want a fucking normal, nice guy. Is that too much to ask for?” you groaned in frustration.
“Well, I’m right here,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. You were silent. He was silent. You both froze. The air in the room was much too thick.
“You mean that?” you asked, your eyes wide and staring into his. He nodded, too nervous to verbally respond.
“What guy wouldn’t? You’re perfect,” he finally whispered out. He felt how your heart beat sped up.
Then your lips were on his and he knew he was a goner.
You were perfect. And now, you were his.
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Lewis Hamilton: eavesdropping…
“I’m fucking in love with her, and she doesn’t even look my way,” Lewis groaned, laying back on the couch.
Never in a million years did George ever think that he’d be sitting in his hero’s drivers room with him, giving him relationship advice.
“She looks at you plenty,” he shrugged. “But she’s usually giving out to you.”
Lewis shot him an unimpressed look. “Thanks.”
George laughed. “Just ask her out!”
Lewis groaned again. Y/n Wolff. Toto’s princess. You were untouchable. You were a genius. You were beautiful, inside and out. “She hates me.”
“I don’t,” you said plainly.
Both of the men shot straight up, staring at you with wide eyes.
“I actually quite like you Lewis,” you added with a smile. “You should try asking me out sometime.”
George did everything in his power to not laugh, but he failed and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Lewis just nodded, much too embarrassed to speak.
“My dad wants you George,” you told him, actually fulfilling the reason you had come to their drivers rooms. “See you both on the grid.”
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George Russell: upfront
George stood awkwardly at your door. He was finally going to do it, he was going to ask you out.
“George!” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You’re back.”
George was your neighbour, a very kind neighbour. He was obsessed with you. You were so kind, so funny, so beautiful. He had befriended you out of pure friendliness, he wanted to be a good neighbour (and he was on the HOA (Home Owners Association) of the building). Those quick conversations in the hall had turned into a monthly dinner night, and small dinner dates whenever he was in Monaco.
“I am,” he smiled, hugging you back.
You led him in, the smell of your cooking already making him salivate, but he had a question to ask first.
“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. A real date,” he said confidently, though he didn’t feel like it.
Your face broke out into a bright smile. “I’d like that too.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“Good.”
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Alex Albon: awkward blind date…
You sat across from Tucker, the guy your friend was ‘so sure’ you’d be interested in, with a shocked expression. There was no way he actually said what he just said, right?
“Y’know what I mean?” he chuckled at his own ‘joke’.
“No. I don’t,” you gritted out. “I think I’m going to go now, please don’t call me.”
You got up to leave, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you.
“Where would you be going?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Get off her,” a British voice demanded. Behind you were now 3 men, the 3 men you had begged to not stalk your date, but now you were pretty happy they were there. Behind you stood Alex, George, and Fernando.
“And what are you going to do about it? She’s my girlfriend-”
“No I’m fucking not,” you seethed. “Get off me, prick,” you elbowed him in the face and got your arm free, speeding out of the restaurant and handing the waitress a large tip. You turned to the 3 men, scoffed and started walking off down the street.
Alex followed behind you as George and Fernando hung back.
“I know you’re mad-” he started.
“Yeah Alex! I’m fucking pissed! I ask you to leave me alone for fucking once. To trust me once. And you can’t even do that!” you shouted.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Y/n, you don’t understand-”
“Understand what?!” you shouted, finally stopping in the street. “Understand that you don’t trust me-?!”
“That I’m in love with you!” he shouted.
You froze. “If you’re joking-”
“Why the fuck would I joke about that?”
You nodded. “It would be a pretty shitty thing to joke about.”
“I’m not joking!”
“I know!” you chuckled. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
He blushed. “I…”
He gave up and kissed you again.
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Daniel Riccardo: drunk. He’s drunk.
You somehow got him into his own bed, but, as per usual, he started begging you to join him, calling you his ‘personal teddy bear’.
“Y/N!” he whined. “I’m hot!”
“Take off the covers,” you instructed, chuckling at his drunken state.
“You want me to take off my clothes?” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.
“Daniel,” you warned.
“Y/n,” he matched your tone. “Come on! We’d be so hot together! You’re gorgeous and smart and you look really good when you roll your eyes, and I always make you roll your eyes! It’s a win-win!”
You chuckled. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m in love!” he corrected. “Come on baby, give me a chance.”
You couldn’t even tell if he was joking anymore. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“And I can kiss you now,” he decided and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You couldn’t taste any alcohol on him. None at all.
“You liar!” you pulled away, laughing. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“I needed to gauge your reaction,” he laughed. “Seems to me you agree.”
You shook your head, laughing, but kissed him again all the same.
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Charles LeClerc: quite the charmer (not).
You rolled your eyes as Charles walked into the room. He was such a charmer. That’s what your mother called him anyway. Being the sister of Carlos Sainz, you grew up in the shadows which meant you were always a little different from your family. The main point being the fact that you drove on 2 wheels instead of 4, like everyone else. A MotoGP winner, that’s what you were. And as much as your parents pretended to like it, you know they would’ve preferred you pick a safer mode of racing, like horse racing or something boring.
“Y/n!” Charles cheered.
And then there was the Charles problem. Your parents were set on the idea of Charles LeClerc having a crush on you, and you having a crush on him. You thought he was nice, good looking enough, and kind, but you didn’t like like him, did you? No. Definitely not. And him like liking you back? Impossible.
“Charles!” your mother smiled. “It’s so good to see you!”
He exchanged pleasantries with her for a few moments, then finally turned his attention to you.
“Y/n, how are you?” he smiled.
“Good thanks, you?” you asked, your tone short.
“Good. I was wondering if we could talk,” he nervously fidgeted with his hands.
“We are talking,” you pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. “Somewhere private.”
“Ok?” you questioned, following him to his drivers room.
“I like you a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but Carlos will never ever let me ask you out. I just wanted to tell you just so you know why I am stand-off-ish. It is because of-”
He stopped talking because you had started kissing him. Maybe you did like him… just a little bit.
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Max Verstappen: upfront, awkward, unapologetic.
Y’know those people that just never learnt manners or social cues? Yeah, that was Max. Your friends had looked at you in horror when you brought him into the group, shocked that you’d ever start a friendship with someone as awkward and socially unintelligent as him. It’s not that Max wasn’t social intelligent, he just didn’t give a fuck. If one of your other guy-friends (the ones that all thought they had a chance with you) starts talking or (god-forbid) touching you? Max is in there, getting between you two as soon as humanly possible. He clings to you like a fucking leech, and makes sure the others know it.
When you told them he had asked you out, not one of the girls was surprised. Of course, you’d said yes, and of course, you were ecstatic.
At the next get-together, Brad (one of your asshole guy-friends) asked him how he did it.
“I just asked her,” he gritted out. “She said yes, I took her out and we’ve been together since.”
Brad shook his head, chuckling. “She’s not easy to pin down.”
“She is when she wants you,” he smirked, making eye contact with you out on the dance floor.
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the grid: wedding shenanigans
Day 14 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen
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Oscar Piastri: driving off into the sunset (literally)
The entire day was so special, it was a small service with just family and friends where you’d flown everyone out to their beach house. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and you were getting married. You looked stunning in your dress, and everyone cried as you came down the aisle, but no one more than Oscar. He looked at you with all the love and affection in the world and as you finally reached the top of the aisle, pressed a small kiss to your cheek whispering an ‘i love you’ much to the dismay of your officiant.
The day went on with lunch, some pictures, and finally the dancing, and as the sun set, you grabbed your suitcases and grabbed the keys to his pickup, driving off into the sunset for your honeymoon in the Outback, southern Australia, and then onto New Zealand.
He glanced over at you as he drove, the setting sun giving you a special glow as you looked at the ring on your finger. He slowly pulled over to the side of the road, wanting to gaze up at the stars that were just beginning to show. You two sat in the back of the pickup with a blanket over the top of you. You cuddled into his side and smiled.
“How does it feel, Mrs. Piastri?” he whispered, staring up at the stars.
You beamed. “It feels fucking amazing to be your wife,” you pressed a kiss to the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders. “How does it feel for you?”
He groaned, a bright smile on his face. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come true,” he almost cringed at himself, knowing how corny he sounds.
But you just nodded and smiled, perfectly contempt.
You two really were made for each other. Oscar stared up at the sky as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, before he started driving again after lying you down in the passenger seat, he thanked his lucky stars for giving him you.
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Lando Norris: sneaking off in the middle of the party
You felt the adrenaline rush through you as he led you down yet another long corridor. He was giggling the whole way, as were you, his hand held tightly around yours. The day had been wonderful, you’d gotten married in Sibton Park Estate, a beautiful country house with all the charm of a castle. You felt like a princess as you walked down the aisle, smiling brightly at Lando, who shed a tear or two, but mostly smiled and laughed out of nervousness. He had to stop his vows twice because he started laughing, and once because he started crying. Your vows made him bawl, having to give him a few minutes break before continuing. But god, had it been a tiring day. All day you were on your feet, away from your husband talking to guest after guest, seeing him on the dance floor for your first dance, then immediately being pulled away. It was jarring, even Max commented on it, saying. “You two are usually so all over each other, today I’ve barely seen you two interact outside of genuinely saying your vows!”
Safe to say you missed each other.
Somehow, he pushed a door open that brought you to a drawing room that overlooked the entire outdoor party and you smiled as you watched your friends and family let loose. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your neck.
“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he grinned like a schoolboy. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”
You chuckled. “I love you so much,” you sighed. “Today was perfect.”
He nodded. “So perfect. Best day of my life.”
“Not your first win?”
He pulled his ‘sassy face’, as you called it. “Fuck no. This is the best day of my life, hands down.”
You looked at him sceptically. “I wouldn’t be offended-” “My word, I got to marry the most caring, lovely, kind, smart, incredible, stunning, gorgeous, loyal, gentle, hilarious, most wonderful woman in the world and call her my wife. She’s wearing my ring on her finger, she’s kissing my lips, and she’s sleeping in my bed. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will die on that hill, alright?”
You chuckled. “Alright,” you turned around and kissed him, softer than you did when you’d been pronounced as married.
“I fucking adore you,” he whispered.
Perfect moment on a perfect day.
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Lewis Hamilton: anxiety before the ceremony
You paced back and forth in your dressing room, internally freaking out. You knew you loved Lewis, more than anything you loved Lewis. Though today was just proving… terrifying. Everyone’s eyes on you, everyone talking to you, everyone trying to be around you. Hellish experience, and it was only 1pm.
There was a knock at the door. “Baby?” It was Lewis’s voice, and everything felt ok again for a split second, then he started to try and open the door. You flung yourself against it with a thud and he chuckled. “Are we really believing in the superstitions?”
“Yes!” you stressed. “Why are you here?” “Because someone told me my soon-to-be wife is freaking out a little bit.”
You could hear the smile on his lips. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. "It's ok."
You let out a breath of relief. “Thank fuck,” you chuckled feeling the tension in your shoulders lessen. He poked his hand through the cracked door which you took and squeezed.
“Look baby, we’ve got this. Today is scary and nerve wracking, but it’s alright. I’ll be beside you all day, ok?”
You nodded. “Ok.”
Maybe you could do this. Lewis would be there, standing at the end of that aisle with his regular goofy smile and big heart. Lewis would be standing beside you all day. Lewis loved you.
“Ok,” you breathed out again.
“I’ll see you on the altar then?” he smiled.
“I’ll be the one wearing white,” you smiled.
All that anxiety was replaced by excitement.
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George Russell: quiet morning after the wedding
You laid in bed beside him, utterly spent from the day. It started at 9am and went until about 3am, then those 2 extra hours of ‘newly-wedded activities’ made you sleep in until about 12pm. You woke up with George’s arms around you, the sunlight coming in from the gorgeous day outside. The sun was shining in Greece, and you were extremely excited to have George to yourself for 3 whole weeks of good food, good wine, good sex, and him being your husband.
“Morning,” he groaned, burying his head further into his pillow. “I think Benjy got alcohol poisoning last night.”
“Morning sunshine,” you teased. “Also, I don’t think your brother drank that much last night, but I’ll shoot him a text anyway.”
“We should probably get up,” he huffed, you chuckled.
“We could,” you nodded, climbing on top of him and pulling his head away from the pillow. “Or, we could just stay here all day and only resurface for water and food?”
He smirked. “Insatiable much?”
“Sorry, I just have a really sexy husband,” you smirked, flashing your ring. He groaned and pulled you in for yet another kiss.
You didn’t leave the bed for a good while.
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Alex Albon: nothing goes right
You had planned the most beautiful wedding, you’d spent months refining everything, making sure it would be perfect, mostly because you knew it had to be, or else you’d be judged. Your parents would judge you, your family would judge you, the world would judge you.
But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t control the weather. You had planned the perfect beach wedding, flew everyone out, spent the last 3 days making sure everyone was comfortable, and when you woke up, you woke up to pissing rain and your caterers cancelling. Being the over-thinker you are, you already had another catering place on speed dial, and you sorted out any other problem that came your way. You moved the weeking to an indoor venue, you dealt with all of your guests' complaints, you listened to the moanings and bitchings of your judgemental mother, all while getting ready for your special day.
It pissed rain as Alex stood at the end of the aisle, soaking wet in the humid Thai rain, but smiling all the same. That’s when you realised that was all that mattered. You and Alex.
"You look beautiful," he whispered when you finally reached the end of the aisle.
You smiled. "Beautiful drenched?"
"Beautiful always."
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Daniel Riccardo: his vows You stood at the top of the altar, the months and months of planning came down to this moment. Daniel, his bright smile, standing there in front of you. Shit, he was beautiful.
You’d already said your vows, he smiled his way through them while you cried, and now it was his turn.
He looked down at the little book in his hands and took a long shaky breath. “I love you,” he smiled. “More than anything in this entire world, I love you. I love how deeply and truly you care about things, I love your humour, I love your smile, I love your ability to somehow rail me in,” the crowd laughed at that as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I love the way you always wave at kids passing by, I love the way you support and encourage the people around you, I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh,” he looked up to see you laughing, and somehow, his grin got wider. “Like you’re doing now. I love coming home to you, I love waking up with you beside me, I love my life, because you’re in it. You’ve stayed with me through some of my darkest times, and loved me the same as you do through my brightest. From our first date to our dying day, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you. I never thought I’d believe in Divine intervention, but something tells me that you were meant to find me in this lifetime, and all the ones before it, and after. You make me better, you challenge me in the best ways, you make me laugh and cry, you make me calm and comfortable. You make me fucking happy. I never knew I’d find someone as incredible and wonderful as you, but trust me when I say I’ll never let you go. You’re my person, baby, and you’re all I need.”
Did he have to be so perfect?
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Charles LeClerc: the engagement Charles sat in the restaurant, his mind far away from you in front of him. He had to somehow make you want to go down to the beach, somehow make you -
“Charles I know you’re breaking up with me tonight so just get it over with, alright?” You sighed. It had been months of him being distant and awkward. Months of him being absent even when he was right in front of you, months of him being secretive and guarded. You were done.
It sucked because you loved him, but he didn’t love you anymore, at least, that’s what you thought.
He looked at you horrified. He snapped out of his shock and stared at you. “What?”
“Please just get it over with Charles, I get it you don’t-“
“No! No! You don’t get ‘it’, please just hear me out?” He was clearly causing a scene, but he didn’t seem to care. If it was between not losing you and not making a scene, he was choosing to make a scene every single time.
“Charles!” You scolded. “Keep your voice down!”
He nodded. “Just… wait until after dinner, alright? Please?”
You scoffed. “You seriously care that little about my time? Charles, stop stringing me along! It’s been a year and a half of wasted time now.”
“Wasted?” He questioned.
“You don’t love me anymore, it’s fine! I get it. Just… let me leave with a piece of my dignity still intact, alright?”
“Please my love, just wait until after dinner,” he asked, checking his watch.
“Fuck you Charles,” you sighed, getting up to leave.
It was now or never.
“Marry me!” He exclaimed as the restaurant went quiet. You turned back to face him with a shocked expression. He was down on one knee with the most beautiful ring in a little red box in his hands.
“Charles…?”
“Please let me speak. I know I have been distant lately, but I just knew I would end up spoiling the surprise. You know how bad I am at lying, especially to you. I’m sorry, my love, please don’t walk out on us like this. I love you. More than anything, I love you. I want to be with you forever.”
You nodded silently, tears flowing as you stood there, shocked. You thought this was a break-up dinner, but really, it was the start of the rest of your lives.
Did you just do a reverse Elle Woods?
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Max Verstappen: family drama at the wedding
Of course, knowing Jos, you knew there would be drama at the wedding. It was inevitable. Your father hated Jos and your family hated him too. They couldn’t understand why Max’s father could be such a monster to such a sweet man. To be honest, you didn’t understand either. Max was the most caring and gentle man you’d ever known, and you honestly didn’t understand how he’d become the man he was with the absolute asshole of a father he had.
“I’m sorry,” Max whispered in your ear as you both changed for the ceremony. Jos had started a fight with your dad about walking you down the aisle that had set the whole ceremony back by about 40 minutes. Max was so embarrassed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You just smiled, ever the understanding saint, in his eyes. “Max, do you think I give a shit about how we get married?”
He nodded.
“I don’t. It could’ve been in a factory, a pig stye, a fucking metal concert, I don’t care. Tonight, when we go to bed and wake up tomorrow, we will wake up as husband and wife. That’s what I care about. I care that I’m your wife, and you’re my husband. I care about you.” He teared up. “You’re sure?”
“About you?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Max would always have you, you'd always have him. That was the important thing.
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the grid: No Nut November!
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Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Arthur LeClerc.
thank you to the person that requested this!!!
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Oscar Piastri: wouldn’t do it.
Even if every driver on the grid was offering 1,000€ each as a prize, he was not giving up fucking you for an entire month.
Even though he looks like a sweetie pie he would absolutely be a freak in the sheets and he was not about to give up the only way he actually gets his frustration out (aka fucking you).
Everyone kind of boos him for it but then half way through the month he gets to be smug while they’re all miserable and complaining, because he can fuck his girlfriend whenever he wants.
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Lando Norris: would try, but definitely fail.
He wouldn’t care about the prize, he’d just have such a ‘how hard can it be?’ attitude.
Newsflash: extremely.
You would not make it easy for him either; wearing the sluttiest clothes, basically giving him fuck me eyes all the time, enjoying it when you see him get hot and bothered.
He snaps on his birthday, and fucks you for hours straight. You can barely walk the next day.
He decides to own up and pay his part of the bet with no shame, he has a hot girlfriend and he likes fucking her, sue him!
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Lewis Hamilton: wouldn’t even try
He’s uninterested in the things most of the grid do in their spare time, and he knows they’re uninterested in him too. They don't need to know about his sex life, but what people can guess is that it is very much alive.
I mean… you two had a baby literally 8 months after your wedding, to the day.
The other 3 kids don't exactly help his case…
He’d say yes, just so he could be added to the group chat and he would tell you who is winning and losing.
He’d lose on the first day with no shame. Everyone knows he's just here for the public shaming of others.
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George Russell: would win
Not saying he’s not a freak in the sheets, but he would set up the entire thing (group chat, the money pool, etc.) and he cannot be seen lacking.
Even if it wasn’t his idea, he still needed to win.
You do make the entire month absolute torture though.
Matching sets, showing as much skin as possible, everything.
Even walking around the apartment naked.
But somehow, he doesn’t budge.
At the end of the month he does fuck you for ages, and you literally cant get out of bed, let alone follow him to a race. He tells the media you’re sick and all of the drivers have the dirtiest laughs as he explains. Despite every question, they keep their mouths shut.
George did announce that he won at the end, much to your chagrin.
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Alex Albon: he’d last a while
He would honestly be pretty good.
He kind of breaks the rules, he constantly gives you oral and jerking himself off, but it wasn’t specifically stated in the rules (apart from the name… but whatever)
He makes it like halfway through the month until a particularly bad race result.
He fucks you all night.
When you both get to the paddock in the morning, George pays him a visit to collect the money like the smug bastard he is.
He heard you two last night.
He was 4 doors down.
Oops.
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Franco Colapinto: he’s the one who accidentally tells the press.
We all know Franco is awful at keeping his mouth shut, and in an interview he somehow lets it slip that he needed to find George to give him money.
They ask him what for.
He says ‘the bet’ and explains that they’re doing NNN this year and that he lost.
It was worth it though, you two hadn’t seen each other in months (you were busy in uni, he was busy at races) and he just had to have you.
He made it like a quarter of the way into the month.
He didn't really care.
The drivers honestly just found it funny that he told the media.
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Logan Sargeant: would make it most of the way, but just fall short by like 4 days.
He had done so well, ignoring all of your sexual advances for the majority of the month…
Then he got drunk.
Drunk Logan and drunk you? Yeah, you’re fucking.
He couldn’t keep his hands off you, and he paid the price.
He paid up sheepishly the next day, George looked at him with the smuggest smile ever.
Logan didn’t even care. He fucked you twice as much as before.
He has to make up for lost time, right?
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Daniel Riccardo: he would lose immediately.
This man is a 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀
He would kind of do the same thing as Lewis, pay to just watch the rest of them loose.
He does last a little bit longer though (in their eyes).
He doesn’t pay up until the second week even though he’s been fucking you the entire time.
He has absolutely no shame about it either.
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Liam Lawson: he would almost win.
He's such a cutie. I think he’d somehow abstain for a while.
He’d get to around the 26th, and then give up.
The month was torture though.
You literally would beg him every night, and he would just have to say no.
You were impressed at how long he lasted.
But then he gave in after he scored points in mexico...
Yuki ratted him out to George, he was very embarrassed.
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Charles LeClerc: he would lose immediately.
Charles is an idiot.
He would lose the first day by accident, and then try to pretend that it doesn't count until George actually comes knocking on his drivers room door looking for the money.
He heard you, of course.
Charles reluctantly watches the rest of the month play out, bitter that his own forgetfulness took him out so early.
He vows to win next year.
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Carlos Sainz: wouldn’t do it.
He’s not giving up fucking you for a month. No way.
He also wouldn’t be interested in the sex lives of others enough to even pay into it like Lewis.
His sex life is his own, and as much as he loves healthy competition, this is a race he’s happy to lose.
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Max Verstappen: would be a huge bitch all month.
Dude is like a moody teenager when he’s not getting it.
Daniel persuades him to do it and he makes it a few days in.
Literally turns into the biggest moody bitch ever.
By the 8th day everyone is begging you to just fuck him so he’ll stop being such a cunt to them.
You do.
He pays up and spends the rest of the month fucking you.
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Paul Aron: he would almost win.
He would last pretty long. Like maybe more than half the month
Despite his playboy facade, he’s actually more into cuddles and shit like that.
But after a bad race…
Yeah, he pays up with zero shame.
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Arthur LeClerc: he would lose, in two ways.
Y’know how quickly Charles lost, yeah he’d be worse.
He wouldn’t forget, he’d just think that he can get away with fucking you all month but of course, that doesn’t happen.
George comes knocking after Charles tells him he can hear you two.
You are deeply embarrassed that your boyfriend's brother heard you two having sex, and you impose a ban for the rest of the month.
You say it’ll help you both be more aware of when and where you’re doing it, and how to not get caught by his brother again.
He curses out his brother the next time he sees him.
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A Christmas Prince (2017)- c.leclerc
₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
summary: When a young aspiring journalist is sent abroad to cover a a coronation, she hears rumours about the 'Prince of F1' and goes undercover to investigate them.
pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem! reader
9.8k words
disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.
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You jumped up from your desk as soon as you saw him, and trailed him through the office. “Excuse me, sorry- Ron?!”
He turned to you. “Not now.”
“This will just take a second, I just have some questions about your article? The fashion week piece that I’m editing?”
He groaned, clearly uninterested in giving you the time of day. “Go for it.”
Nevertheless, you continued on. How could someone who makes so many noticeable mistakes have a higher job than you? How could someone so self-centred and rude be in that position of power? “The main problem is that Max wanted 300 words, and you’ve written 600, and also the models and designers you quoted weren’t even at the event so…”
“Y/n,” he sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t have time for you right now, just go off and fix it? Yeah?” he smiled, that punchable, asshole smile, and walked off. You rolled your eyes.
Working as a journalist bitch was not your plan when you moved to New York, but alas, your rent does not magically pay itself. Categorically, you enjoyed your job. Decent pay, good co-workers (minus asshole Ron), and it was pretty cool to be in one of the high-rise offices of New York, especially around Christmas. But… the whole getting to write articles part wasn’t something you got to do. You were an editor now, not a journalist. It was… slightly infuriating to know that someone less qualified got paid more money to write shit that you always ended up rewriting for him, but as we mentioned before, bills don’t pay themselves.
“Let me guess, you’re going to completely rewrite the article and save his ass?” Damon, your best friend, asked.
You faked a smile. “It’s almost like that’s my job!”
He rolled his eyes. “Tell him to shove it,” he scoffed. “Any of us could write that better- with our eyes closed!”
You groaned as you sat down.
“How the fuck are you ever going to be taken seriously as a real journalist if you are such a good editor?” he added. “He’ll never promote you if you’re always going to stay as his bitch.”
The ding of your laptop ended the conversation
Max wants you in her office- NOW!
“Oh fuck,” you said under your breath.
“What?” Damon asked, looking over your shoulder. “Oh… good luck.”
You walked into her glass office, praying to something to make this as painless as possible. “If this is because of Ron’s article-”
“It’s not, sit down. I have something else for you,” she smiled. You followed her instructions and stared at her, unused to the kindness. “What do you know about the Royal Family of Monaco?”
“Monaco?” you wracked your brain. “The King died a few years ago, the new King just got married, and the other two are racecar drivers, right?”
“Exactly, anything about the second eldest Prince?” she mused.
You grimaced. “He’s more loyal to Ferrari than his girlfriends and he’s a royal disgrace?”
She grinned. “Yes! Exactly that! Obviously, Charles moved off from the royal duties a long time ago, but Lorenzo has decided to abdicate since his fiance has fallen ill, in Monaco there’s a rule that the throne can be uncrowned for one year and it turns out Lorenzo abdicated in December last year.”
“So Charles has to take the throne?” you asked. “But he’s a driver there’s no way he’d… what happens then?”
She smirked. “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out! His Royal Highness is due back at the Castle this weekend, but in case he also abdicates, I need someone to write on it! There’s a press conference on the 18th, and I want your boots on the ground!”
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why me?” you smiled, genuinely curious.
“You’re intelligent, talented, hungry for a story- also none of my regular writers are willing to give up their Christmas,” she admitted. You nodded, knowing you were a last resort.
“Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”
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“He’s gorgeous!” Damon fawned over the pictures of him.
You shrugged. “He’s such a douche, I cannot believe people still find him attractive after all the stuff he’s done.”
“Who wouldn't forgive a face and body like that?”
You looked at the photos. Yes, he was conventionally attractive, but his track record of scorned girlfriends, and the semi-awful fashion sense (who , over the age of 12, still wears tie dye jeans?) put you off. “He’s not my type.”
He stared at you. “He’s everyone’s type. Everyone is a Ferrari fan, and everyone is a Charles LeClerc fan.”
“I still don’t see it,” you shrugged.
“You should try to seduce him! Make him your husband and just excuse all the cheating so you can be royal and rich,” he suggested.
“I do not want that,” you scoffed. “Plus, I’m not on the market right now.”
He groaned. “You two broke up a whole year ago. Don’t let him yuck your yum 12 months on!”
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You walked into Rudy’s, your dad’s diner, you couldn’t but feel the weight of the conversation you were just about to have. You had spent Christmas as just the two of you every year since your mom had passed, you didn’t want to just leave him alone. The regulars raved about the pies as you stepped in from the cold, snowy air.
“The usual?” your dad asked, you nodded and smiled, waving to some of the regulars you knew. “How are you doing sweetie?”
“Good, great!” You smiled, plastering on your best ‘i’m fine!’ face.
“What happened?” he asked, concerned. You deflated.
“I have good news and bad news,” you explained.
“Bad news first,” he decided.
“I won’t be here on Christmas- but, It’s because I got my first story.”
He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “That’s amazing! Your first real story! This is your big break!”
“You don’t mind that I’ll miss Christmas?”
He shook his head. “This is your big break, take it. Don’t worry about me. You go over to wherever, and you make me proud.”
You smiled, pulling him into another hug, and thanked him.
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The flight was long and uncomfortable, thus the joys of economy, and the dickhead that stole your cab wasn’t much nicer either.
You and the rest of the press were all then bundled into cars and brought to the palace.
“First time?” The reporter beside you questioned. You nodded your head, slightly embarrassed about the fact that they could tell, but he just chuckled. “Word to the wise, pick a new career.”
The rest of the car was an eruption of laughter, small agreements, or a scoff. You chuckled along, but you couldn’t help but feel small. You were the only woman in your car, the only new reporter, and-
Woah. Holy shit.
The Monaco Palace.
Any and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as you stared in awe at the beautiful structure. The wide windows and beautiful pillars, all decorated perfectly for Christmas. Though it wasn’t snowing (like back home), you did appreciate the gesture of making it feel like Christmas. You were enchanted by the palace, it stood tall on the edge of the bay, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the gorgeous scenery.
You walked in behind the rest of the press, a nervous energy buzzing in the air. Prince Charles was an F1 favourite, a master of the sport, and now he had to give it all up for the crown. Everyone was more than excited to see if he’d actually show up, which seemed increasingly unlikely as the moments ticked away. He did every single piece of press Ferrari or the FIA asked him to do, and he seemed to enjoy the majority of them, but the second the palace asked him to do something, he was ‘too busy’. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You were exactly a patriot, but you thought that one should at least appreciate the fact that they were a part of their country, and the people deserved to hear from their Prince, not only through sports interviews. He’d been photoshopped into the palace's Christmas cards for the past 4 years, for god’s sake.
You pushed your opinion of him to the side and turned your attention to the palace. The tall white walls and arched ceilings, the beautiful and historic artwork hanging off the walls, god, you’d give anything to be allowed free reign in here with your camera. Your attention was then grabbed by the PR liaison, Penelope, standing at the panel desk looking increasingly nervous.
After another 30 minutes of waiting, the repress started getting restless. Lorenzo was never late. Hervé had never been late. Pascale was never late. Arthur was never late. Charles was the outlier. He slept with too many women, drank too much, and ‘disgraced the crown’, according to the Monegasque reporters beside you. You didn’t care much for all of the gossip pages he frequented, and only watched F1 on the occasion that your father wanted to watch it. But, it was clear that he thought that following his dreams of being a racecar driver were more important than his duties, and while you understood the push and pull of having a dream, there were also expectations to meet, and he didn’t meet them.
“We regret to inform you that this press conference has been cancelled-”
She was cut off by about 200 reporters shouting and groaning.
You politely raised your hand, and all eyes turned to you. “When can we expect the press conference to be rescheduled?” You asked and the room was alive again, this time, in agreement.
“As of right now, we won’t be rescheduling,” she offered a polite smile as everyone collectively groaned again.
“Well can we at least expect a date at which he’ll be crowned?”
“He will be crowned on Christmas Eve, at the annual Christmas Ball,” she smiled.
“Which is a private event, so what are we to tell your people? They can’t see him getting crowned as their next king? No media are allowed in, no cameras, phones are barely allowed. What will your people think?” you questioned, your voice dripping with condescension. The rest of the reporters cheered you on, no one had stood up against his behaviour before. No one.
She faltered, and then the room started being cleared by security, much to the chagrin of the rest of you. You were kicked out, a collection of grumbles and groans, knowing Christmas was ruined because of some stupid Prince and his childish antics.
You couldn’t go home empty handed. You’d never get a chance like this again, so breaking and entering into the Monaco Palace wasn’t that bad of a crime, right?
You came into a long hallway, the marble walls and floors taking your full attention, until you came across a picture. It was the royal family, a picture of the five of them, taken before Hervé passed. Charles was only 20, Arthur was only 16. Lorenzo was 29. And they lost their father. In the photo, they’re sitting at a dinner table, looking happy. It didn’t look posed, or professionally taken. It looked like it had been taken on an iphone. Charles was smiling bright, his arm around his little brother and his father. Lorenzo’s arm around Pascale as she held Arthur’s hand. Charles was truly the thing that dragged you in. His bright smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, laughing so hard he must’ve felt sick. The way everyone else’s eyes were on him. He was like a magnet. Not because of his good looks or lovably dorky personality, but because of something else. He was just… interesting.
“Can I help you?” a security guard asked, his voice booming and strong. You jumped.
“Gosh! Sorry, umm-yes-no-um-”
“American?” he asked, and you were sure you were busted. But then he smiled. “Follow me.”
You followed him through the halls until you were in front of a tall woman with brunette hair. You knew who she was, her name was Georgia, the palace coordinator. She was terrifying to stand in front of. You’d never felt so judged in your life.
“You’re the new tutor?” she questioned. You just nodded. “I thought you couldn’t come until January?”
“My last job finished up early,” you lied. A sinking pit in your stomach started growing, but you just swallowed it. You’d deal with it later.
“Oh,” she smiled. “Perfect, I’ll bring you to meet him,” she smiled.
What were you getting yourself into?
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Turns out Arthur LeClerc needed a tutor to help with his engineering course. Thank god you’d dated that engineer who wanted to mansplain every single part of a car to you, and you could get by the maths with a calculator. Arthur wasn’t exactly a fan of having someone younger than him tutor him, he felt stupid, you could tell. You did everything you could to reassure him that it truly was alright to need help, and he was starting to come around, but every time you two really started talking, Charles would appear. And yes, Charles had been that asshole who’d taken your cab at the airport. Even more of a reason to hate him.
“Arthur!” Charles called up as you finished explaining a sum, which he was finally getting, but of course, Charles had to distract him. “Sim work?” he offered, popping his head in the door. You frowned. He was clean-shaven, unlike the small goatee and mustache he’d been sporting before. Objectively, he was attractive either way, but you personally preferred the facial hair.
He frowned back at you. “What?”
Arthur attempted to get up to join his brother, but you held him down to his seat with a hand on his shoulder. He sighed.
“What?” you repeated. “Arthur is busy with lessons, your Royal Highness, you can come back in 2 hours, when he’s finished,” you smile politely, though your tone was less than warm.
“2 hours?” Arthur sighed, looking at you with pleading eyes.
“I’m not the one who failed their midterm,” you said, matter-of-factly. He nodded, agreeing.
“Why did you look at me like that?” Charles smirked, walking into the study.
“Like what?” you asked, engrossed in the work, trying to decipher Arthur’s handwriting.
“Like you didn’t like what you saw,” he mused.
You scoffed. “I was just surprised by the baby face, that’s all.”
He frowned, making Arthur laugh. “Baby face?”
“You look like a 12 year old boy without facial hair, it freaks me out,” you pointed out.
Charles left the room with whatever dignity he still had intact, and you and Arthur rather enjoyed the teasing.
“Will you be my guest tonight?” he turned to you, discarding his work.
“What’s tonight?” you asked.
“Some boring drinks and dinner thing with the whole of Charles’s team, and other nobility. It’s going to be such a chore to go without you, please come?”
You smiled. “I’d be honoured.”
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You kind of hated the whole ‘double agent’ thing. You were getting on really well with Arthur, Charles was enough to stomach (in small intervals), and Lorenzo had been too busy to really meet. Georgia had been on you about different things, but you always had to remember that a) your name was in fact not Y/n, but Martha. And b) You still had to be a reporter. You still had to break into these people’s privacy, and make it a story. You were pretty sure what you were doing was illegal in America, so you were just hoping it wasn’t a crime here. As the night went on you snapped pictures of Pascale, Lorenzo, some of the other nobility and some of the important F1 drivers (a friend was doing an expose on one of them for cheating so… yeah). You didn’t catch a glimpse of his Royal (pain-in-the-ass) Highness all night, that was, until he made an(uncharacteristically (not)) late arrival. You also left Arthur to go hang out with his girlfriend, who had surprised him this weekend by arriving a whole week early.
“How are you enjoying the party?” Arthur smiled, walking up behind you as you tried to take photos of the nobility as secretly as possible. You quickly hid your phone.
“Very much so, thank you for inviting me,” you smiled.
“Staring at Charles?” he questioned, noticing how you’d been following him around the room.
“Trying to find something to eat,” you lied. Again, that pit in your stomach grew every single day that you were at the palace. “Not a fan of the meat-jelly.”
He grimaced. “Me neither, follow me.”
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Possibly the best gingerbread cookies entered your mouth soon after. “Wow,” you nodded, and he smiled back. You stared at him. “Where’s Jade?”
“She’s off with her friends,” he answered, but you knew it was a guess.
“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You hated me three days ago,” you chuckled.
“You’re not like everyone here,” he shrugged. “You’re normal.”
You smiled. “I know I’m, normal, btu so are you-”
“A ‘normal’ 24 year old who has a palace and a crown, as well as an affinity for racing cars. I’m so normal.”
You laughed. “No one’s perfect.”
Then a tall man, who looked a little bit like Arthur, joined you.
“Cousin Arthur,” he smiled.
“Cousin Simon,” he sighed, less than impressed with having to see him.
Simon looked at you, slightly confused. “Was your mother feeling charitable, inviting the chambermaids again?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny. Arthur didn't laugh, he groaned.
“She’s my tutor, actually. And I invited her. Mrs. Martha Whelan, meet my cousin, Simon.”
You stood up and held your hand out to be shook, but he shied away. “Nice to meet you Simon.”
“You can address me as Lord Dukesburg,” he explained, taking great offence. Ah, this was Simon Dukesburg, the man who has been after the throne since Arhtur’s father died. He said some of the most out-of-touch shit about Lorenzo, saying he couldn’t be the King because he wasn’t Herve’s blood-related son.
“I find that nobility who require someone to use their title might be compensating for something,” Charles interjected, making you stifle a laugh, whereas Arthur laughed out loud.
“And what might I be compensating for?” he scoffed.
“I wonder,” Charles smirked. Then someone else interjected the conversation and pulled the both of them away from you and Arthur.
“Simon hates Charles,” Arthur explained. “He’s ahead of him in the succession, since it goes by age, not actual blood relation, he’s ahead of me.”
“So if Charles abdicates, Simon has the throne?” you questioned.
Arthur nodded. You looked up at the two men again, and found Charles already looking back at you. You offered a small smile, which was returned, then you turned back to Arthur.
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“I'm really not sure there’s any dirt here,” you sighed, explaining it for the millionth time to your boss.
She wasn’t having it. You ended the call feeling even worse than before. Honestly, you were one day away from just leaving the palace all together and admitting your crimes. It was eating you up inside, you could barely sleep, barely eat. It was all a little bit too much for you. You understood that reporters had to be cut-throat, but god, it was hard work pretending to be someone you weren't, especially to people as kind as the LeClerc’s. As you walked through the halls of the palace, unable to sleep, you heard some piano music. You followed the sound and found Prince Charles at his piano, incredibly talented. Sadly, it ended the second he noticed you, about 30 seconds of you being there.
“Sorry for interrupting, your Royal Highness,, I’ll head back-”
“Call me Charles,” he smiled.
Slightly blind-sided, you weren’t sure what to say. “That was beautiful,” you smiled.
“Thank you,” he smiled, getting up. “My father made me take lessons. It’s a great passion of mine.”
“I’ve heard your father was a great man,” you smiled.
“He was,” Charles agreed..
“Won’t be easy to replace him,” you mused, hoping he would give you something, anything worth writing the story over.
“I’m not trying to replace him,” he explained. “No one could.”
“Oh god! No, I didn’t mean it like that- just… there must be a lot of pressure on you, I didn’t mean it…” you trailed off and he smiled.
“Well, you’re under more pressure than you bargained for, right?” he smirked.
Shit. He knew. Somehow. He knew. You were bout to get arrested by the fucking Prince of Monaco. How embarrassing.
“My brother can really be a handful,” he chuckled.
You took a deep breath. He didn’t know. You were safe, for now at least. You chuckled. “He’s actually pretty great.”
“After our father died, he took it very hard,” he explained.
“I lost my mom, same age and everything,” you explained, a flat smile on your face.
He nodded. “So you know what it’s like then.”
You nodded. “Holidays are the worst.”
“I’m glad he has someone to talk to.”
“So, now that you’re back… is it for good? Arthur talks about you all the time. He misses you when you’re gone. Is all that talk about abdication just… rumors?” you questioned, feeling like the worst human being in the world for manipulating this family the way you were. They were good people. Maybe yes, they’re rich and commit tax fraud, but good people.
He sighed. “It’s very hard to know what to do.”
FUCK!
Great. So there is a story. Ideal. It’s not like if he’d just said, ‘yes, they’re all just rumors’, you could’ve gone home and never had to think about the awful things you’ve done here, but now you have to stay, to listen to him. Great.
“I heard you didn’t want to give your… lifestyle,” you asked. “Is that true?”
“What lifestyle is that?” he scoffed, slightly amused.
“I don’t know. The women, wine, and cars?”
“Is that what you think I am?” he chuckled.
“I don’t know who you are, Charles, but if your brother is any indication, I wouldn’t exactly believe everything I read. Good night.”
And with that you left the room, feeling like a terrible person, and he was more than intrigued by you.
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Christmas Eve rolled closer and closer, and every night seemed to be one of celebration. You decorated the tree with the family (aka you sat in the corner not eating or drinking because of the guilt, and watched over Arthur, making sure he was alright).
“To family and friends,” Pascale smiled.
“And new friends!” Arthur called, lifting your hand. You smiled at him, thankful that you had a friend there.
“What are your traditions Martha?” Charles asked, turning attention to you.
“Well, my father and I light a candle and we bake my mothers favourite cookies,” you explained, a smile on your face. “I know how it feels to… have someone missing during traditions,” you assured Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Just then, Lady Sophia appeared in the doorway. Lady Sophia, Charles’s childhood best friend and the leading lady of the greatest will-they-won’t-they story of all time. She wore a beautiful long flowing gown with a present in hand for Pascale. She elegantly dodged cousin Simon’s advances (you applauded her for that), and went straight to Pascale and Charles.
“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you,” she smiled, pulling her in for a hug.
“It’s lovely to see you too,” she smiled, then moved on to Charles. “Charles, good to see you.”
Charles greeted her with his best flirty smirk, and Arthur turned to you, fake gagging, which made you both laugh. All eyes turned to the two of you for a moment, before you quickly shut up, and the greetings continued. Lady Sophia was staying for Christmas, how wonderful. Maybe you could get an early access to their engagement story- god you felt sick with yourself.
You turned to Arthur engrossed in the small toy car he had in his hands, a gift from his father, he spoke about it as you listened, barely noticing Charles over both of your shoulders.
“I remember when you first got that,” he chuckled, ruffling Arthur’s hair. “You were so happy with it, you wanted to be just like dad.”
“Now you are,” you smiled, squeezing Arthur;’s hand. He’d be moving up to F1 next year, in a Haas seat (Esetban Ocon shit the bed, oops), and Arthur was the next best Ferrari junior driver. Arthur beamed back at you, and Charles gave himself a moment to study you.
You were so gentle, so smart, so kind, so… you. He was entranced by you. You were some sort of enigma. He didn’t want to sound full of himself, but women did throw themselves at him, it was a simple fact, and you didn’t. You weren’t interested in him at all, in fact. It was refreshing.
“Charles!” Lady Sophie called. “Will you put my ornament on the tree?”
He (begrudgingly) took his eyes off of you and joined her at the side of the tree. Funnily enough, her ornament was a heart.
“Be gentle with it,” she told him, and he sighed, knowing it wasn’t just the ornament she was talking about.He placed it on the ree and when he looked back at you, you were already engrossed in conversation with Arthur about something else and he thought it best not to pry. You barely liked him as is, he shouldn’t push his luck.
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The day you get bossed around by Arthur LeCerc may actually be the biggest joke of your life. He found out that you were a journalist, and he didn’t even care. He just… wanted a friend, and for you to write the truth about his brother. Which you were happy to oblige.
So, instead of going over aerodynamics, you baked Christmas cookies.
“What’s with Charles and Lady Sophia?” you questioned, shovelling some of the batter into your mouth. Arthur shrugged.
“She’s had a crush on him for ages, but he’s never liked her back,” he shrugged, eating some of the icing. “She’s always trying to get with him though.”
“Simon seems to like her,” you pointed out, shooing him away from the icing (he’d eaten half of it).
Arthur groaned. “Simon has wanted everything Charles has had since they were 3. He even tried go-karting. He was shit though,” he chuckled. “But y’know, everyone wants what we have.”
You cracked a smile. “You are the royal family of one of the most beautiful countries in Europe.”
Arthur sighed. “It was different though, before my dad died, it was-” he cut himself off, trying to to cry. You pulled him into a hug.
“He’s not gone Arthur, you’ll always remember him,” you smiled, he nodded against your neck. “Come on, we need to get these in the oven before I eat all of the batter.”
He laughed, joining you beside the oven.
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The next morning was the children’s fundraiser, where everyone was expected to be a guest. You, again, were Arthur’s, Jade having left a few days earlier to spend time with her family. One of those asshole reporters came up to you, but he got them away, and you knew that by tomorrow, people would already assume you were his new girlfriend, or something along those lines, so you made sure to tell him to talk about Jade in interviews. After the wonderful carol service, Pascale came out to the stage and addressed the public, announcing Charles’s speech.
When she called his name, he didn’t show.
Arthur sighed, grabbing your hand and running you to the Orphanage. There he was, playing with the children. He looked so… happy. He was telling them about every corner in the Monaco Grand Prix, and telling them what it felt like to win it. They all sat around him, listening intently, desperate to hear from him. You took out your phone and took a photo, seeing a tiny glimpse of that same 20 year old boy from the picture.
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“Charles, help me understand why you were unable to carry out your duty today?” Pascale asked, exasperated with her son.
“I thought my duty was to those children,” his words bit through the tension in the air.
“There is much more to being kind than simply compassion,” she sighed. “You need to be strong, a leader. You need to be someone that those people can look up to and say, ‘that’s my king, and he can make the hard decisions’. Not someone who tiptoes around his duties like a schoolboy. Arthur had to give your speech instead. Now every outlet thinks your abdicating and giving the throne to him right when he’s on the cusp of his dreams-”
“I have dreams!” he shouted. “I have a life, I have a dream-”
“And we gave you 8 years to make it happen. You have to grow up now Charles,” she commanded.
“Mother I-”
“Do you seriously think you’re the only one who wants to run away?” she questioned. “The only one who has dreams, and feelings, and a weariness about everything?”
“I’m-”
“This has been the hardest year of my life,” she choked up. “Lorenzo abdicating, you off in god-knows-where racing a car that can’t win, and Arthur trying his damndest to make his dreams come true, while I deal with it all. While I ‘hold down the fort’. You have a duty to your country, but you also have a duty to your family, Charles. I have complete faith in you, and then some. You will be a brave, and compassionate King. But you need to realise that sacrifice is a part of life. One we may have shielded you from, and I am sorry for that. But you need to make a sacrifice here. Royal life isn’t the prison you make it out to be. You can be happy, and you will be. But you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got, because you have so much Charles. You have your family, you’ll meet someone nice and then you’ll have your own. You don’t need to race cars to feel strong. You need to be yourself. The people of Monaco are looking for someone they know after a year of confusion and shock. You need to be the comforting voice. I know you can be.”
“I’m trying,” he whispered.
“I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Don’t try to be your father, be Charles. He’s just as wonderful.”
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Arthur wasn’t going to focus, it was 3 days till Christmas, and he was kind of like an over-excited child. You suggested an adventure, and that is how you ended up racing speed boats with Arthur and a few of his friends. You two won, of course, and he may or may not have accidentally shoved you overboard and made you hit your head. But you were probably fine. Probably. You two relaxed on the water for a while, enjoying the Monaco sun asn the sun began to set and all of his friends went home.
Then you felt something hit into the edge of your boat. Another speedboat. Driven by none other than Prince Charles.
“Race you?” he smirked at his brother, his eyes then landing on you. He stopped, almost doing a double take when he saw you in your swimsuit, his mouth opening slightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did and he rolled his eyes, hoping against hope that Charles and his master-manipulating ways would pass you by and go onto the next person.
“You’re on!” Arthur shouted back, reeving up the engine, and thus the great race of speedboats began. Sadly, once again, Arthur LeClerc is very much not coordinated, so he shoved you off the boat, again. Charles immediately slowed down, turning back to grab you, but he found you laughing. He reached a hand in, and pulled you up onto his boat, grabbing your waist when you almost slipped and fell. You were close, much too close. You could feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring into yours, the look of shock, but neither one of you was asking to stop. It was different, a good difference. He was right there, right in front of you, and you didn’t look at him with annoyance, or anger, or distance. One of those fleeting moments of the both of you truly just being yourselves. Well, you were Marha and he was the Prince of Monaco, soon to be King. He saw every freckle on your face, every small wrinkle line, every flutter of your eyelashes. He loved it. He loved being this close to you. He loved the way you were smiling at him, and once he’d started looking at your lips, he couldn’t stop.
Arthur threw a snorkel at the two of you, making you jump apart, you almost falling off the boat again (actually your fault that time), but you just fell into Arthur’s boat. “No fraternising with the enemy!”
And the race was back on.
Unbeknownst to you, Lady Sophia and Duke Arsehole (aka Cousin Simoin), were riding by on a perfectly sublime boat ride, and saw the three of you enjoying yourselves. You had joined Charles' side, winning against Arthur every time, and then you’d be swapped back, or Arthur would swap.
Lady Sophia didn’t like it one bit.
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When you got back to the palace, Lorenzo was standing at the top step of the stairs, his mother beside him.
“Where have you three been?” he demanded.
“Lorenzo, we were-” Charles began.
“Speedboat racing in the bay?” he finished.
The three of you stood there, silent and still, unsure of what to do next.
“I suggest next time that you ask permission, Ms. Whelan,” he addressed you, and you nodded quickly offering multiple apologies. “And next time, maybe include the other members of the family. It’s not like we've never raced in our lives,” he smiled, before walking off. You had a feeling they hadn’t seen Arthur this happy in a long time. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in you, that you had been the one to help him get himself back.
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Arthur was busy with his duties, so you were given the day off, the day before Christmas Eve. You needed to get to know Charles better, so you could right all the wrongs online about him. He was going for a bike ride, so you followed suit, clearly forgetting about the fact that you knew nothing about Monaco, and the limited cell-service was really helpful. Oh, and when you fell off your bike and cut the shit out of your knee, you really wondered whether it was you or Arthur who was clumsy.
“Are you alright?”a voice called out, a voice you couldn't quite place, until Charles was in front of you and taking a look at your knee. “This looks bad, come with me.”
He helped you up, and while Mont Agel was beautiful, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere, what was he going to do?
Bring you to his secret cabin, of course.
Literally, was this dude James Bond?
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You sat outside on his patio as the sun set. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him.
“So, now that you’re alright,” he smiled (he’d bandaged up your leg despite the thousands of times you assured him you were fine). “Why were you following me?”
You sighed. “I was curious about Monaco, and I didn’t want to bother you,” lie after lie after lie. You were continuously sick. Maybe that other reporter was right, maybe you did need a new career.
“You couldn’t bother me,” he assured you, an easy smile on his lips.
“So what is… this?” you asked, gesturing to the house. “James Bond hideout or?
He laughed. “No, nothing interesting like that. This is just my house,” he smiled.
“So you’ve lived in Monaco the entire time?” you asked.
“The Palace is a bit too much for me at times,” he explained. “So I come here.”
“That’s nice,” you smiled. “Why do you find the Palace too much?”
He sighed. “Everyone is always looking at me.”
“Everyone is away looking at you in F1 too, you have like, millions of fan-girls,” you giggled.
“That’s different,” he argued. “I’m a driver there, that’s talent and hard work, I was just… handed the throne.”
“You were born into it,” you corrected him. “And just because you came across something easily doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. I mean yes, it’s a lot of responsibility, but why wouldn’t you want to be King of Monaco?”
“Do we have to talk about this?” he sighed, getting up and pacing the patio.
“It might be good for you to talk it through,” you told him.
“I can’t even go for dinner with my friends without it being an international scandal!” he groaned.
“Like, when you went out with Sophia?” you mused.
“That was different, she sold a story to a tabloid, and the media had a field day,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair.
“The media is what’s holding you back?” you questioned, feeling your stomach twist.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Explain it then,” you smiled gently.
He looked at you for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, you could see that boy from the picture again. The magnetic, messy, smiley boy his parents had adored. The boy who worked so hard to prove himself. Then those walls went right back up and what replaced him was the man; older, wiser, and hurt. “Why bother? You probably think I’m just a spoiled rich kid anyway.”
You scoffed. “I never said that!” you argued, getting up and turning to him. “You know what you need to do, stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of you, or how they’re going to perceive you. You’re a good person, with good instincts, and despite being actual nobility, you have morals, good ones, the kind that makes you miss a speech because you’re helping children. The kind that makes you worry about your little brother so much that you come home when he asks you to. The kind that makes you kind. Stop trying to be your father Charles, just be, Charles.”
He sighed, standing beside you. “You make that sound so simple,” he scoffed.
“Why isn't it? You’re a smart, talented, caring person-”
“Except when I steal your taxi,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes. He paused for a moment, his eyes shining in the low light of the sun. “I want to show you something.”
You stared at him, grimacing slightly. “What is it?”
“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He led you through his house, up to a room filled with books.
“You read?”
“After my father died,” he explained. “We kept some of the overflow of his habit here. He also kept his journals here. I found a poem, it was dated just before he died, I think he was going to give it to my mother.”
Frost a sparkle in the fields,
Twixt the frozen minarets,
Winter’s harvest, wager yields,
Heavy burden’s, the years debts,
P[out from a seed, an acorn’s gift,
Henceforth the truth will flood,
Darkness such a secret bears,
A love far greater than blood.
“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, reading the poem. Charles’s eyes were on you. You were so close, just like on the bat, just like he wished for every single day since you’d come into his life. He leaned in and you didn’t back away. You didn’t run, or lean in either, you were still, your eyes trained on his lips.
Then your phone rang, and off you went to find it. Part of him wanted to grab you back and kiss you, but even he, in his delirious love-filled haze, knew the moment had passed, and he would just have to wait until the next one.
As you two were getting ready to go back to the palace, he left to go grab something from his room. His father’s desk took your attention, and you obliged yourself. Hidden in plain sight was a secret drawer with a stack of documents in it. As much as you hated yourself for it, you took the documents back to the palace with you.
Within those documents you found out a truth, a truth so great, you had no idea what to say. Charles and Arthur were adopted as children.
What the fuck were you going to do now?
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As you were walking through the halls with Arthur the next day, you saw Lady Sophia and Charles… kissing. Great, barf. Anyways. You had to finish your story, get something on the page, make this torment of a trip worth something. If you broke the story today, you could be out of there before Christmas, and their lives would be a lot easier. You thought about coming clean, but the thought of it actually made you vomit in your mouth. You were lost. You had no idea what to do.
So, you called your dad. What else were you supposed to do?
“Y/n!” he smiled, it was only a phone call but you could tell. “How are you?”
“Hey dad, remember how you said I have to take chances to win?” you asked.
“They are my words to live by,” he chuckled, understanding that something was going on. “Is everything alright?”
“What if that chance is going to really hurt people who don’t deserve it?” you questioned.
“I’m going to need more than that sweetheart,” he sighed.
“My story, if I release it, it might hurt someone who’s already been through a lot. I’m just…” you trailed off
“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about the world of publishing and reporting, but I do know that you have to trust your gut.”
You smiled. “Thanks dad.”
“I’m better than a fortune cookie, right?” he joked and you both chuckled. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”
“Bye dad-” as you hung up the phone, there was a knock on your door. You tentatively got up and opened the door, only to find Charles on the other side, dressed in a Ferrari branded suit, a small smile on his face.
“Hi, is there something I can do for you?” you asked, slightly awkward and unsure. You didn’t really want him to look in your room too much, considering the documents of his adoption were literally on your desk, but alas, what would be, would be.
“I thought we could go for a walk?” he offered. “I can actually show you around Monaco, now that I know you want a tour guide.”
Your smile faltered. “I don’t know,” you sighed. The media had been stirring everything up ever since the boat, you were the ‘mystery girl’ being passed around by the LeClerc’s, and it didn’t feel great.
He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I would like some company.”
“Sure, let me grab my coat,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
As you two walked through the streets of Monaco, he spoke freely about the beautiful buildings and people he knew so well, while you listened. You liked it, but it broke your heart slightly, to know that you had lied to the entire family for weeks now. But another part of you was grateful that you got to meet them, because you knew you had been changed for the better. It was also nice to see Charles be less… upset than when you first came. He smiled more, laughed more, and spent more time with Arthur, it was lovely to see.
He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at the pavement. “Are you alright?”
“Do you often take the help for a walk?” you questioned, your tone soft but the words bit at him anyway.
“What?” he questioned.
“Nothing, it’s stupid. Go back to your story Charles,” you sighed, walking on.
He grabbed your hand, turning you back to him. “Please talk to me. I feel like you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”
“What would Lady Sophia say if she saw us walking together?” you scoffed.
“Why would that matter?”
“I saw you two,” you said.
“Whatever you saw, trust me, there is nothing there,” he pleaded.
“It didn’t look like that to me,” you scoffed. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”
“She was just… taking her chance again, even after I explicitly told her not to.”
“Sure,” you nodded. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Charles.”
You were both silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to study your face. The way your eyebrows creased, the tightness of your lips, the determined stare forward. He smiled. You were so smart, and headstrong, and right all the time (which kind of drove him crazy), but he loved it all. He loved you.
“I hope you’ll come tomorrow night,” he admitted. You looked at him confused. “The Ball. My coronation.”
You couldn’t do it anymore. You had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living this lie, and neither could you. “Charles, I need to tell you something-”
But he kissed you. Of course, he fucking kissed you, because he’d been wanting to do it since the day you arrived at the palace. He was in love with you, if he hadn't made that obvious enough, and yes, he kissed you, because the fact that he hadn’t yet was driving him mad. He didn’t want Sophia, he didn’t want anyone else, he wanted you.
And it was everything he could’ve dreamed of. His arms circled your waist, pulling you close to him, while his lips explored your soft ones, the taste of cherry on them. You must use some sort of cherry lip balm, and it quickly became one of his favourite tastes. Your arms slowly crept up to wrap around his neck, and when he pulled back you just pulled him back in.
This was the real Charles. The one who loved people unabashedly and didn’t care what people thought. This was that 20 year old boy in the photo. This was the boy you had slowly fallen in love with, without even realising it.
And it was wonderful.
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Much to your chagrin, while you were off tonguing the next King of Monaco, Lady Sophia and Cousin Arsehole were busy looking through your things. Unluckily for you, they found something.
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Charles sat in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari, half willing himself to man-up, and the other half begging himself to turn around. He couldn't though, not when he was this close to finally visiting his father’s resting place for the first time in months.
He got up and out of the car, your voice in his head telling him to get over himself, with that soft, perfect, smile on your lips.
He walked up to the grave, determined to speak to his father once again.
“I’ll take the crown,” he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’ll never measure up to you, but I will take it. For you and for mom.”
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You stood in your room, wondering what the fuck one wears to a coronation.
Arthur stood in the doorway, smiling brightly. He frowned when he saw your dress.
“It’s this or pyjamas,” you dead-panned. He walked in, taking the dress out of your hands and sitting on your bed.
“How’s the story coming along?” he asked. “Nearly done?”
“Almost,” you huffed, laying beside him.
He sighed. “I’ll miss you when you go,” he admitted, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You almost forgot how much he’d been through, his sunny demeanour always seemed to make you forget his troubles. “It was nice to have a friend.”
You turned to him. “I’ll always be your friend,” you smiled. “And I’ll be cheering you on in Haas, and in everything else you do. I think you’re brilliant Arthur, seriously.”
He chuckled. “Thank you. I hope everything goes well for you back in New York.”
“I hope so too,” you teased, wiping a tear off his cheek.
“I got you something,” he smiled cheekily, handing over a small box.
“Arthur!” you scolded. “We said no gifts!”
“There was no way I was following that,” he chuckled. “Open it!”
You slowly opened the box, inside there was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful blue topaz on the end. “Oh my god Arthur, this is beautiful,” you whispered.
“To remind you of the boat day” he grinned. “So you will never forget me.”
You smiled, your eyes cloudy with unshed tears. “I could never forget you, Arthur.”
Then in walked Jade, his girlfriend, with an array of gowns on a rack.
“Oh no,” you whispered.
“Oh yes!” Arthur cheered.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
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You stood at the top of the steps, terrified of what anyone would say. Arthur had styled you (aka, Jade let him pick the dress) and while you thought you looked beautiful, you were slightly worried about what the nobility in the room would think. It had been fun though, an afternoon of being pampered and becoming friends with Jade was a lot more enjoyable than it was nerve-wracking. You slowly descended the steps, looking for Arthur, when Charles caught your eye. He looked beautiful, his hair perfectly styled, his suit perfect, his face perfect. He smiled up at you, excusing himself from his mother and brother to take your hand as you left the bottom step.
“You look beautiful,” he smiled, taking in your dress. IN all honesty, there wasn’t a word for how he thought you looked. Regularly, a look from you made his heart stop. This? A different level. He was enamoured. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to.
You felt your cheeks heat. “Thank you,” you smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I will see you in there, alright? I have to-”
“Do what you need to Charles,” you chuckled. “I’m not running away at midnight.”
He smiled. “I’m glad.”
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Despite the fact that it was a royal ball, it was quite entertaining. Different Duke’s and Duchess’s were dancing, letting loose, and getting pretty drunk, but you just sat with Arthur and Jade and laughed at them. The ballroom was magnificent, the tall ceilings and Christmas lights all around, and in the centre of the hall there was a 36 foot (yes, about the height of a telephone pole) Christmas tree, decorated perfectly. Even though you were miles and miles away from home, it was still nice to be celebrating with people you love.
As you were speaking to Jade, someone started speaking.
“Might I have the first dance, mon amour?” Charles asked, barely above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your waist.
You turned to him, your face dropping. “Seriously?”
“Well, as long as you promise not to tread on my feet, we should be alright,” he chuckled, leading you to the dance floor. You joined on, doing a simple waltz (you thanked your father mentally for making you take ballroom classes as a child), and it was very sweet. It was nice to be so open about being close to each other, no longer shying away from each other's affections. You liked having Charles so close. He liked having you in his arms.
Win-win.
“I wanted to thank you,” he said as you waltzed around the hall. “I wouldn’t be accepting the crown if it wasn’t for you, so thank you for telling me to grow up.”
You chuckled. “I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”
He shrugged. “I do not think so,” he smiled. “You make me feel comfortable, you’re the most genuine person I have met since… well probably since birth.”
Again, that nauseating feeling in your stomach urged you to run away and hide from him, even though your heart (as mad as it sounds) longed to never let him go. “I have to tell you something.”
He nodded. “You can talk to me about anything.”
As he spoke, the music stopped, and it was time. He would be crowned King.
“Tell me after,” he whispered, as all eyes went to him. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck.”
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“I dispute this claim!” Lady Sophia’s voice shocked the room and you. Charles was so close, so close to taking his rightful seat as the King, and of course, someone had to make it difficult.
“On what grounds?” the Archbishop asked.
“The grounds that he is in fact, not the rightful heir,” she smirked, smug as ever. “Prince Charles, and his brother Arthur, were in fact adopted by the late King Hervé and our Queen Pascale, therefore are not of the blood of the Royal family, as per this document.”
The certificate was taken from her, and shown to the Archbishop. “Where did you obtain this document?”
“I obtained it by uncovering a scheme by an American journalist, Ms. Martha Whelan, or should we call you Y/n Y/l/n?”
All eyes went to you as the room was full of gasps.
You knew you should've turned tail and ran, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed on when Arthur found out, and you knew you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the Prince of fucking Monaco. You were the dumbest person you’d ever met.
You didn’t dare look at Charles, knowing what his expression would be. You just looked down.
“Is that true, you are a journalist?” the Archbishop questioned.
You spoke confidently, though the regret was evident in your voice. “I am.”
The room was in upheaval. Everyone was angry, everyone was confused, and everyone needed an answer.
“And your Majesty, this certificate?”
The room went silent as Pascale began to speak. “It is legitimate.”
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You were running out as quickly as humanly possible, trailing just after Charles.
“Charles, please, just let me explain-!”
“Explain what?” he spat, turning to you.
“I’m sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen, and I understand that you never want to see me again. I just had to tell you I’m sorry, and the only reason I kept it up was for you and Arthur.”
“And you couldn’t have told me?!”
“Arthur made me promise I wouldn’t tell you,” you sniffled.
His face dropped. “He knew?”
You nodded, wiping away your tears. This wasn’t for you to be upset about. This was your mistake, and you couldn't fix it.
“Why wouldn’t he let you tell me? Did he know he was adopted?”
You shook your head. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell you. I just… he asked me not to.”
He stared at you for a moment, and it wasn’t those same, shining eyes that made your heart leap. It was the cold, dead, reserved eyes that made you want to run away and never come back, that stared back at you. “I’m glad you have your story. I suggest you stay out of our lives from now on.”
And with that he walked on.
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New York was colder than you remembered. You had decided to just go straight to your apartment, turn off your phone, and binge watch shitty reality tv shows until you could show your face in public again without wanting to sob every time you saw something that remotely reminded you of Charles and Monaco.
But something nagged at you. The acorn, the poem, ‘a love far greater than blood’. You didn’t understand it. So you spent about 12 hours working on deconstructing it, and you thought of something. Maybe it was your delusions after not sleeping for a day (or two), but maybe the acorn ornament could prove something, so you sent your findings over to Arthur, hoping they would make sense, and turned your phone back off, blocking all of their numbers and falling into a very needed sleep.
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The next few weeks were full of clearing out your office (you quit), looking for a new job, and starting off as an actual journalist, not just cleaning up some sleaze work. It was nice, peaceful. Writing articles about things that mattered to you, things that would help people, things that weren’t a certain King of Monaco.
Life was good. Getting over your heartbreak was hard, but you were starting to believe that you might actually be alright.
You sat in your dad’s diner, ready to ring in the New Year, when there was a snowball thrown on the glass, and when you looked outside, there he was.
Quickly, you ran outside. “What are you doing here?” you questioned.
He shrugged, “I never got to say goodbye, or thank you.”
“Please don’t thank me, I honestly should be apologising again and again for what I did, I am so sor-”
“You opened a door that should’ve been opened years ago. Arthur showed me what you’d done. Half because I couldn’t believe he could do it on his own, and half because… I thought it was going to be a message from you. You blocked me…”
“I didn’t want to risk bothering you anymore,” you sighed.
“You’d never bother me,” he smiled, pausing for a moment. “Arthur misses you. So do I.”
“I miss you both too,” you smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Y’know, a palace is a lonely place for a king, when he has no queen,” he admitted.
“It’s a good thing you’re an eligible bachelor then,” you chuckled. “Good night Charles, thank you for coming to see me-”
“I love you,” he confessed. “You made me a better man- you make me a better man. I don’t even want to spend time without you, do you understand that?” he asked, getting down on one knee and revealing an engagement ring.
You frowned, your eyes tearing up. “Charles, I am not nobility-”
“I don’t care,” he smiled.
“My entire life is in New York-”
“We can come back as much as you want.”
“What will the people think?” you sniffled, and he stood up, wrapping his arms around you.
“They’ll think you're a kind, caring, beautiful woman with a very intelligent mind, and brilliant ideas, who is loved very much by their King,” he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.
“We barely know each other Charles-”
“And yet I’ve never been more certain in my life. And I’m known to be indecisive-”
He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him.
Jesus Christ, you were going to be the Queen of Monaco, what a story that was.
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)
navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
Glory days- S. Vettel
Sebastian Vettel x wife! Reader
In which you ask your husband to fuck you like he did in your glory days
Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(plz use protection!), oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), dirty talk, ass slapping, degrading, cursing, porn with a small plot, prob many errors & bad grammar 
Part of my 1k celly:)
You blamed the internet for being the reason you were seeking out your husband. The damn tik tok you scrolled upon showing your husband being drowned in champagne by two of his closest friends and then him showing his tongue with his index finger up to the world.
You loved the way Sebastian treated you in the bedroom, there was no doubt about that.
But the video had you missing the RedBull days where he was more wild and would have you pinned against a wall with tears streaming down your face as he spat things at you in German, how he’d tease you for so long you were sobbing and begging for him, the quickies in his drivers room while the entirety of the RedBull team were looking for him.
Finally finding him sat at his desk in the office you snuck up behind him, running your hands down his chest to signal your presence.
“Hi meine Liebe” he smiled taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips.
“Hi” you greeted back.
Turning around in his chair the man smiled up at you before pulling you onto his lap.
“The girls go down easy?”
“By the second story they were both snoring” he laughed at the thought of his sweet twins fast asleep.
“I’m glad, they love having you put them to bed” you beamed snuggling deep into his chest.
“And I love doing it”
You two sat like that for a minute , his large hand running along your back while he replied to emails he’d been putting off.
“Hey Seb?” Your soft voice broke the comfortable silence.
“Yes darling?”
“Remember the night you won your third championship?” You smirked at the sound of the him taking a sharp breath.
“Of course I do, what about it?” He coughed slightly shifting underneath you.
“Remember how drenched we were in champagne? How you poured it down my chest before licking it up? How you made me come three times in three different ways?”
A cry tore from your throat when his hand slotted in your hair and pulled you from his neck.
“What are you trying to do here Schatz?” He grunted
“I just…We haven’t gone at it like that in a long time, and don’t get me wrong I still love the way you fuck me but I kinda miss us being messy and rough” you spoke looking up at him with his favorite doe eyes.
A growl, an actual growl broke from the mans throat before he smashed his lips against yours, the kiss was hot and sloppy, something familiar but yet forgotten.
His free hand reaching down to grip your hip, pulling you so close you could feel his chest moving in and out against your own.
“Seb” you panted pulling away from his lips.
“What?”
“I need you, please. I need you to fuck me so hard that I don’t remember my own name-like you used to.” You begged the blonde.
Without anymore pleading he slipped his hands under your thighs before standing and making his way down the hall.
“Seb you passed the bedroom” you spoke with confusion.
“I know”
Confusion clouded your mind for a moment until you realized he was opening the door to one of your guest rooms.
“Further from the girls, don’t wanna risk your pathetic noises waking them” he spat, his hands hastily pulling your leggings down.
Slotting himself between your thighs he began trailing soft kisses against the insides of your thighs, lips brushing right past your wet cotton panties.
“Seb, please” you begged.
“Hush Kleiner Hase” he smirked at the yearning whimper that broke from your throat at the name.
His torturing kisses continued along your skin, nipping and sucking along the skin coaxing whines and whimpers from you.
“Sebastian baby-please, I need you” you begged, hands running through his soft and overgrown curls.
“Your the one that asked for this baby, wanted me to take care of like I used to.” He tutted and as much as you wanted to argue he was right.
Sebastian hardly made you wait anymore, usually due to the fact that kids made it hard for you two to take your time.
Finally running his fingers over the elastic of your panties Sebastian hooked a finger in the material and pulled them down your legs.
“So wet for me” breathed, mouth watering at the sight of your dripping folds.
“Oh god seb please” you whined.
Your body was aching for him at this point, wanting nothing more than his body pressed against yours while he fucked you silly and made you come over and over again.
A groan left your husbands throat as he left kisses along your folds, his tongue teasingly running through them. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth finally coming into contact with your cunt.
Your fingers gather his hair in a vice grip, pulling on the locks so hard it had Sebastian whimpering.
“Feels so good Seb” you heaved, body shivering as he ate you like a starved man.
His tongue ran along your folds, moving in multiple different patterns while his nose bumped and prodded against your clit.
Sebastian’s hands pinned your hips down as you attempted to grind against his face, a sharp slap against your skin letting you know to knock it off.
Your thighs shook as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten by the seconds, your moans getting louder and your tugs on Sebastian’s hair getting harder.
“M’ gonna-fuck, gonna cum seb” you cried out.
“Go on pretty girl, cum for me. Want you to cum all over my face.” He encouraged as he slipped two fingers inside you to help guide you to your high.
You arched your back, breath quivering as you came, thighs closing around Sebastian’s head drawing the man even closer to your cunt then before.
Broken sobs escaped your throat as you came down from your high, Sebastian left wet kisses along the skin of your lower stomach while his fingers continued to work you open.
“So pretty Schatz” he cooed in your ear before your body was flipped over and you were placed on your knees with your face shoved into the comforter.
You could feel him shuffling before the warm head of his cock was placed against your folds, teasingly running through the cum and spit covered skin.
Sebastian shuddered as he slipped inside, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises in their place tomorrow.
“My fucking god..” he growled at the way your walls hugged him.
He could hear your muffled cries as he kept up a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping mixing in with your shared moans filled the room.
Your breath hitched with every thrust, you could feel every ridge and vain as he split you open. His deeps grunts and growls making you clench even tighter around him.
“Ah-fuck. Seb it feels so good” you whimpered as he placed a foot onto the soft mattress to allow him a deeper angle over your body.
“Yeah? Like when I fuck you like a little slut?” He spat, leaning his body over your back to whisper in your ear.
The man got nothing but muffled cries in return as your body squirmed underneath his, your toes curling in pleasure as he fucked you deep.
“Clenching me so tight” he panted into your neck.
Your breath hitched at every thrust, the heat in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter by the second.
“Se-oh!-m’ gonna cum” you stuttered.
He smirked at the way your body shook due to his movements, how you cried as his hand came down hard against your plump ass.
“Go on Meine Liebe, come all over my cock like a good whore” he taunted as his thrusts picked up and soon his hand was placed on the back of your head; shoving your face into the mattress.
Your mouth opened in a silent scream, body trembling, and toes curling as your climax washed over you. Your entire body shook as Sebastian kept going, his thrusts unforgiving as he chased a high of his own.
Grunts filled the room as Sebastian felt the familiar shiver run down his spine and he came deep inside you, your cunt milking him dry.
He smirked at the sight of your fucked out face when he turned your body over, tear tracks covered your red cheeks as you panted for air.
“So pretty Liebling” he shushed as he ran his thumb along your warm cheek.
“Tha-that was amazing” you laughed as you pulled his body down to press against yours.
“Yeah?” He smirked as he placed kisses along your neck.
“Mhm”
“I’m glad because I’m far from being done with you”
-
LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL
Author’s note; fuck off Amy.
Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader
Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.
Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.
F1 Master List
Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.
It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.
"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"
She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.
She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.
Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.
Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.
Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.
Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.
Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.
It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.
Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.
"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.
Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.
"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.
"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"
"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.
The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.
"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.
It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"
She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"
Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat, placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.
He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"
He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.
Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.
She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.
Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.
"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.
He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.
"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.
"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"
"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.
"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"
Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"
Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.
"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"
"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"
Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"
She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.
Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"
Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.
"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.
His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.
"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.
"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.
"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.
Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?
"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.
Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"
Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.
He couldn't wait to get home.
paddock bunny!
... or when you *teasingly* ask the drivers to sign on a pretty canvas. (dilfs version // slc verse)
sebastian
sebastian's grin could be pictured from a mile away as he uncaps the pen, "just my signature?" he asks, his tone playful and suggestive.
"i could write you an essay. i feel quite inspired right now..." the ferrari driver says in a cheeky quip, while you giggled at him.
"just the name, superstar." you reply, tilting your head at him amusedly. sebastian smilingly writes his name down, his strokes were slow and deliberate. sebasti.. he was gonna let the pen do all the working while his eyes drifted from your soft skin to..
"so, are you around here often?"
"why? you wanna feel me up more?"
sebastian whips his head so fast you heard a miniscule pop from it. you reel back from his proximity, overwhelmed by his closeness and his— oh, he smelled so good. you've always loved armani on him.
"say that again, hase." he utters in a hoarse voice.
"tu m'as fait peur, sebastian. you act like you haven't seen me naked." you yelp as he quickly wraps his arms around you, smothering you in kisses all over your chest and neck. "seb!" you garbled as you threw your head back laughing, feeling ticklish from his overgrown stubble.
"sometimes it's even too vivid, darling..." the german grins at you suggestively, as he expertly takes the ferrari jacket away from you. "but everytime, it's not enough until i get my hands on the real thing."
fernando
"anything for my favorite girl..." fernando hums with a cheeky smile, his fingers playing with one of the buttons of your blouse, "liked the race so far, hermosa?" he asks you casually, his gaze flicking back and forth to your chest and to your face— watching your expression closely.
"hmmm. thought the podium finish deserved some fanfare." you say lightly, to which he chuckles. "you having fun there?" you pat his hand that casually rested a touch away from your chest.
"very." he answers shamelessly, licking his lips as if he were a kid on a candy shop.
jenson
"jenson..." you call out to him, amused at seeing him so focused.
"shush, love." jenson replies absentmindedly, bending his pen to write his full number. "i'm writing a masterpiece, on a masterpiece."
"hey picasso, those look like numbers to me!" you hear the yell of his engineer who casually walked past his driver room, followed by cheers and laughter of his team, who, despite being unaware of what was happening inside; were already familiar with the usual shennanigans jenson was usually up to.
"what do you know about art, you uncultured swine!" jenson shouts back playfully, kicking the door close while you'd threw your head back in laughter.
"now where were we..." he tilts his head to look at his masterpiece, smirking. "let me write on—" you smacked his head upside down.
best dress * fem!driver
when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver
warnings: none
notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
-> the aftermath
she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.
she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.
“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”
she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.
“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”
lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”
“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”
“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”
“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”
oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”
“exploring the city!”
“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”
“you’re exploring the city in heels?”
she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”
“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”
“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”
lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”
“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”
oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”
“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”
“oh, i s-“
“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”
“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.
“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“
“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”
“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.
“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”
max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”
oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?
“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”
“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”
though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”
but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”
“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”
“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”
“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”
lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.
lando slouches. “why not?”
“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”
george tilts his head. “what?”
oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”
“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”
“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.
after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.
“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”
“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.
the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.
george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”
“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”
once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.
“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”
“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”
george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”
oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”
“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”
they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.
they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”
“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”
“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”
max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.
“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.
to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”
george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”
“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”
“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”
“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”
“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.
“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”
“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”
“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”
the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”
“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”
max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”
“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”
oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”
max shrugs. “i guess.”
sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”
“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”
logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”
“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”
she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”
max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”
“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”
“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”
sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”
“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”
“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”
“i don’t believe you!”
“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.
max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”
“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”
“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”
oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”
“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”
“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”
“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”
she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”
sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”
“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”
her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”
oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”
“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.
“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife
the orange peel theory * fem!driver
how many men in her life would stop to peel an orange for her if she asks randomly?
pairings: f1 grid x fem!driver
warnings: -
notes: juSt a random idea i got when i dreadfully peeled oranges for myself ugh i hate being single sometimes
guys this is the last vr update today i swear i’ve got too much times on my hands actually
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
-> max verstappen, #1
would be in the middle of an interview after quali when she comes up to him with a mandarin orange in hand
max stops mid sentence to look down at her in confusion but will take the orange into his hands as she asks him to peel it for her politely
he would cover the mic and whisper “can this wait? i’m in the middle of something” and she shows him her hands, perfectly manicured white nails with a frown and says “i’ll stain my nails”
and he just does it, peeling the orange as he carries on with the interview after she walks away without him knowing
when he finishes, he turns to give it to her but she’s no longer there and ends up eating the orange during his interview lol
-> logan sargeant, #2
he’d be sitting in his garage minding his own business when she comes and sits next to him with a bag of mandarin oranges in hand
he doesn’t even need to be told
he immediately reaches out and starts peeling the oranges for her, even tearing away the white strands because he knows she hates those
totally nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a crush on her forever
everything to do with the fact that they grew up together and he’s too lazy to fight
-> daniel ricciardo, #3
he’s literally just walked into the paddocks for race day
he feels all cool with all the cameras
suddenly she runs over to him with an orange in her hands and a hopeful smile
“peel this for me please?”
he does it without question
he walks the paddocks with her while peeling her orange and even sparks up conversation with her
-> lando norris, #4
literally walks away when he sees her approaching him with an orange
she’s been doing it all weekend and he refuses to be a victim
also because he’s not that fond of peeling oranges
or oranges, for that matter
she tries chasing after him but when she finally catches up, he simply ignores the request to peel the orange for her
-> pierre gasly, #10
he’ll be literally walking over to the grid for the driver’s parade
looking pretty cool in his cool fits
an orange is presented to him without question
he grins at her and thanks her for the orange
walks away and eats the orange himself
-> sergio perez, #11
would also be in the middle of an interview when she comes up with an orange
would peel it because he’s a mega dad and he’s really taken a liking to her
excuses himself from the interview to do it for her real quick
would take one piece of the orange for himself
claims it’s the taxes for making him do it instead of doing it herself
-> fernando alonso, #14
takes the orange without her saying anything
he’s always seen with seb on race weekends and is very used to her antics
literally gives her the orange peel and one piece of orange
eats the orange without her saying anything
she’s in damn near tears because she really expected fernando to peel it for her without question
-> charles lerclerc, #16
is sad that she didn’t bring him an orange too
still peels it for her though
even though he was in the middle of some paddock game with carlos
asks for a piece and because she loves him and her crush is still very much present, she simply gives him the whole orange
-> lance stroll, #18
he’d have been coming out of his racing home minding his own business
they don’t interact often because she scares him
is almost scared to say no to the orange peeling and actually says no
mutters “i always knew you hated me” as she walks away
which then makes him chase her to peel the orange for her and apologise profusely
because lance and her literally never talk and it took up all her courage to approach him with this orange, she gives him half of the orange
-> kevin magnussen, #20
asks her if she's got an extra orange for his baby girl
she literally came prepared and gives one to cute baby laura
so now kevin has to peel two oranges for two babies
outrageous, if u ask him
-> nyck de vries, #21
has unfortunately departed by the time she decided to be a menace about the orange peel theory
she thinks about him often though
they're texting buddies actually
-> yuki tsunoda, #22
literally came prepared
he's got a packet of candy he bought when he flew back to japan for a visit
she gives him the whole orange
she literally peels the orange for him in exchange for the candy
-> alex albon, #23
was literally walking to the grid for the opening ceremony of the race weekend
says no immediately
but he does change his mind and asks if he can have half if he peels it for her
peels it and takes more than half of the share
-> zhou guanyu, #24
is delighted to even see her because they don't come across one another often
is kinda touched that she asked him to peel an orange but then is disappointed to find out that he's not the first victim and that this is all a tiktok trend for her
peels it anyway
asks her to bring an extra orange if there's a next time as payment
-> niko hulkenberg, #27
she literally cannot find him
doesn't get to participate in the trend
she only saw him once that weekend and it was at the opening ceremony and she only had 1 orange for alex to peel
and on the grid in his race car
-> esteban ocon, #31
absolutely ADORES her
peels it without question
peeks around her shoulder to ask if she's brought another one for him
she says yes and that he's the only one who gets one for himself because she loves him back
-> lewis hamilton, #44
this psycho literally approaches lewis when he's on an interview panel
but that's because he asked her to do it at that time so he has a excuse to escape the panel
he's just so tired of the panel interviews
giggling with her like demons as he peels the orange
-> carlos sainz, #55
peels it for her without question
the only one to ask her why she's got so many oranges to eat and hand out
also the only one to ask her if oranges have been the only thing she's eaten all weekend
inhumanly impossible to eat this many oranges in one weekend perhaps
-> george russell, #63
is literally tearing up because she came to him to ask to peel the orange
he heard from alex what she's been doing
he's been waiting all weekend for her and was sad that it seemed like she had no intentions on letting him participate in her tiktok
she feels so bad for him that she joins him in peeling an orange as well
-> valtteri bottas, #77
is confused because he's just minding his own business using his phone during the driver's briefing
peels the orange for her anyway
asks if oranges are her favourite fruit
suggests eating something less acidic to avoid a tummyache
-> oscar piastri, #81
if anyone's tired of her being a menace with all these oranges, it's going to be him
but because he knows she'll pick a fight if he says no
he will peel the orange reluctantly
takes a picture with the orange because it's the same shade as the mclaren shirt he is wearing
— bonus
-> liam lawson, #30
asks her to fuck off
only ask him to peel an orange when she's lost all the ability to peel one for herself
asks her if he can have one from her orange stash
she says no in tears because he cussed at her
shrugs and walks away
-> sebastian vettel, #5
this clinically insane woman has got this 4 time world champion peeling oranges on the pit wall during qualifying
has him throw her a peeled orange in between laps during qualifying
eats it in the car for a racing 'buff' before she drives out for a lap
she's got too many oranges so he helps her eat some of them
eating oranges = beating mclaren = beating oscar because they're all the same colour and have a correlation obviously
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @sadg3
Eyes Only For You
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: a little bit of angst, fluff
“Hey, baby” You say smiling walking into the kitchen greeting your boyfriend who you missed so much after a whole day filled with meetings.
Lando was free for another week before returning to the races, and you really had a lot of work to do the whole week. You had a lot of meetings and events to attend so you’ve been out of the house and even out of the town most of the time.
You hated it when Lando was free and you had a lot of work to do and couldn't take full advantage of his rare free time. And so when such days happen, you always rush home at the end of the day, eager to see him and cuddle him and just rest in his arms.
That's how you thought it would be this evening too, but as soon as you entered the room and saw that Lando didn't even turn to you when you greeted him, you immediately felt that something was up.
“Hi” He says apathetically looking for something in the fridge and not paying attention to the fact that you finally came home after being away all day.
He was angry. You read it right away. You could tell by his tone, but you decided to ignore it at first.
You walked up to him from the other side of the kitchen island and hugged him from behind while he was still standing in front of the fridge looking into it.
“Where is Mila?” You ask.
Oh, and you were also babysitting Mila for the night. His brother and sister in law and Mila were in town so you offered to watch her tonight so they could have some time to themselves and go on a date.
“She fell asleep in the living room a little while ago.” He said not engaging in further conversation.
“I missed you today” You say leaving a small kiss against his bare back.
“Yeah? How was your day?” He asks taking the salad dressing from the fridge and walking up to the kitchen island where his chicken salad was.
“It was..hectic.” You say looking at him. “Been waiting to come home to you.” You say softly trying to get anything out of him, but failing when he continues to be silent and ignore you focusing on making his salad.
“Lan? Is everything okay?” You finally ask.
“Well,” He sighs and somewhat aggressively throws the soiled fork into the kitchen sink making you wince slightly. “It was up until two hours ago when some pictures of you from the Boss Show in Milan emerged.”
“What pictures?” You ask confused, immediately going over the events of that day in Milan in your head.
He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his shorts, unlocks it and throws it in front of you on the surface of the kitchen island. “Care to explain?”
You stare at the picture on his cell phone of you and Michele Morrone and you immediately remember the situation you had with him that day that you were not even aware that someone had taken a picture of it and published it on the Internet.
In the picture, you were leaving the fashion show and he was grabbing your elbow. You met him for the first time that day and you talked about nothing more than the looks from the show, but it was quite obvious to you that he was indirectly hitting on you here and there. You grabbed his attention and he didn't spare you a few compliments, but at no point did you give him reason to think you were interested in him.
When you were leaving the fashion show, you didn't even know that he came out after you. He grabbed your elbow before you walked over to the waiting car and asked if he could have your number to which you replied that you have a boyfriend and that you’re in a happy relationship.
“Oh my God..” You sigh before explaining what exactly happened in the picture.
“Did you give him your number?” Lando asks even though you had said you didn’t.
“Of course I didn’t, Lando?” You say a bit offended that he even had to ask such a thing.
“Why didn't you tell me right away instead of me having to look at the pictures of my girlfriend with that fucking- porn actor?”
“I don’t ever tell you when things like that happen because I don’t care about that stuff and because I’m not interested in anyone but you!”
“What the fuck? What do you mean ‘when things like that happen’? Do guys hit on you a lot?”
“Lando..please” You were already getting exhausted from this kind of conversation. You considered it so unimportant that you almost forgot it happened, but you could understand why Lando was upset about it.
“No, tell me, y/n!”
“Yes, guys do hit on me, but I never ever respond to any of that in any kind of way whatsoever!”
“Oh, that’s really nice. Very comforting.” He says sarcastically.
“What? Am I so unattractive that it comes as such a surprise to you?”
“No, fuck..of course not. I just-“ He sighs running his hands through his hair. “I just thought everyone knew you were mine..”
“Lando, as long as I know that I’m yours, it doesn’t matter what other guys think or try to do. And I can’t believe that you would even think that I was doing something behind your back. I can’t believe you don’t trust me, Lando?” It hurt you because you never gave him a reason to doubt you. Your relationship was pure and full of love for each other. Topics like this have never even been in the conversation.
He deeply sighs again and steps closer to you cupping your face making you look up at him. “It’s not you that I don’t trust, it’s others. I don’t want someone to steal you from me. I’m sorry”
“That could never happen.” You say looking up at him.
He pulls your face closer to his wanting to kiss you, but you move your head to the left avoiding the kiss.
“I’m going to change. I’m tired.” You move away from him and go to your shared bedroom.
Your mood was no longer up to par and you weren't as happy and excited as you were half an hour ago and you blamed Lando for that. On the one hand, you understood him, but on the other hand, you couldn't believe that he doubted you even for a slight moment.
It especially hurt you because you knew that girls are hitting on him every chance they get and that they obsess over him all the time not caring in the slightest that he has a girlfriend and yet you never showed him it bothered you because you know he only has eyes for you.
You took a quick shower and changed into more comfortable clothes. Although you were still sad about the things that went down with Lando, you wanted to see Mila and hang out with her in case she woke up because it was only 7 p.m. so you headed to the living room shortly after taking the shower.
You knew she was awake when you approached the living room and heard Lando and her chatting about the Minions that Lando had turned on on the TV. It was more of Lando's favorite cartoon than Mila’s honestly. You walked over closer and saw Lando
Lando was lying on the couch and Mila was lying next to him with her head resting on his chest while his arm was wrapped around her. The sight melted your heart. You loved their relationship. You loved seeing him spend time with her and bond and you loved the way she loved him.
“Auntie!!” Mila exclaimed when she saw you.
“Hey, cutie” You smiled at her sitting on the couch next to Lando and giving her a hug. “Are you guys watching the Minions?”
“Yess!!” She said excitedly.
“Wanna join us?” Lando asked, his eyes pleading for you to say yes.
You nodded your head bringing a huge smile to Lando's face. He opened his free arm for you so you can cuddle up to him. When you laid your head against his chest as well as Mila, he tightly wrapped his arm around you and kissed your head quietly whispering “I’m sorry”
You just looked up at him and kissed his chin without saying a word.
Halfway through the movie, Mila slowly began to fall asleep again. Lando was gently rubbing her back the whole time and when he would stop for a moment she would startle and say "Lala, more" so Lando had to continue until she fell asleep and you just found his gesture so adorable.
“I can't wait to see you like this with our own baby.” You said softly.
“What? Are you-?”
“I’m not pregnant, Lan” You chuckled. “I’m just saying, one day I hope.”
“You want babies with me?” He asked his fingers playing with your hair and looking into your eyes as you lifted your gaze up.
“Of course I do. I think about it often.” You admit that every now and then you find yourself daydreaming about your perfect little family and it makes you so excited about the future.
“Yeah? I do too, baby. I dream of holding you both just like this, waking up next to you, taking care of you.” He says pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Should we make it a reality soon?”
“I think we should, Lan”
the honorary WAG - cl16
summary: yn has always been known as 'the honorary wag', since she's kika's best friend and adored by all the other wags, but what happens when the girls want her to become an official wag? a bet to get her and charles together before kika and pierre's wedding sounds like a plan.
word count: 6.9k + social media posts
folkie radio: i saw that video of alex and charles dancing at a wedding and i felt like i NEEDED to write something that involved charles and weddings, this was the result ! i really hope you like it (if you do please leave a reblog)
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 2,037,465 others
pierregasly Last night I proposed to the love of my life and she said yes. @/francisca.cgomes I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, I love you ❤️
view all 54,268 comments
username1 OMFG
username2 NO WAAAAYYYYYYY
lilymhe CRYING RIGHT NOW 😭😭🥺💗
↳ username1 AHHH THE WAGS NEED TO BE BRIDESMAIDS
alex_albon Amazing news ❤️ ♥︎ by author
charles_leclerc Wow I can’t believe my childhood best friend is getting married, you both deserve all the happiness in the world and I’m so happy for you ❤️ ♥︎ by author
↳ username2 CRYING AGAIN
↳ username3 he needs to be the best man idc
username3 this wedding is going to be out of this world
francisca.cgomes IM STILL OVER THE MOON. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ♥︎ by author
↳ username5 KIKA IS GOING TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BRIDE EVER
landonorris YOO I CANT WAIT FOR THIS PARTY ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, yourinstagram, lewishamilton, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri
↳ username1 LANDOOOO PLEASE
↳ username2 and i can’t wait to see him absolutely wasted
yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IS GETTING MARRIED 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM CRYING AGAIN ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes
↳ username3 yn and kika are the it girls
↳ username4 she’s probably going to be the maid of honor im crying over people who don’t know me
liked by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer and 65,826 others
yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD IS GETTING MARRIED 🥺 im so happy for you both @/francisca.cgomes @/pierregasly (even if that means that you finally stole her from me) let the wedding planning begin 🕺
view all 3,237 comments
username1 congrats kika and pierre !!
username2 it girls ❤️🔥
carmenmmundt This wedding will be the best thing ever ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, iamrebeccad
↳ lilymhe I KNOW
↳ username3 i love that yn is not a wag but she’s loved among the wags anyway
username4 oh to be a guest at this wedding
landonorris Can I be a bridesmaid too?
↳ pierregasly No
↳ francisca.cgomes No
↳ username1 HEEEELP poor little lando norris 😭
francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SISSY 🥺 you’ll always be my wifey even if i’m married to someone else ♥︎ by author
↳ pierregasly That hurt
↳ yourinstagram OOPS
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat
the bridesmaids 👯♀️ groupchat
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
liked by username1, username2 and 54,837 others
womenofthepaddock Kika Gomes (soon to be Mrs. Gasly), Carmen Montero (Spain’s national treasure) and YN (the honorary WAG) have arrived to the Paddock #SpainGP
view all 5,048 comments
username1 SLAYYY
username2 they’re all so stunning omg
username3 oh to be one of them
username4 i love how yn is really the honorary wag
↳ username1 she should just date someone from the grid atp ♥︎ by lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe, iamrebeccad
↳ username2 ALL THE WAGS LIKING THIS COMMENT 😭
username5 i NEED yn’s outfit
username6 get yourself a bestfriend like kika gomes who takes you to formula one races
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
📍BARCELONA, SPAIN.
Every time you agreed to join Kika for her boyfriend's (and now, fiancé) races, the same question came to your mind: "Why is the paddock so confusing?"
You were currently trying to make your way back to Alpine hospitality, where you're supposed to watch the race from, but you kept getting lost. The maze of motorhomes, garages, and bustling activity was overwhelming. The constant hum of mechanics working, team members rushing around, and fans hoping for a glimpse of their favorite driver made it all more chaotic.
"YN, hey!" you heard a voice call out for you, turning around, you saw Rebecca and Carlos walking your way.
"Hey guys," you greeted them with a small hug once they approached you.
"Got lost again?" Carlos asked, and you remembered the time he found you in the same situation a couple of years ago.
"Yeah, this place is like a labyrinth. I have no idea how you guys navigate it so easily."
"Years of practice," Carlos chuckled, "Come on, We'll walk you to Alpine. It's not too far from here."
"Wait," Rebecca said before you could even start walking, "Why don't you come to Ferrari with us a bit, I'm sure Kika and Pierre won't mind."
Your eyebrows immediately raised at Rebecca's suggestion, noticing the teasing smirk on her face. She wanted to carry on with her (and the girl's) plan of making you like Charles.
Charles Leclerc, loved by millions, but you weren't quite one of them.
It's not that you actively disliked him, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with you.
Maybe it was the fact that every single time you've interacted with him ever since you started joining Kika for F1 stuff, he was somehow rude to you.
The last thing you wanted was to have an awkward interaction with him at the Ferrari garage, but you knew Rebecca wouldn't let you go that easily.
"Okay, fine," you sighed, "I'll come with you guys.
"Great! Let's go then." Rebecca's face lit up with a smile.
The three of you walked towards the Ferrari garage, the race wasn't starting for another few hours so you knew you were inevitably running into Charles once you got there.
"This is the perfect opportunity to clear the air between you and Charles," Rebecca elbowed you, almost making you roll your eyes, "Who knows? Maybe you have more in common that you realize."
"You and Charles don't like each other?" Carlos asked you, reaching out to hold his girlfriend's hand.
"Stop, It's not like that," you said, almost throwing your head back in frustration, "Every time we've interacted, he's been... dismissive. Rude, even. I don't know if it's just me or if he's like that with everyone."
"Charles can be a bit intense sometimes, especially on race weekends," Carlos pointed out, "But he's a good guy. Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot."
"Maybe," you muttered, not entirely convinced.
You eventually reached the Ferrari garage, Rebecca and Carlos led the way, weaving through the throngs of people with ease. You tried to keep up, feeling a bit like a fish out of water in the sea of red uniforms.
You spotted Charles almost immediately, deep in conversation with one of his engineers and not even noticing that the three of you entered the room.
"Charles, hey!" Rebecca called out for him, you really admired her determination on the matter.
"Hey guys," Charles approached you, and you couldn't help but get a good look at him.
He might not be your favorite on the grid, but you couldn't deny that he was really handsome.
"You remember YN, right?" Rebecca asked with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
"Of course," Charles replied, a small smirk playing on his lips, "You're going to be Kika's maid of honor, right?"
"That's right," you nodded, a bit surprised he remembered.
Rebecca and Carlos exchanged a knowing glance before Carlos spoke up, "We need to go check on something. You two, catch up."
You shot them a look of disbelief, but they were already walking away, leaving you and Charles alone.
"So, what have you been up to?" Charles asked, leaning casually against the wall. "It's been a while since I've seen you around."
"Yeah, I haven't really been able to come to any races, I'm moving to Monaco, so that has been keeping me busy," you said, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Really? Which area?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
You told him the name of the neighborhood, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No way. I live there too. Are you the one who's been making all those moving noises two houses away from mine?"
"I fear that would be me," you laughed, feeling some of the awkwardness melt away, "I didn't know you lived there."
"Small world, huh?" he chuckled, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of the Charles that everyone else seemed to adore.
"Yeah, it is," you agreed, still a bit cautious but warming up to him. "Guess we'll be seeing more of each other."
"Looks like it," he said with a smile, "I mean, at least you'll have someone you can ask for a cup of milk when you run out."
As you continued to chat with Charles, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the conversation. It was a stark contrast to your previous encounters with him, and it made you question your initial judgment. His smile was warm, his laugh infectious, and the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Rebecca and Carlos across the garage, watching the two of you with satisfied smiles and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at them. You were already expecting the girls groupchat to explode with messages about you and Charles.
"Looks like your plan is working," Carlos said to Rebecca, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
"Told you it would," Rebecca grinned, "The rest of the girls and I even made a bet."
"A bet?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Yep," Rebecca confirmed, a playful glint in her eyes. "We bet on getting them together before Pierre and Kika's wedding. We all agree they'd make a great match."
"You and your schemes, amor," Carlos chuckled, shaking his head, "But I have to admit, you might be onto something."
Rebecca leaned her head on Carlos's shoulder, watching you and Charles laugh together. "Trust me, Carlos. Sometimes people just need a little nudge in the right direction."
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
INSTAGTAM
liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 70,002 others
yourinstagram back on the f1 gig and reunited with my girls 🤍 the last slide shows how much the soon to be married couple loves each other
tagged: francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and iamrebeccad
view all 3,987 comments
username1 SLAYYY
username2 the honorary WAG for real
carmenmmundt I missed you so much 🫶 ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram same here 🥲
f1gossip We love the WAGS (and yn) being besties
↳ username1 they need a masterplan to make yn a wag ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes
pierregasly My fiancée loves me 🥰
↳ francisca.cgomes more like tolerates
↳ yourinstagram she’ll always love me more
lilymhe bridesmaids gang 👯♀️ ♥︎ by author
↳ landonorris Am I still not allowed in the gc?
↳ francisca.cgomes exactly
↳ username2 HEEEEEELP
charles_leclerc Lovely to catch up. See you around in Monaco 😉 ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram likewise 😊
↳ username1 HELLOOOO???
↳ username2 SOMEONE DECODE THIS
↳ username3 i think this is the first time i see charles and yn interact 😭😭
iamrebeccad My job here is done
↳ carlossainz55 😂😂😂
↳ yourinstagram never trust the sainz-donaldson couple…
↳ username1 WHATS GOING ON HERE
↳ username2 lord i’m so nosy i need to be part of their friendgroup
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO
Living alone it's all fun and games until you get locked out of your house after a quick run to the store for some late night snacks.
You stood there, staring at your sophisticated security system installed in all the houses in your upscale Monaco neighborhood —one that was definitely too expensive for you, but you were grateful the company you worked for paid for your rent — feeling utterly defeated.
The high-tech lock had its advantages, but it also meant that once you were locked out, getting back in without a key was next to impossible.
Sighing, you pulled out your phone and texted Kika, hoping she might be able to help.
You frowned at the suggestion. Asking Charles for help wasn’t your first choice, especially given your rocky interactions in the past. And yes, maybe you had a great conversation in Barcelona but that didn't mean that he suddenly liked you and would be willing to help you.
What if he's busy? Or thinks you're stupid for locking yourself out of your own house? What if this is all part of the girl's plan of setting you up with a driver?
Were some thoughts that ran through your head as you stood in your porch. But with no other options, you pushed them away and sent him a message.
You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. Asking Charles, someone who you disliked from time to time and thought he hated you just a few weeks ago for help wasn't on your bingo card, but there you were waiting for him to show up.
True to his word, Charles arrived shortly, wearing a casual outfit that made him look really comfy, and you prayed that you didn't disturb him too much with your antics.
"Locked out, huh?" he said with a grin.
"Yeah, stupid me forgot the keys inside," you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket. "I actually learned a trick for these locks. All the houses here have the same system, and I’ve had my fair share of lockouts."
You watched as he worked with the keys and the lock, not sure of what he was doing but trusting his word that he knew how to unlock it. After what it seemed like a minute, your door unlocked with ease.
"Thank you so much, Charles. You saved me," you said, letting out a sigh of relief, "And I'm really sorry that I bothered you, you must've been busy or just resting and I made you get out of the house."
"Hey, It's okay," he said, flashing you a warm smile, "Told you could shout if you needed a spare cup of milk, or in this case, a way into your house."
"Thank you a lot, really."
You smiled softly as you both stood on your porch, and he mirrored your gesture. You looked at his features for a moment, his eyes were soft and a beautiful shade of green and blue, he looked extremely cozy clad in his hoodie and joggers.
Ugh why are you even thinking about Charles Leclerc like that? The voice inside your head came out again. And you didn't have an answer for it, but you pushed the thought away and focused on the present moment.
"So, how's the unpacking going?" Charles said after a minute of silence.
"It's getting there. Still a lot to do," you shrugged.
"Well, if you need any help, just let me know," he offered. "I'm pretty handy with setting up furniture and stuff."
"I might take you up on that," you said, and you fell into silence again.
And that's when you realized that for some reason, you didn't want the interaction to end, and something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he didn't want it either.
"How about you come in for a cup of tea?" you suggested without even taking a spare second to think about it, "As a thank you for helping me out, I mean."
He looked pleasantly surprised. "I'd really like that. Thanks."
You led him inside, quickly tidying up a few stray boxes before boiling water for tea. Once it was ready, you both sat down with steaming cups of tea, and you started talking about the topic that was inevitable among the grid and friends: Pierre and Kika's upcoming wedding.
"Can you believe they're getting married?" you asked, stirring your tea.
"I know, right?" Charles replied with a chuckle. "Pierre's been so excited. He talks about it all the time."
"They're such a great couple," you said, smiling. "Kika has been my best friend for years. I couldn't be happier for her."
"Yeah, Pierre is like a brother to me," Charles added, his expression softening. "He deserves all the happiness in the world."
You took a sip of your tea, feeling the warmth spread through you, "They deserve each other."
"By the way," Charles said, setting down his cup, "have you thought about what you’re going to wear?"
"I’ve been stressing over it," you laughed, "I want to find something perfect, and I feel like I'm running out of time."
"I’m sure whatever you choose will be great," he said reassuringly. "You have good taste."
"Thanks," you said, feeling a bit flustered by the compliment. "What about you? Got your outfit ready?"
"Not at all," he replied with a grin. "You know, since you're the maid of honor and I'm the best man, we should coordinate our outfits," he suggested with a playful smile. "Imagine how great we'll look standing next to Pierre and Kika if we match."
You laughed at the idea. "Maybe we should. It would make for some great photos."
"I can already see it now," Charles chuckled, "The perfect duo."
The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying Charles's company. He was funny, engaging, and far from the dismissive person you initially thought he was. You talked about everything from the wedding to your favorite places in Monaco, your work, his feelings about the F1 season so far and you couldn't help but think about how much the girls would freak out if they saw you talking and engaging the way you were.
Maybe they were right about you and Charles getting along well, but they're wrong about you possibly dating him, because you weren't looking for that, you thought to yourself again.
As the night drew to a close, Charles stood up to leave. "Thanks for the tea and the company, YN. I’m surprised we never got to talk like this before."
"Me too," you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt for your previous judgments about him. "I'm glad we did, though. And thank you again for helping me tonight, you were kind of my savior."
"Stop thanking me, you already did it like ten times," he said as you both walked to the door. "Are you going to the race in Austria this weekend?"
"I wasn’t planning on it," you said, "Kika's not going, and I usually go with her."
"Well, you could be my guest this time," he offered, a hopeful look in his eyes. "It could be fun."
You blinked, taken aback by his offer. "Are you serious?" you asked, needing to be sure you heard him right.
"Absolutely," Charles said, his tone sincere, "I know you're good friends with the girls and you love hanging out with them. It would be fun, and I'd love to have you there."
Your mind raced. When you left your house a few hours ago you never expected to get locked out which would lead to end your night with an invitation from Charles Leclerc to the Austrian Grand Prix, offering you a chance to spend time together at a race.
The wheels in your brain turned, making you unsure of your answer, when deep down you knew you wanted to take on his offer and go to Austria. You loved attending races and being around everyone in the F1 world, at first it was just something you did with Kika because of her boyfriend, but now it was something you enjoyed a lot.
Plus, you had to admit, the idea of spending more time with Charles was becoming increasingly appealing.
On the other hand, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt in the back of your mind. Was this just Charles being nice? Or what if the girls had put him up to this in another attempt to set you two up? You didn't want to complicate things somehow, especially with Pierre and Kika's wedding on the horizon.
Realizing you had been silent for a moment too long, you looked at Charles, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation, and maybe you were crazy, but something in his face told you that he wanted you to say yes.
"That sounds amazing, Charles," you said, a small smile playing on your lips, "But… can I think about it? It sounds fun but I want to make sure I can make it work with my schedule."
"Of course," he replied with a nod, not pushing you for an immediate answer, "Just let me know soon so I can make the arrangements if you decide to come. I'd really like to have you there."
"Thanks, Charles," you said, feeling a warmth in your chest at his genuine interest. "I'll let you know soon."
"Great," he said, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter a little. "Goodnight, YN."
"Goodnight, Charles," you replied, watching as he walked away.
As you closed the door, you had one thought running through your head: the bridesmaids groupchat is about to go crazy
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the bridesmaids 👯♀️ groupchat
charles and yn texts
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📍SPIELBERG, AUSTRIA
The Austrian GP weekend had been eventful so far to say the least. When you arrived on friday, you expected to catch an Uber to your hotel, or for someone sent by Charles to pick you up.
But turns out, Charles himself was standing there as you walked through the gates, waiting for you with a warm smile.
None of the girls ended up attending the GP, so you spent most of your time with Charles. It felt strange at first, since you had never spent much time interacting with him before, but you'd be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it.
Despite the friendly atmosphere off the track, it was a tough weekend for Charles competitively. His car had plenty of complications, from engine issues to problematic tires, which led him to a bad result on Sunday.
With that excuse, you suggested buying him dinner. You thought it would be a good way to cheer him up and to thank him for the weekend. It was friendly and casual.
You decided to have room service in his hotel room, neither of you in the mood to go outside, so you ordered a couple of pizzas, a bottle of wine and desert.
As the room service cart rolled in, you both laughed at how much food you had ordered. "I think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs," Charles said, eyeing the spread.
"Well, we have all night to work through it," you replied with a grin.
You both settled on the couch, the boxes of pizza open in front of you and glasses of wine in hand. If someone had told you a few months ago that you would be in this context with Charles Leclerc you'd laughed at them.
You knew the girls would have a field day when they found out.
"I'm really glad you came this weekend," Charles said after chewing on his slice of pizza, "It's been nice having you around."
"I'm glad I came too," you said, smiling back. "I didn't realize how much fun it would be. I always come to the races with Kika so this was different. Thank you again for asking me."
"I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about asking you," Charles took a sip of his wine, "I wasn't sure if you'd want to spend time with me."
You almost tensed at his words. All this time, you had assumed he disliked you because he had been rude or dismissive in your past interactions. But maybe it had all been a misunderstanding, like Kika had told you multiple times.
Damn you hated when she was right.
"Why wouldn't I?" you partially knew the answer, but you still wanted to hear what he had to say.
"I don't know. I guess I always thought you didn't like me much," he shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I thought the same thing about you," you laughed softly, "I figured you were being rude because you didn't like me."
"I never meant to be rude to you, at least not intentionally," Charles shook his head, "I'm really sorry if I ever was."
You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "It's okay, Charles. I guess we both just misunderstood each other."
"I'm glad we cleared that up," Charles gave a relieved smile, "It feels good to finally talk about it. Honestly, with the wedding coming up and the roles we're playing in it, I was nervous about the entire thing being awkward."
"We're good now," you said, feeling a genuine warmth spread through you. "And now I can join you in suit shopping without it being awkward."
Charles laughed, a sound that was starting to become one of your favorites. "Oh yeah, we still have to do that. We're definitely matching."
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INSTAGTAM
liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.gomes and 102,268 others
yourinstagram lots of red and lots of room service ❤️
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username1 SLAYYYY
username2 CHARLES AND YN???
lilymhe The one time we all decide to skip the GP… ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt
↳ lilyzneimer literally
↳ iamrebeccad 😭
↳ username1 WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT LET ME INNNNNNNNNN
pierregasly I guess you don’t need me for paddock passes anymore ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram i’ve never needed you that was always kika
username3 wait are her and charles together ??
↳ username4 they could be friends chill
username5 yn finally becoming a wag??? the masterplan worked ♥︎ by iamrebeccad, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe
↳ username1 ALL OF THE WAGS HERE AGAIN 😭
charles_leclerc Always a pleasure 🤍 ♥︎ by author
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gasly - gomes wedding 💍💍 groupchat
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📍MONTE CARLO, MONACO
"Charles you literally just passed me."
"Did I? Oh, I see you now," Charles said as he spotted you walking towards his car, hanging up the phone and parking so you could get in.
You got into the passenger seat, clicking your seat belt and dropping your hands to your lap, "Hello there."
"Hi love," Charles leaned in to peck your cheek, "How was work?"
This was routine by now. After your time alone in Austria, you and Charles couldn't stop hanging out. He picked you up from work, you cooked dinner for both of you, you had sitcom marathons together and so on.
It felt nice.
"It was meh," you shrugged, "My day is about to get interesting, though, isn't it?"
"If you find looking at ties and shirts for hours any amusing, then yes it is."
Today was the day you and Charles had been talking about for so long, you'd get his outfit for the Gasly-Gomes wedding.
You got your dress already, it was a beautiful satin green dress you absolutely loved. Since Charles was away racing when you bought it, you showed it to him through FaceTime and he insisted he needed to get the perfect suit to match it.
"It's going to be fun," you poked his side as he drove, "But we do need to find the perfect fit, Kika is going to kill us if we ruin her pictures."
"I mean you're going to look stunning so I just need to stand next to you and hope it rubs on me," he shrugged, and you felt your cheeks burn.
Charles made a habit out of complimenting you at this point, and even though you didn't want to think too much about it, you found yourself melting every single time.
"Feeding my ego again, Leclerc?" you teased.
"Just stating the obvious."
You engaged in small conversation as he drove to the boutique you've previously picked as your first option. One of the things about your unexpected friendship with Charles that you loved the most was how easy it is to talk to him about anything. It was easy, comfortable, and it made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company.
When you arrived at the boutique, Charles opened the door for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.
Inside, the boutique was filled with racks of elegant suits and dresses. A sales assistant approached you, and you explained what you were looking for. She guided you to a section with suits that could match what you needed.
Charles began browsing through the racks, holding up different jackets and shirts for you to see. After some deliberation, Charles found a suit that caught his eye.
"Try it on," you urged him, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Charles disappeared into the fitting room, and you waited eagerly. When he emerged, your breath caught in your throat. The suit fit him perfectly, making him look even more handsome than usual.
Since when were you this down for this man?
"What do you think?" he asked, turning to look at himself in the mirror.
"It's perfect," you said, "You look amazing, Charles."
He grinned, clearly pleased with your approval, "You think I look amazing, huh?"
"Don't let it go to your head, Leclerc," you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.
With the suit sorted, you moved on to finding the perfect tie. After a bit of searching, you found one that matched your dress perfectly. You held it up for Charles to see, and he nodded in approval.
"Looks great. Now, help me put it on?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his eyes.
"Sure," you said, stepping closer to him.
As you worked on his tie, you realized just how close you were standing. Your hands moved deftly, but your heart raced with the proximity. You could feel Charles's breath on your face, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips every now and then. His eyes were fixed on you, a soft intensity in them that made your knees feel weak.
"There," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "all done."
But neither of you moved. Your faces were inches apart, and the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity. You noticed Charles glancing at your lips, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.
"Shame on Kika and Pierre," Charles said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll definitely be the best-looking pair at the wedding."
You laughed lightly, the tension easing just a bit. "Absolutely. They'll have to step up their game."
Charles's hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your heart flutter even more. "Thanks for helping me with this," he said, his voice sincere.
"Anytime," you replied, your voice equally soft.
You lingered a moment longer. It was just you and Charles, standing so close, sharing a moment that felt incredibly intimate. Eventually, you both stepped back, a silent understanding passing between you.
You really wanted him to kiss you
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liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 107,635 others
yourinstagram two weeks away from the gasly-gomes wedding: the happy couple, suit picking, speech writing and last girls trip as single ladies 🥲
tagged: fracisca.cgomes, pierregasly, charles_leclerc, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt
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username1 THE WEDDING IS SO SOOOOON
username2 BOYFRIEND CHARLES CONTENT JUST DROPPED
↳ username1 omfg are they together ???
iamrebeccad 🤍🤍🤍🤍
lilymhe “last girls trip as single ladies” and you’re the only one who’s actually single (not for long tho) ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, iamrebeccad
↳ username1 LILY😭
↳ yourinstagram 🙄🙄🙄🙄
username3 we love the honorary wag
username4 charles in a suit i’m going insane
landonorris Can’t wait for the most alcoholic weekend of the year ♥︎ by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lancestroll
↳ pierregasly I’m terrified already
charles_leclerc Best man and maid of honor, match made in heaven ♥︎ by author
↳ username1 CHARLESSSSS
↳ francisca.cgomes you’re welcome
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the bridesmaids 👯♀️ groupchat
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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY
The most awaited weekend of the year was finally here, the Gasly-Gomes wedding bound was in full swing. Guests arrived to Portofino from all over, their excitement palpable as they gathered to celebrate the love between Pierre and Kika.
Despite Charles' attempts to convince you to fly with him, you were firm on your decision of flying with Kika, you knew how nervous she felt and you wanted to be by your best friend's side for the most important moment of her life.
However, you were attending the rehearsal dinner together. Which had caused a commotion with the girls earlier in the week.
Their so called plan of getting me a boyfriend from the grid won't work, you thought to yourself, I'm not even looking for a boyfriend, Charles is my friend.
The rehearsal dinner was set in a beautiful, intimate restaurant overlooking the sea, and you were waiting for Charles at the hotel's reception to leave together. You smoothed out your dress, glancing at the grand clock on the wall, you felt a bit nervous, which only made you think about Kika and the fact that she was probably a million times more anxious.
"Hey there," Charles's voice broke through your thoughts. You turned to see him approaching, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit, "Mon Dieu, you look insanely gorgeous."
You felt your cheeks warm at his words. "Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself."
He grinned, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
You linked your arm with his, and together you made your way to the car waiting outside. The drive to the restaurant was filled with light conversation and laughter. Charles had a way of making you feel at ease, and tonight was no different.
As you arrived at the venue, the soft glow of candles and string lights illuminated the setup. Tables were adorned with flowers, and the sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop. You could see Pierre and Kika at the entrance, greeting guests with radiant smiles.
You were really happy for them.
"Let's go say hi," Charles suggested, leading you towards the happy couple.
"You both look amazing!" Kika exclaimed once you approached them, hugging you tightly. "Thank you for being here."
Pierre soon joined, greeting both you and Charles with a warm smile. "Thanks for keeping her sane on the flight here," he joked, giving Kika a playful nudge.
"It's the least I can do, you already stole her from me ," you said with a grin.
"I promise to share her from time to time." Pierre joked, making all of you laugh.
The four of you exchanged a few more words before making your way into the venue. The atmosphere inside was magical, the soft hum of conversation and laughter filled the air.
You really could feel the love and excitement radiating from everyone present.
You made your way towards the table, noticing Lando by the bar already. You couldn't help but giggle, he was dead serious about going all out with the alcohol this weekend.
You settled into your seats, Charles opening your chair for you before sitting down. You were at a big table where most drivers and their partners were already settled, Carmen and George next to you and Max and Kelly on Charles' side.
Damn, you were really the honorary WAG
"What?" you said, noticing Carmen's teasing smile as she glanced at you and Charles.
"Oh nothing," she shrugged, "You guys look really cute together."
You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Thanks, Carmen," you replied, trying to brush off her comment. "We're here as friends."
"Sure, sure," Carmen said with a wink, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence.
The evening flowed smoothly, the conversations lively and the laughter contagious. As you sipped on your champagne, you couldn't help but steal glances at Charles. He seemed so at ease, laughing and joking with the others, his eyes occasionally meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter.
Dinner was served, a spread of Italian cuisine that had everyone praising the chefs. You and Charles shared bites of each other's dishes, a habit that had become second nature.
After dinner, it was time for the speeches. Since you were best man and maid of honor, you came up with the idea of surprising Kika and Pierre with heartfelt messages, which lead you to nights of takeout at his place to help each other write your speeches.
Charles was the first to stand, his presence commanding attention as he held up his glass.
"Bonsoir, everyone," he began, his voice clear and confident, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Charles,"
"No one knows you! You're not world champion," Max yelled from his place, making everyone laugh.
"Somebody's jealous because he's not best man, I see," Charles teased, causing laughter again, "Anyway, I have known Pierre for many years now, and I can honestly say he is one of the best friends I could ever ask for. And Kika, you have brought out the best in him. Your love story is truly inspiring, and I am so honored to stand here today as your best man."
His words were heartfelt and genuine, and you could see Pierre and Kika's eyes shining with emotion. Charles continued with anecdotes about him and Pierre's karting days and well-wishes, his speech met with applause and cheers by the end.
It was your turn now, you were nervous but Charles sent a wink your way as he passed you the microphone that made you relax.
"Kika and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember," you began, your voice steady. "We have shared so many incredible moments together, and seeing her find someone who makes her so happy is truly a blessing. Pierre, you have brought so much joy into her life, and I am beyond thrilled to see you both start this new chapter together."
Your speech was filled with love and appreciation, and by the time you finished, there were a few more teary eyes around the room. Kika hugged you tightly, whispering her thanks in your ear.
After the speeches, the lights dimmed, and music began to play. Everyone gathered around the dance floor, and Charles turned to you with a mischievous smile. "Care to dance?"
"Sure," you replied, taking his hand as he led you to the center of the dance floor. The music was slow, and Charles pulled you close, his hand resting on the small of your back.
You danced together, your bodies moving in sync. You felt his breath on your cheek, and the warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your faces inches apart, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.
From across the room, Lily and Rebecca watched with satisfied smiles. Alex joined them, raising an eyebrow. "So, you think your plan worked?" he asked, amusement in his voice.
"Definitely," Lily said, her eyes twinkling. "Look at them. They're practically made for each other."
Rebecca nodded in agreement. "We've been planning this for months, and it looks like it's finally happening."
"Well, I have to admit, you girls make a pretty good matchmaking team," Alex chuckled, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.
"We just knew they needed a little push," Lily grinned, "And now, look at them. They can't take their eyes off each other."
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liked by iamrebeccad, charles_leclerc and 254,378 others
yourinstagram MY BEST FRIEND JUST GOT MARRIED 🥲🥲🥲 brb i’ll be dancing and weeping all night
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username1 OMFG KIKA LOOKS STUNNING
username2 AHHHH THIS CONTENT
lilymhe same over here 😩😩 ♥︎ by author
username3 god i’d give up my first born yo be at that wedding right now
yukitsunoda0511 yukierre is for life ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram so is kikayn
↳ username1 I LOVE THEM 😭😭
↳ username2 ooohhh yuki and yn should get together so she’s finally an official wag
↳ username3 NOOO WE NEED CHARLESYN
francisca.cgomes I LOVE YOU JUST GRABBED MY PHONE TO COMMENT ON THIS ❤️❤️ now back to my wedding lol ♥︎ by author
↳ username1 she’s too iconic
liked by username1, username2 and 25,926 others
f1gossip Charles Leclerc getting cozy with one of the bridesmaids at the Gasly-Gomes wedding 😳
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username1 OMFG
username2 LOOORD
username3 ISNT THAT YN 😭😭
↳ username1 YEAH
username4 oh god lando really exposed them, someone take his phone from him
username5 WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNN
username6 oh to be at that wedding right now
username7 YN HONORARY WAG IS NO MORE ITS TIME FOR YN REAL WAG ERA
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📍PORTOFINO, ITALY
Kika Gomes and Pierre Gasly were finally married.
The ceremony was held at a charming seaside chapel, adorned with white flowers and delicate ribbons. Guests filled the pews, their faces reflecting the joy and love of the occasion.
You stood beside Kika as her maid of honor, heart swelling with pride and happiness as she exchanged vows with Pierre. Charles, standing beside Pierre as the best man, caught your eye several times, his gaze warm and reassuring. The ceremony was beautiful, filled with heartfelt words, laughter, and a few tears of joy.
Charles made sure to compliment you from the moment he first saw you, and everyone was gushing over the two of you being color coordinated, just like you thought they would be.
After the vows were exchanged and the couple was pronounced husband and wife, it was time for the reception, or as Lando Norris would like to call it, the time to get absolutely wasted.
The party was held at a stunning villa overlooking the sea. The evening was filled with delicious food, heartfelt toasts, and lively dancing.
Just like the rehearsal dinner two days earlier, you and Charles were together all the time. Sitting beside each other at the table, Charles grabbing the train of your dress for you when you needed it, keeping at least a hand on each other all the time. You knew that wasn't "we're just friends" behavior, but you were too happy to mind.
As the night progressed, the drinks kept flowing, and everyone was in high spirits. Lando, true to his word, was leading the charge in getting everyone to the dance floor. You and Charles danced together, his hands on your shoulders as you swayed to the music, his breath on your neck as he whispered to your ear.
You knew some prying eyes were on both of you — and by that, you mean Rebecca, Lily and their respective boyfriends—, but once again, you were too happy and tipsy to mind.
After hours of dancing and celebrating, you finally took a break and sat down with your friends at one of the tables near the dance floor.
“You two were adorable on the dance floor,” Lily teased, giving you a playful nudge.
“Oh, stop,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “We’re just having fun.”
“Yeah, right. Just friends, huh?” Rebecca smirked.
Before you could respond, Charles appeared at the edge of the table, looking as handsome as ever, his suit jacket long forgotten and a few buttons of his shirt undone.
You were really down bad for him.
“Mind if I steal YN for a bit?” he asked, his eyes twinkling from the alcohol.
"Let the girl breathe mate! She's probably tired of you," Carlos teased, earning a round of laughter from the table.
You rolled your eyes playfully. "I think I can manage a bit more of Charles," you said, standing up and taking his offered hand.
"Of course you can," Rebecca said with a smirk. "Go meet your boyfriend."
You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you protested weakly, standing up from the table.
“Not yet, anyway.” Lily laughed.
You ignored her comment, though your heart did skip a beat. You don't know if Charles had heard any of it, but you let him lead you out to the terrace, your hand wrapped around his. From the corner of you eye, you saw Kika looking at you, nudging her husband and pointing at you both, teasing smiles on their faces.
They just got married so you'll let it slide.
“Nice to get a break from all the noise,” you said once you reached the terrace, leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea.
“Definitely,” Charles agreed, standing close beside you. “It’s been a perfect night, though.”
"I know," you smiled softly, "I'm so happy for Kika and Pierre, they deserve this so much."
"They really do. It's been a beautiful day," Charles nodded, his eyes fixed on you, "Just as beautiful as you."
He stepped closer, wrapping a hand around your waist, pulling you gently against him. Your heart raced at his touch, and you couldn't help but glance at his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. You'd thought about it more times than you'd like to admit, and the way he glanced at yours told you he did too.
“Charles,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “what are you trying to do?”
He smiled, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m trying to charm the pretty bridesmaid,” he replied softly, his thumb tracing small circles on your waist.
You laughed, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“Let’s find out,” he said, leaning in slowly.
He closed the distance between you, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more, slow and sweet, filled with a longing that had been building for months. His hands slid up to cup your face, deepening the kiss, and you melted into him, losing yourself in the moment.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.
“Definitely working,” you whispered, making him chuckle.
He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes full of affection. “Good to know,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth.
You spent a few more moments on the terrace, talking and laughing, sharing more kisses and wrapped around each other.
You were not sure what this meant for your friendship, but you were too happy to care. The night felt magical, like a dream you never wanted to end. It was a night of new beginnings, not just for Kika and Pierre, but maybe for you as well.
As you both made your way back inside, hand in hand, you noticed a few knowing smiles and exchanged glances among your friends. Kika and Pierre were still on the dance floor, looking blissfully happy, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy for them.
“Look who’s back!” Lando called out, a wide grin on his face.
“What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at their suspicious behavior.
Kika abruptly approached the group, dragging Pierre by the hand a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Everybody pay up,” she said, holding out her hand.
Charles and you exchanged confused looks. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“We had a bet going,” Kika explained, clearly enjoying this. “We bet that we could get you two together before the wedding. And technically, we did.”
“Damn, I didn't think you girls would actually make it happen,” George handed over some money with a laugh.
“Wait, you all really bet on us? The infamous masterplan was actually a real thing?” you asked, still processing the revelation.
“Of course it was,” Rebecca said with a grin. “It was obvious to everyone except you two.”
"I can't believe you guys," you said, shaking your head but unable to suppress a smile, covering your face with your hands, Charles pecked your temple gently.
"To be fair, the girls started it, we just joined in later," Oscar said, trying to deflect the blame.
“I can’t believe it took a wedding and a bet to get us here," Charles chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "I guess we owe you all a thank you,"
"No need to thank us. Just be happy," Carmen sent a wink your way, making you smile.
"Alrighty, a toast now," Lando said, climbing on top of a chair. Everyone knew he was too drunk to be stopped so you just let him, "To Kika and Pierre the happiest and most beautiful couple in the world!"
"Hear, hear!" echoed through the crowd as glasses clinked together, laughter and cheers filling the air.
"And to YN finally becoming an official WAG!" Kika chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief, making the girls cheer.
"Official, huh?" Charles murmured, leaning in closer.
"We'll talk about that later, Leclerc," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The rest of the night was a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, champagne and celebration. Charles never left your side as you enjoyed with your friends.
As the party continued, you found yourselves on the dance floor once more, swaying to a slow song. Charles held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you. "So, how does it feel to be an official WAG?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear.
"As far as I'm concerned, you haven't asked anything, mister," you teased raising your eyebrows.
"Well then, consider this me asking," he murmured, his voice playful yet sincere.
"In that case," you began, teasing him further, "I suppose it feels pretty good."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Good to hear," he replied softly, brushing his lips against your temple.
Being an official wag was amazing
read some extra scenes here !
I’m cracking up at the thought of Oscar accidentally seeing a nude of his sister in Carlos’s phone
HELP I HAD TO ELABORATE ON THIS
read little bitch here
Hotel rooms are boring. There's nothing else to do other than lay in bed and shower.
You regret telling Carlos — because now he's your boyfriend, and you share hotel rooms with him, how wild — that you wanted to stay in bed all morning and not join him for practice sessions because now is nearly midday and he's not back yet. And you're bored.
Not finding anything else to do, you open your suitcase to put together your outfit for Quali tomorrow, you laugh when the first thing you see is a McLaren cap and a Ferrari one packed together. And to think that next year you'll be adding a Williams one to your suitcase for race weekends.
As you move a pair of jeans, you come into view with something you didn't even remember you packed — a red lacy set of lingerie.
You decide to put it on, after all, you don't have anything better to do.
Meanwhile at the Zandvoort Circuit, Oscar, Carlos, Lando and Max are lounging at a hospitality area. The sessions and meetings for the day were over, so they were just waiting for the call to head out.
"Lando, can I borrow your phone? Mine is dead and I want to check Lily's flight, it's supposed to land soon," Oscar says from his place on the couch.
"I can't mate, I'm sexting right now," Lando replies, making the group laugh and Oscar roll his eyes.
"Take mine, it's in the table," Carlos says, fixing himself a cup of coffee from the small station in the room.
"Thanks," Oscar grabs the device, failing when he tries to unlock it, "What's your pass code?"
"Your sister's birthday," Carlos says casually, stirring his coffee.
The room erupts in a chorus of groans and laughter.
"Oh my god, Carlos," Lando exclaims, barely containing his giggles. "That's so cheesy!"
"Seriously, mate?" Max joins in, "What are you, a teenager with his first crush?"
Oscar looks at Carlos with mock disgust on his face. "My sister's birthday? Really? I don't know whether to be touched or grossed out."
Carlos shrugs, a slight blush creeping up his neck. "What? It's easy to remember."
"Yeah, sure," Lando snorts. "I bet your wallpaper is a picture of you two as well."
Carlos doesn't respond, suddenly very interested in his coffee.
"Oh my god, it is!" Max howls with laughter. "You're such a sap, Sainz!"
Oscar shakes his head, chuckling. "I can't believe this. My sister's turned you into a lovesick puppy."
Just as Oscar is about to search for his girlfriend's flight information, a text notification pops up. Out of habit and muscle memory, he ends up tapping on it, opening the message.
Oscar's eyes widen, and he lets out a yelp, nearly dropping the phone. "Oh god, my eyes!" he exclaims, tossing the phone back to Carlos as if it were on fire.
The others look at him, confused and amused.
"What happened?" Lando asks, trying to peer at Carlos' phone.
Oscar covers his face with his hands, groaning. "I just saw something I really, really didn't need to see. Carlos, mate, you need to put a lock on those messages from my sister."
With a frown, Carlos opens his messages, tapping on your contact and finding what made Oscar scream in disgust.
A picture of you wearing the lacy red set, with the caption "we need to put these to good use before we throw all the ferrari red away"
Carlos glances at his phone, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly locks the screen. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Ah, I see. Sorry about that, Oscar."
Oscar is still covering his eyes dramatically. "I'm going to need therapy after this. Seriously, Carlos, password protect those messages or something!"
"Come on, what was it?" Lando tries to sneak a peek at Carlos' phone. "It can't be that bad!"
"Trust me, you don't want to know," Oscar groans. "There are some things a brother should never see."
"Look on the bright side, at least you know your sister is happy?" Max pats Oscar on the back.
"Not helping, Verstappen!" Oscar throws a nearby cushion at Max, which only makes everyone laugh harder.
"Sorry, hermano. I'll be more careful next time," Carlos says, putting on an awkward smile.
"There better not be a next time," Oscar mumbles, still looking traumatized. "I'm going to need therapy after this."
Oscar makes a mental note to never, ever touch Carlos' phone again, and Carlos makes a mental note to lock his girlfriend's messages. And put those lacy red sets to good use later, too.
omg the little Alonso fics are TOO cute!!! Can I please request one where little Alonso has a little crush on a driver and how the others react especially her papa? 😂
Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!
-xoxo, babygirl 💕
The Baby-Crush
The sun was high over the paddock, the heat intense enough to send most of the drivers straight to the designated cooling area after their morning practice laps. The “sweating area,” as they’d all jokingly dubbed it, was packed with drivers catching their breath and throwing back water bottles like they’d just crossed a desert.
Suddenly, the calm was broken by a pattering of tiny feet.
“Papá!”
Every driver’s head whipped around to see the sight they’d been waiting for all season — three-year-old Yn Alonso running at full speed through the paddock, her dark hair bouncing as she scanned for her father. Even with the humid weather, she was dressed in a white fluffy dress, with a big green bow, to not only represent her daddy's team, but to also keep her hair from slipping over her eyes.
Fernando's grin grew as she hurtled towards him. He knelt down to catch her, arms wide open, as she nearly toppled him over in a flying hug.
“Mi niña,” he laughed, scooping her up and holding her close. “What are you doing here, pequeña?”
She beamed at him, then, without a word, wiggled to be let down, her big brown eyes already scanning the room. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Yn’s eyes locked onto Charles, who was laughing with Carlos.
Charles noticed her stare and broke out in a huge grin. “Ah, there she is!” He knelt down, stretching his arms out wide. “Come here, Yn!”
Without a second thought, Yn sprinted straight into Charles's open arms, bypassing every other driver without a glance. Fernando's smile froze. Carlos raised his eyebrows, nudging Lando as he stifled a laugh.
Charles lifted Yn effortlessly, spinning her around as she giggled and clung to him, her little arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re getting so big!” he said, poking her nose gently, earning a bright giggle.
“You’re her favorite, Charles,” Pierre teased, crossing his arms with a playful pout. “I remember when I was the favorite.”
Yn looked over at Pierre with a big smile but tightened her grip around Charles’s neck. “Charlie!” she insisted, pointing at him as if to make it clear who her favorite was.
Lando laughed, nudging Max. “Charles has a new fangirl, and she's got the Alonso seal of approval. How does it feel to have Fernando’s blessing?”
But a low, grumbling sound interrupted the teasing. Fernando had crossed his arms, a deep frown etched on his face. “Blessing? What blessing? I did not give any blessing. This… this is betrayal. By my own hija.”
Max raised his hands in mock surrender, struggling to contain his laughter. “Hey, hey, don’t look at us, mate. Looks like she’s got a bit of a crush on Charles.”
Fernando’s eyes narrowed as he watched Charles gently bouncing Yn in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder with a content sigh. The other drivers snickered as Fernando muttered to himself, pacing a bit and shaking his head.
“Charles,” he said, his voice half-joking, half-serious, “that is my daughter, not some… Ferrari groupie.”
Charles looked over at Fernando with a grin, carefully placing a tiny kiss on Yn’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Fernando. I am a gentleman.”
Yn’s cheeks turned pink as she let out a giggle and hid her face in Charles’s shoulder, peeking out with a shy smile. Charles, absolutely charmed, looked back at Fernando. “See? She’s happy.”
Carlos leaned in, smirking. “You’re in trouble, Charles. Fernando looks ready to put you in the barriers next race.”
But Charles, clearly enjoying himself, pretended not to notice the jealous glares from both Fernando and the other drivers. He cradled Yn a little closer, leaning his forehead against hers, as her tiny fingers played with the zipper of his racing suit.
“Charlie,” she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, “are you gonna win?”
Charles softened, nodding earnestly. “I’ll do my best, just for you, okay?”
Fernando let out a frustrated sigh. “Oh, so now you’re winning races, huh? Where was that last season?”
Everyone burst into laughter as Charles sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “What can I say, Fernando? I have a good-luck charm now.” He tapped Yn’s nose, and she burst into giggles again.
Lando was practically in stitches. “Mate, you’ve got a tiny Alonso fangirl giving you her blessing. You’d better win next weekend!”
Yn, sensing the attention, pointed her little finger at Lando. “No,” she said firmly, still clinging to Charles. “Charlie’s best.”
Carlos wiped away a fake tear. “Ouch! Betrayed by someone so young.”
Fernando finally stepped forward, determined to reclaim his daughter. “Okay, okay, ya es suficiente, little one. Come back to Papá, alright?”
Yn hesitated, looking between her father and Charles, before giving her dad a quick look of mischief.
“No!” she squealed and snuggled closer to Charles, making him laugh as he hugged her back. “With Charlie!”
Fernando’s face was priceless — part horrified, part amused, and all exasperated. The other drivers were practically doubled over with laughter, watching Fernando’s meltdown unfold.
“Yn,” Fernando said in his best “dad” voice, “Charlie drives for Ferrari. Ferrari, Yn. Alonso girls do not cheer for Ferrari.”
She blinked, clearly not understanding a word he’d said, before patting Charles’s cheek lovingly. “Charlie’s nice.”
George Russell chuckled, giving Fernando a pat on the back. “Face it, Fernando. She’s got taste.”
Charles, now thoroughly enjoying himself, made a point to keep her entertained, bouncing her on his hip, whispering silly things that made her giggle uncontrollably. At one point, he looked over at Fernando with a wink. “Look, I’ll take good care of her, Fernando. She’s safe with me.”
Fernando rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile now, despite his reluctant acceptance. “If you so much as put one scratch on her, Charles…”
Charles gave a mock salute. “Understood, sir. Only the best for the Alonso princess.”
For the rest of the day, Yn stayed glued to Charles’s side, happily babbling about who knows what as he patiently listened, asking her questions and looking thoroughly invested. At one point, she tugged on his sleeve.
“Charlie,” she said, looking around before leaning close to his ear, her voice a loud whisper, “don’t tell Papá, but I like red.”
Charles chuckled, glancing over at Fernando, who was watching the two of them suspiciously from across the room. “Our little secret,” he whispered back.
By the end of the day, Yn was dozing off, still in Charles’s arms, her tiny fingers clinging to the front of his suit. Charles carried her back to Fernando, who shook his head, finally resigned.
“Alright, fine,” Fernando said, reaching out to take his daughter. “But just remember, Yn, Papá is still your number one fan, okay?”
Yn blinked sleepily and gave him a nod. “Number one,” she mumbled, and Fernando’s heart melted a bit.
But just as he thought he’d won, she gave Charles one last sleepy grin. “Charlie, you’re number two.”
Fernando groaned, and the whole paddock dissolved into laughter as Charles gave her a final cheeky kiss on the cheek.
kink-o-ween '24 - master-list
welcome to kink-o-ween 2024! this is the master-list for every fic that is being posted for this little event. it is on par with kinktober, but with my own bunny spin on it! this will be updated daily until the end of the month and will contain every kink-o-ween fic that it being posted!
please read the tags on the post before reading!
alexander albon - virginity
max verstappen & charles leclerc - threesome
lance stroll - toys
daniel riccicardo - cockwarming
logan sargeant - shower sex
charles leclerc - pet play
lando norris - lingerie
sergio perez - hate sex
fernando alonso - semi-public sex
oscar piastri - breeding kink
toto wolff - daddy kink
max verstappen - rivals
lewis hamilton - free use
lando norris - collars/leashes
logan sargeant - praise kink
max verstappen - dom/sub dynamics
alexander albon - wet dreams
carlos sainz jr. - roleplay
lando norris - size kink
lance stroll - brat
toto wolff - degradation kink
george russell - mirror sex
max verstappen - filming/recording
carlos sainz jr - slutty behavior
lando norris - mafia au
oscar piastri - temperature play
toto wolff - power dynamics
fernando alonso - alternate universe (ceo au)
daniel ricciardo - uniform kink
lewis hamilton - non penetrative sex
toto wolff - monsters au
thank you to the love and support of my fandom friends & fans of the blog. i hope that you love what i create and you have a happy halloween <3
Need Saving
Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.
Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino
Part 2 - Part 3 Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!
Word count: 10.8k
You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.
This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.
Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.
This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing
Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.
Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.
Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.
From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.
Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.
You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.
This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.
During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.
It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.
You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.
These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.
The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.
It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.
Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.
He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.
His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.
Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.
You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.
"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.
The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.
"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.
As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.
The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.
Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.
With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.
"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.
The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.
You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.
"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.
You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.
"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.
You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.
"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.
As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.
You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.
"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.
The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.
It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.
You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.
As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.
He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.
Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.
As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.
It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.
The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.
You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.
You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.
The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.
As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.
He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.
Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.
You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.
“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.
“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.
You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.
As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.
You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.
Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.
It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.
The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.
There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.
Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.
“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.
You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”
The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.
You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.
As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.
As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.
The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.
Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.
Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.
“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.
The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.
Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.
“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”
You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.
It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.
And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.
“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”
He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”
The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.
“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”
But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.
His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.
You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.
“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”
You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.
But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.
“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”
His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.
As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.
"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.
You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.
With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.
"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.
Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.
"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"
You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."
A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."
You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."
"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."
You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."
As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.
You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.
"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.
You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.
After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.
The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.
He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.
You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.
As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.
Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.
“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.
He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.
He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”
You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”
But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.
Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?
With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.
As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.
Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.
While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.
“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.
You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.
Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.
It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.
You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.
Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”
His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.
When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.
The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.
A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.
Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.
You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.
Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.
They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.
Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.
Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.
You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.
Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.
You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.
As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.
You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.
Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.
You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.
“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.
“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.
With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”
You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.
You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.
The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.
You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.
Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.
The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.
You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.
As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.
You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.
The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.
As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.
A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.
Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.
You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"
The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"
You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.
The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"
As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .
As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."
The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.
You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.
The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.
"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.
The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.
After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.
The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.
"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.
Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.
In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.
"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.
As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.
"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.
Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.
"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.
You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.
"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.
As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.
"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"
Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.
"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"
You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."
Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."
"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."
Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"
Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."
"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."
Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"
You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."
"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."
Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."
You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.
"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."
What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .
★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★
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You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.
You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.
You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.
Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.
As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.
You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.
“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.
“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”
You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.
“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”
You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”
The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"
"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.
It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.
You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."
His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.
"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.
"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"
This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.
You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .
The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.
You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.
The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.
You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.
Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.
One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.
"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.
You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.
"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"
The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.
"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."
Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.
But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.
That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.
The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.
As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.
“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.
Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.
“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”
You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”
You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.
You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.
Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.
In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.
“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.
“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.
The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.
It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.
You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.
He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.
You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.
“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.
As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.
"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"
His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.
As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.
"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.
"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.
The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.
Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .
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After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.
Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.
It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.
He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.
Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.
It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.
However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.
"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.
His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."
But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.
As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.
"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.
Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.
"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."
Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.
In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.
The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.
The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.
This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.
As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.
This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.
He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.
Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.
In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.
He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.
Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .
In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."
His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.
Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.
"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.
Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.
"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.
Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.
The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.
Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.
Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.
"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.
The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.
Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.
The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.
"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.
"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."
Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.
Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.
"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.
Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?
As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.
The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.
He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.
After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.
You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.
The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.
Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.
Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.
He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.
Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.
He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.
Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.
He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.
While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.
The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.
He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.
As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.
But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .
As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.
"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.
"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.
The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.
You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.
Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”
Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.
Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.
But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.
"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.
Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.
You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.
As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.
Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.
In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.
The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.
Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.
You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.
Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"
The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.
In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.
With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.
You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.
"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.
A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.
As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.
The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.
You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.
You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.
The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.
The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.
As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.
It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.
You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.
“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.
Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.
Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.
It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.
You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.
In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.
“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.
A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.
His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.
As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.
"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.
"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.
After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.
"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.
He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.
As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.
You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.
Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.
"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.
You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.
However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.
But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.
Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.
Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.
The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.
As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.
His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.
His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"
Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.
Panic surged through him.
This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.
Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.
The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.
"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.
In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.
“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.
But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.
“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.
Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.
Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.
"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."
With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.
“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”
Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.
“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.
With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.
ʚïɞ "i'm still here, ok?" MV33 texts au
⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more texting au! (LH44)
✧₊⁺ max verstappen x thalia philips (female!oc)
✧₊⁺ genre: hurt/confort, angst.
✧₊⁺ summary: when thalia still lets her dad hold control over her and belive she doesn't deserve max, he's bot left eith much to do.
✧₊⁺ warnings: daddy issues, abusive dad, non described violence, curse words, poor description of time, max softens up with time, vulnerable character, very long.
⠀⠀✧₊⁺ reblogs and feedback are always welcome! (:
⠀⠀✧₊⁺ reblogs and feedback are always welcome! (:
ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (:
ʚïɞ "the sweet life" FC43
↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more with williams racing!
✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x maria amelia rodriguez (female!oc)
✧₊⁺ word count: 1,9k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: fluff
summary: in witch franco and maria are finally living the good life and they know how to enjoy it.
warnings: just the sweetest couple ever, cursing, some pda/making out sessions, just sad i couldn't write all their dialogs in spanish but i kinda did get a bit carried away. characters celebrating minor things like we do. there's two languages written in this and none is my native language so take it easy, i tried my best. hope you like it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:
⠀
Maria watched as her boyfriend exited the blue car, trying to stay calm and remove her big headphones with ease. Her purse was left somewhere in the box, her focus was entirely on him. She looked around, trying to find any reason not to run to him.
But she couldn't resist. Just as he was about to take off his helmet, she sped up, a big smile spreading across her face as he opened his arms. It was like nothing else mattered.
"Vamos, bebéééé! P7!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Dios mío, I can't believe this is our life now!"
"It is, baby. Best believe." he laughed, lifting her off the ground and shaking her playfully.
"You're amazing! You're the greatest! Look at you!" Maria continued to praise him, back on the floor now and holding his face between her hands. "¡Te quiero muchísimo! ¡Muchísimo! I can't wait for the race tomorrow."
"Just imagine how I feel!" he said before pecking her lips, smudging it a little in their shared joke. They had so many of these.. "Te quiero mucho más, princesa. Thank you for being here."
They went way back. Back to middle school, when Franco would tear himself apart to keep everything together. Their love had only grown stronger with time. It survived the distance when he moved to Europe for his shot, until she turned sixteen and joined him two years later. All the homesickness and challenges they faced together only strengthened their bond.
Celebrating his win felt like celebrating her own, squeezing in between her college life. Everyone in the Williams box knew that having Franco meant having Maria; they were inseparable.
So it was no surprise when he carried her back inside the box, bouncing her around like she weighed nothing before dropping her on one of the couches.
"We're celebrating tonight, huh? Let me talk to the team, and we'll set it up." he said, giving her one last kiss before messing up her hair and turning away to celebrate with the team.
It had been too long since Williams dragged a car into P7, and if you asked Maria, she'd say only Franco could take it there. It was amazing to watch the team celebrate and fool around, before the excitement cooled down and they headed back to their accommodations. It was only a matter of time until the door was locked and Maria was in her boyfriend's arms, pressed between him and the wooden door.
"When you said celebrating..." her hands roamed over his torso, her words whispered against his lips with a little smirk.
"That's exactly what I meant," Franco smiled, his hands pinning her by the waist as he pulled her in for a real kiss.
Her hands slipped around his neck, fingers brushing against his skin and into his soft curls, while his hand moved gently to her cheek, sending shivers up her spine. The room was silent except for their shared breaths, the adrenaline from Q3 qualy still pumping. In the privacy of that small space, the kiss grew more heated, like they could become one at any moment. It was a kiss that spoke of celebration and the quiet comfort of knowing they belonged to each other, no words needed.
When he started to explore her covered skin, their breaths becoming more labored, Maria chuckled at how strong she was about to be, stopping him from pulling her Williams shirt away.
A whine and a frown from her boyfriend; she almost gave in.
"Bebé... You're racing tomorrow, you need to rest," she said, holding his chin softly as he leaned into her touch, resting his head on her hand. "Don't give me those eyes! I'm taking care of you!"
"I can't believe you're doing this to me," he sighed. "I mean... I can lay back and let you do all the work! I swear to God, Maria."
"No, mi amor. No way. You qualified P7 today, I can't let that go to waste. You're laying back and sleeping, sir. Let's go shower," she said, patting his chest and waiting for him to turn around so she could follow him.
"A quickie, then?"
"Franco, no!"
"Ese, try this one. I swear it's delicious," Franco approached Maria with a plate full of small dishes he'd gathered for them to taste.
"What is this? Is this a shrimp? You know I hate shrimp!" she dodged the food he held close to her mouth, Franco insisting as he got closer.
"Mi amoooor... It's delicious! There's bacon, you'll like it!"
"The things you make me do, Jesus Cristo." she rolled her eyes, closing them so she wouldn't see the shrimp going into her mouth.
"Tell me. Delicious, huh?" Franco looked at her expectantly, celebrating with a silent "yes!" once she made a surprised face. "See!? I told you! Now try this one, this one you'll like. It's sweet, something with chocolate. Hold it."
"You guys are funny."
"Ai, Alex! Don't do that!"
Albon laughed as he came across the room to grab some water, watching the couple while they focused on chewing. They were at the Williams accommodation in the paddock, with food and beverages served before the race and that is something they always knew exactly how to act around. Free food is free dood, no matter if you’re a teenager trying life in another continent or a good surprise in Formula One.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you guys were so distracted." the Thai driver said, still laughing. "Lily was asking me about you, and I didn't know the answers... How long have you guys been together?"
"Eight years and four months," Franco answered, taking his teammate by surprise.
"Eight years? Eight? Aren't you like... Twenty? You've been dating for eight years? You guys are married!" Alex almost spilled his water.
"She's twenty, I'm twenty-one," Franco began to explain. "We were thirteen when we first kissed and never let each other go. Take notes."
"Wow, wow! That's why you guys are so close! That’s crazy! It must be amazing growing up together like that."
"It is," Maria smiled. "Through the best and the worst. My best buddy." It was easy for them to declare their love, just as it was for her arms to wrap around his waist.
"Uh- tooth-rotting sweet. I hate you guys," Alex pretended to be annoyed. "And marriage? Do you guys think about it?"
"My girlfriend in white? Of course I do," Franco said, hugging her tightly. "I'm securing my seat, and then we'll think about it. She's also graduating, so... We've got time."
The truth is, they could spend a lifetime talking about their relationship, and Alex seemed genuinely interested. They talked about their plans for a modest house back home, a big backyard, and children. They were still young, enjoying the present while dreaming about the future. Alex found it amazing how excited they were for the next steps, yet so calm and happy living day by day, enjoying the small things like expensive food, big hotel rooms, fans screaming Franco's name, and the thrill of being recognized in the mall. Just sweet and pure, that’s what they are.
“¡Cállate la boca, Dios mío!”
Maria giggled beneath the fluffy blankets, pretending to still be asleep. Birthdays had always been a special kind of game between them, an unspoken contest to outdo each other with surprises. Was it a real competition? No. But it was theirs, a tradition that filled their lives with joy and spontaneity.
On Franco’s last birthday, she had convinced him she wouldn’t be able to make it. He was still racing in Formula Two then, fresh off the Monaco GP, only to have her show up at the motorhome with a cake in hand and a parade of drivers ready to celebrate his 21st.
Today, it was her turn. Half-awake, she assumed he might have rallied a few familiar faces; after all, back-to-back races left little time for elaborate plans. But the sleepy haze couldn’t explain why she heard voices speaking rapid Spanish in the next room.
“Bebé, I’m coming in. Hope you’re dressed.”
A small smile tugged at her lips as the door creaked open. Before she could process it, Franco walked in holding a cake, flanked by her mother and little brother, both bursting into song.
“¡Cumpleaños feliz, cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos todos, cumpleaños feliz!”
Her eyes welled with tears at the sight, lips trembling with emotion. “Alright, now you caught me off guard,” she laughed, voice thick. “Hola, mamá. ¡Vos extrañé tanto!” She hurried out of bed, pulling them into a hug so tight it almost toppled them over.
“Hey! ¿No me extrañabas, Pinón?” her brother joked, tugging her hair until she leaned down to wrap him in a proper embrace.
“Feliz cumple, hermanita. Te quiero mucho, y más ahora que estoy volando para los GPs.”
“Te quiero muchísimo también, Pinónzito. Gracias, Fran. No sabía que vendrían.” She turned to Franco, who stood there with a smile that matched the warmth in his eyes. Leaning in, she kissed him lightly. “Te quiero taaanto, mi amor. Gracias, de verdad.”
“El mínimo para ti,” he whispered with a grin, stealing another quick kiss. “Now, let’s cut this cake. We’ve got a full day ahead, and I’m starving.”
“Jesús,” Franco said, a hint of disbelief in his voice as he stepped behind Maria, her beach bag slung over his shoulder. They boarded the yacht, its polished deck gleaming under the sun.
“Did we peak in life, or…” he teased, eyes sweeping over the stunning seascape.
“We peaked life.” she said with a playful glint, spinning around and looping her arms over his shoulders. “And you know what? I wouldn’t want any of this without you.”
He looked at her, eyes roving her features like a map he knew by heart, hands resting comfortably at her waist. It was the kind of touch that spoke of familiarity and time.
“I think we’re here because it’s us. I wouldn’t do any of this without you,” he replied, a declaration wrapped in simplicity, the weight of his love implied in every word. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one, mi amor. You’re going places, and I’m the one who gets to stand by your side.”
They were both right. They’d grown together, woven into each other’s achievements, dreams, and futures. She was on the cusp of finishing law school, and he was rising higher in motorsport. It was their shared success — a partnership that went beyond love.
“If I’m going places, you’re going with me. Wherever we go.” His eyes held a brightness that felt almost tangible. “Te quiero, Maria. I really do.”
“Te quiero mucho,” she replied, eyes crinkling with emotion as they leaned in.
The yacht rocked gently beneath them as the sea stretched out infinitely. The sun, now lower on the horizon, turned the sky into a masterpiece of warm oranges and soft pinks. His dark hair caught the sea breeze, and her curls shimmered as they met, caught between the golden glow of day’s end and the promise of tomorrow.
They kissed, a connection steeped in years of love, laughter, whispered dreams, and shared victories. It spoke volumes of what they were — two parts of a whole, with an unbreakable bond.
In that perfect moment, surrounded by the sea’s vastness and the sky’s splendor, they had everything. The taste of salt on their lips, the warmth of each other’s touch, and the absolute certainty that home was here, in their embrace.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (:
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:.
Love at First Wink
Charles Leclerc x medical student!Reader
Summary: in which Charles can’t wink, you think he might be having a stroke, fans (and media) notice something strange, and your love story is immortalized through Reddit posts
r/NoStupidQuestions
u/LordPerceval · 16h
How do I learn to wink without looking like a weirdo?
Alright, so I’m 27M, and for some reason I’ve never really figured out how to wink without looking like I’m having some kind of muscle spasm or, I dunno, an awkward twitch. Like, I see people do it in movies or just casually, and it always looks so smooth and effortless. But when I try, either both of my eyes close (which, yeah, not a wink) or I just look like I’m really struggling.
It’s honestly starting to bug me because it would be nice to be able to wink in a fun way, like in a “just playing around” or “gotcha” kind of moment. But instead, I avoid it completely because I’m scared I’ll make things super weird or uncomfortable.
So, how does one go about learning how to wink properly? Is it just a practice thing? A facial muscle thing? Am I overthinking it? Any tips are appreciated, even if they seem basic. Thanks in advance!
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u/SmoothOperator · 15h
Ah, the ol’ wink struggle! Don’t worry, man, you’re not alone. First thing you gotta do is RELAX. If you’re overthinking it, your whole face gets tense and that’s what makes it look awkward. Try it in front of a mirror, and focus on just casually closing one eye without squinting or forcing it too much. It’s more about a light, quick gesture than a full-on eye close.
And yeah, it’s 100% a muscle thing, so if it feels weird, it’s probably because your face isn’t used to it yet. You’ll get there with some practice. Also, remember, winks aren’t meant to be perfect. They’re supposed to be playful and a little subtle. Don’t go for the exaggerated “movie star” wink, just keep it light!
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u/awkwardpenguin · 13h
I totally feel you on this. I’m 24F and still can’t wink without looking like a malfunctioning robot. I found it helped to practice with only one side of my face in the mirror first. Maybe try winking with your left eye only for a while, get that one down, and then see if the right side follows?
Also, don’t overthink it too much! Sometimes a half-bad wink can be charming if it’s done in the right moment. Shows you’re not taking yourself too seriously!
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u/TheRealMaverick · 12h
Dude, it’s just like learning to snap your fingers. Some people just get it, and some people gotta work on it. I couldn’t wink for years without looking like I had something in my eye. My advice: watch yourself in the mirror and do it slowly at first. Get the feel of which muscles you’re using. Start by squinting a bit with both eyes, then try to isolate one. Once you get it down slow, speed it up.
Also, fun fact: some people can only wink with one eye and not the other. So if your right eye’s just not cooperating, maybe you’re a left-eye winker!
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u/CouchPotatoSupreme · 10h
Haha, I went through this same struggle. My trick was to add a little smile to the wink. It somehow makes the whole thing look more natural and less like you’re trying too hard. Plus, smiling relaxes your face, so the wink looks smoother. Try it next time you practice!
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u/theeyeguy · 9h
It’s all about muscle memory, man. The more you do it, the more natural it feels. I recommend winking at random stuff when no one’s around — like your TV, the microwave, whatever. You’ll build up the muscle coordination without feeling weird about it. Eventually, your face will stop fighting you, and you’ll just be able to fire off a wink like a pro.
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u/ActuallySocrates · 7h
Are you maybe closing your eye too slowly? A lot of people mess up winking because they think it’s a slow, exaggerated thing. But the trick is to make it fast and subtle. You want it to be quick, almost like a blink but with only one eye. If you’re dragging it out, you’re probably straining the muscles too much, which makes it look awkward.
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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 6h
Honestly, just own it. I can’t wink either, but I found that the more I tried to force it, the worse it looked. So now, when I attempt to wink and it looks ridiculous, I just laugh it off and it becomes this goofy thing instead of a weird thing. Sometimes confidence is half the battle, even if you’re failing at winking.
Good luck, dude!
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***
r/WouldIBeTheAsshole
u/UnmedicatedStudent · 9h
WIBTA for telling a stranger I think he might be having a stroke?
So, this is a bit weird, but I’m a 24F med student (just started my clinical rotations), and I’m currently studying at this cafe. There’s this guy sitting at a table directly across from me, maybe mid-to-late 20s? And for the last 30 minutes or so, his left eye has been twitching a lot. At first, I thought it was just one of those random muscle twitches that we all get, but it’s been consistent. It’s actually kind of intense, and he keeps rubbing his face like it’s bothering him.
Here’s the thing: as a med student, I know that eye twitches can be totally benign, but I also know they can sometimes be signs of something more serious, like a stroke or some kind of nerve issue. I keep debating whether I should just casually go up to him and be like, “Hey, not to freak you out, but I’ve noticed your eye twitching for a while now. I’m a medical student, and you might want to get it checked out, just in case.”
BUT I’m also aware that I could come off as a complete weirdo. Like, maybe he’s just stressed or tired, and here I am, a random stranger diagnosing him in a public place. I don’t want to embarrass him or make him anxious over nothing, but I also feel like I’d be an AH if I don’t say something and there actually is a problem. What if it’s a mini-stroke or something and I just sit here doing nothing?
So, WIBTA if I go up to him and suggest he sees a doctor?
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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 8h
NTA. I think there’s a way to approach it without making him feel super uncomfortable. Maybe go with something like, “Hey, I’m a med student, and I’ve noticed your eye twitching. It’s probably nothing serious, but I just wanted to mention it because sometimes it can be a sign of something that should be checked out.” If you keep it casual and friendly, most people would probably appreciate the concern rather than be freaked out.
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u/ItsNotABug · 7h
Agreed. NTA. If it were me, I’d rather someone point it out than have it potentially be something serious and not know. It’s all about the way you frame it. I mean, worst-case scenario, he’ll just laugh it off and say he’s been staring at his laptop too long. But best case? You could be catching something early. Definitely worth a try.
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u/ChillZebra · 5h
Soft YTA if you approach it the wrong way. I can see how he might feel embarrassed or weirded out if a stranger suddenly tells him his eye is doing something abnormal, especially in a public setting. I’d probably feel a little awkward. BUT if you go in with tact and don’t sound too alarmist, you could be doing him a huge favor. Just keep the conversation light!
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u/Caffiend · 4h
As someone who deals with chronic eye twitches (thanks, stress and caffeine), I’d probably be more embarrassed than anything if someone approached me about it. That said, I’d still rather know if it could be something serious. Maybe wait until he’s leaving, so you don’t put him on the spot in front of a crowd, but I’d say go for it. You’re NTA.
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u/LizzyBizzy · 2h
NTA! I think people overestimate how much others will be embarrassed by stuff like this. You’re coming from a place of concern, and if you’re polite and kind about it, I doubt he’ll be offended. If he is, that’s more on him than you. You’d probably regret it more if you don’t say anything and keep wondering if you should’ve.
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u/AllergicToYourDrama · 1h
Honestly? YTA. Look, I get it, you’re a med student, and you’re probably hyper-aware of stuff like this. But coming up to a stranger and telling them their eye twitch might be a medical emergency is a good way to freak someone out. He’s probably just tired or stressed. I’m not saying you should ignore it, but there’s a fine line between concern and overstepping boundaries.
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u/UnmedicatedStudent (OP) · 52m
I was worried someone might say this 😅 I don’t want to seem like I’m stepping into “know-it-all med student” territory, but yeah, it’s hard to shut off that part of my brain sometimes. I know I could be totally overreacting, and it’s probably nothing … but part of me would feel guilty if I didn’t at least mention it. Thanks for the input!
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u/PeachyKeen · 59m
NTA. I think the key is to not come across like you’re diagnosing him. Just be casual about it, like, “Hey, I’ve noticed this, and it’s probably nothing, but just in case, I thought I’d mention it.” If I were in his shoes, I’d appreciate someone saying something, especially if it’s coming from a med student who might know more than me about what to look out for.
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u/TheRealDeal · 49m
NTA. He’s probably just had too much caffeine or is stressed, but it’s nice that you’re concerned. Worst case, he thinks you’re a little awkward, but hey, that’s better than potentially missing a serious medical issue. You can’t control how he’ll react, but you’re not an AH for caring.
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u/DefinitelyNotASurgeon · 43m
NTA, but definitely approach with caution. Maybe frame it as more of a “Hey, this might be nothing, but I’m a med student, so I tend to notice stuff like this …” That way, you’re not jumping straight to “I think you’re having a stroke” but still letting him know it might be worth getting checked out.
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u/ItsNotThatDeep · 39m
YTA for even thinking it’s a stroke, lol. Just kidding! Seriously though, NTA if you do it politely.
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***
r/NoStupidQuestions
u/LordPerceval · 8h
[UPDATE] Tried learning to wink — got mistaken for having a stroke. But hey, I got a date!
So, a few days ago, I made a post here asking for tips on how to wink without looking like a malfunctioning robot. Well, I took all your advice, and I’ve been practicing … a lot. Maybe too much.
Fast forward to today: I’m at a cafe, sitting alone, just trying to sneak in some subtle winks at my reflection in the window (you know, totally normal behavior). I’m really focusing on trying to get one eye to close without the rest of my face getting involved. After what must’ve been 20 minutes of this, I notice this woman a few tables over, kind of looking at me, but I figured she was just judging my weird wink practice session.
Next thing I know, she walks over, says, “Hey, I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m a med student, and I’ve been watching your eye twitch for a while … I think you might want to see a doctor in case you’re having a stroke.” 😳
I nearly died from embarrassment right there. I had to explain that I wasn’t having a stroke, I was just trying to learn how to wink. She laughed (thankfully) and admitted it was an honest mistake, given how badly my face was contorting.
But here’s the plot twist: she’s actually gorgeous and super funny. After a bit more chatting, she gave me her number, and we’ve got a date this weekend. So, while I still can’t wink without looking like I’m in serious medical distress, I somehow managed to score a date out of it. Silver linings, right?
Thanks to everyone who gave me advice! I may not have mastered the wink, but I think things worked out anyway 😂
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u/SmoothOperator · 7h
Dude, this is the best possible outcome from this situation. Not only did you not have a stroke, but you actually got a date from it? That’s a win. Don’t even bother learning how to wink anymore — you’ve already peaked.
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u/awkwardpenguin · 7h
I AM DYING. This is hilarious. Honestly, I think this proves that failing spectacularly can sometimes be the most charming thing in the world. Good luck on the date, and please don’t try winking at her during dinner 😅
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u/theeyeguy · 6h
LMAO. As someone who’s been mistaken for having a stroke because of stress-related eye twitching, I feel this deeply. But I’ve never gotten a date out of it. Well played, my man. Well played.
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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 5h
This might be the best “I tried to wink and failed” story I’ve ever heard. Seriously though, props to her for actually coming up and saying something. It could’ve been worse — imagine if she just stared, unsure if you were in the middle of a medical emergency.
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u/TheRealMaverick · 5h
The wink failed, but your awkward charm succeeded! Honestly, I think you should lean into this. Go to the date, don’t even bother trying to wink, and just tell her the story again. If she was into it the first time, she’s probably going to love it even more when it’s an inside joke between you two.
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u/CouchPotatoSupreme · 4h
Okay, but can we just take a moment to appreciate that she approached you because she was genuinely concerned? That’s the kind of girl you want in your corner. Also, now you have the perfect “how we met” story. Future wedding speech material, just saying 😉
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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 3h
I have secondhand embarrassment but also secondhand joy for you. Sometimes life is better than any awkward wink could ever be. Good luck on the date, and hey, maybe you don’t even need to master winking anymore if you’ve already won her over.
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u/WinkFailSurvivor · 2h
This whole thing is perfect. I, too, have struggled with the dreaded “failed wink,” but I never thought it would lead to a date. I think you’re onto something here … maybe awkward winking is the new dating strategy?
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u/ActuallySocrates · 2h
Wait … so, your face-twitching efforts actually led to a potential relationship? This might be the greatest accidental rom-com moment ever. Well done. Keep us updated on how the date goes, but for the love of all that is good, don’t wink at her again unless you’ve somehow mastered it in the meantime.
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u/MedStudentCrush · 1h
As a fellow med student, I know she was probably embarrassed too after realizing you weren’t having a medical crisis. But the fact that she still gave you her number means your sense of humor (or tragic winking) really worked. You’re NAILING it, man.
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***
r/WouldIBeTheAsshole
u/UnmedicatedStudent · 7h
[UPDATE] WIBTA for telling a stranger I thought he was having a stroke because of an eye twitch? Well, now we’re going on a date.
Hey everyone! So, a few days ago I made a post asking if I would be the AH for telling a guy I thought he was having a stroke because I saw his eye twitching for like half an hour at a cafe. I’m a med student and my brain just could not ignore it. I was really worried that I might embarrass him or make things awkward if it turned out to be nothing.
Well … update time.
I actually went up to him and casually asked if he was feeling okay because I noticed the twitching. Turns out, he wasn’t having a stroke (thank god), but what he was doing was practicing winking. I’ll let that sink in. He was practicing winking at his reflection. In a cafe. For half an hour 😂
We both started laughing, and honestly, I was super relieved it wasn’t a medical emergency because I was prepared to call an ambulance or something. He explained that he’d been trying to learn how to wink for a while but couldn’t get it down, and I guess I just caught him mid-“training session.”
Here’s the fun part: after we laughed it off, we ended up chatting for a while. He’s actually really sweet and has this kind of goofy charm. I gave him my number, and now we have a date lined up for this weekend 😳
So, not only did I not make him panic about his health, but I also apparently picked the right guy to (wrongly) diagnose. I’ll keep you all posted if it leads to anything, but for now, we’re both just laughing about the most awkward way to meet someone.
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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 7h
I AM DEAD 😂 You’re telling me you went over to check on a potential medical emergency, and it turned into a rom-com meet-cute? This is the best outcome possible. Can’t wait to hear how the date goes!
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u/SmoothOperator · 6h
As the guy who gave him advice on winking in his original post, I just want to say: I feel partly responsible for this love story. I’m so glad his tragic winking attempts paid off in the end, even if it wasn’t in the way he intended.
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u/awkwardpenguin · 6h
THIS IS AMAZING. I read both your posts and now I feel like I’m watching the awkward wink romance saga unfold in real-time. You’re officially in the running for the best “how we met” story of all time 😆 Good luck on the date, and please let us know if he tries winking at you (but maybe tell him to hold off for now, lol).
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u/LizzyBizzy · 5h
Honestly, this just proves that the best way to get a date is to pretend you’re having a medical emergency 😜 But seriously, I love how this turned out. Sounds like he’s a good sport, and you’re a hero for not freaking out. Hope the date goes well!
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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 4h
Okay, I’m following this story like a serialized drama. I just read his update about you thinking he was having a stroke, and this is all too perfect. You both sound like such good sports about the whole thing, and I’m crossing my fingers that this ends up being a great first date! I’d pay to watch this rom-com, tbh.
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u/ItsNotThatDeep · 4h
So you’re telling me this guy tried to learn how to wink, failed so hard at it that it almost got him medically evaluated, and then still managed to get a date out of it? This man is living on another level of charm 😂
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u/ActuallySocrates · 3h
If you two get married, the wedding speeches are going to be incredible. “I thought he was having a stroke, turns out he was just practicing winking.” I can’t stop laughing at how absurdly perfect this situation is. You might as well stop looking, you’ve found the one.
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u/DefinitelyNotASurgeon · 3h
This might be the greatest series of posts I’ve ever seen on Reddit. First, the guy’s terrible winking attempts, now your heroic intervention that turns into a date? I’m invested in this. Please, please update us after the date. I need closure on this modern love story.
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u/CaffeineAndAnxiety · 2h
I feel like this is a public service announcement for all med students: don’t assume every eye twitch is a stroke, sometimes the guy’s just trying to wink 😂 But seriously, this is adorable and you handled it perfectly. Hope your date goes well!
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u/NoGuyNoProblem · 1h
This is amazing. The fact that you were so ready to step in and save the day, only for it to turn into this hilarious and kind of romantic story, is just too good. I really hope he doesn’t try to wink at you during the date though — that might be a dealbreaker.
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u/ChronicFailSurvivor · 1h
OMG, I just read both your post and his, and this is now my favorite Reddit love story. Please let us know how the date goes. I kind of want to see him attempt another wink, just to see how bad it still is 😆
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***
r/formula1
u/tifositruther · 14h
Why does Charles Leclerc’s eye always twitch when he hugs his girlfriend after a podium finish?
Okay, this has been bugging me for a while, and I’m hoping someone here can explain it because I haven’t seen anyone talk about it (or I’ve just missed it).
Whenever Charles finishes in the top 3 and goes to hug his girlfriend along the barriers where the team stands, I’ve noticed that his eye does this weird twitching thing? It’s super subtle, but it’s like a half-blink or something with one eye. It’s definitely not him just being emotional or sweaty, because it happens EVERY time. At first, I thought it was just a one-off, but now I can’t unsee it.
Is it just me, or does anyone else see this too? Is it like a weird superstition or just some involuntary thing? I’m genuinely curious, and it’s getting harder to watch his post-race celebrations without focusing on his twitchy eye.
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u/FerrariBoi · 13h
Dude, I’ve noticed this too! I always thought it was just him being super emotional or tired after a race, but now that you mention it, it really is every time he goes to hug his girlfriend. Now I can’t stop wondering what’s up with it either 😅
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u/SmoothOperator55 · 12h
I’m not 100% sure, but I think it might be some kind of superstition or inside joke between him and his girlfriend? Charles is a pretty sentimental guy, so it wouldn’t surprise me if this is some sort of cute thing they do. Or maybe he’s trying to wink and it’s just … not working?
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u/FerrariFaithful · 10h
I can’t believe I’m reading this post because I thought I was the only one who noticed that! It’s like a half-wink, half-blink, and I’ve been trying to figure out if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s just nerves. Now I’m convinced there’s some weird Leclerc tradition we’re missing out on.
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u/NeedMoreDownforce · 9h
Honestly, I bet it’s just some post-race exhaustion thing. These guys are going flat out for nearly two hours, so I wouldn’t be surprised if his muscles just spasm a little bit after all that. But if it is some superstition, I want to know more because that would be hilarious.
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u/Charles4Prez · 6h
Oh man, I totally know what you’re talking about. I’ve noticed it every time he’s on the podium and it’s always when he hugs his girlfriend! If this is just him being tired, that would make sense, but it low-key feels like it’s some sort of wink. Either way, it’s oddly charming 😂
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u/GP2EnginePlease · 5h
LMAO, I’ve seen this too! I figured he was trying to wink but failing miserably at it because his face is always red and sweaty from the race. But if this is some kind of secret “thing” between him and his girlfriend, I’m here for it. F1 drivers and their quirks, man.
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u/Turn13Messiah · 4h
If this is a wink attempt, then Charles needs to work on his technique ASAP. But honestly, it’s probably some goofy little tradition they’ve got. Maybe he does it to signal something only they know, and we’re all just sitting here clueless 😂
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u/BoxBox · 3h
I actually love that this is a thing people are noticing. The man’s got the whole F1 world watching, but he’s still trying to pull off a wink at his girlfriend like a regular guy. If it’s a superstition, I fully support it. Leclerc always seems like the type to have little rituals.
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u/ZoomingAlong · 1h
I’ve never noticed this before, but now I need to go back and rewatch some podiums to see it for myself 😂 If it’s a wink, it’s not very good, but knowing Charles, it’s probably something personal and cute between them. Wouldn’t surprise me if it’s intentional!
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u/YellowFlagged · 53m
It has to be some sort of in-joke between him and his girlfriend. F1 drivers are superstitious, and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen drivers have quirky little habits. Maybe it’s his way of “winking” after a good race, but he’s just too drained to pull it off properly.
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u/MegaDRS · 46m
Guys, I just went back and watched some old races, and yep, it’s there 😂 I never noticed it before, but now I’m convinced this is an awkward wink. Charles probably thinks he’s being smooth, but we’re all seeing that twitch. I’m officially obsessed with this now.
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u/ILoveMonaco · 32m
Can someone please just ask him in an interview at this point? I need answers. If it’s some cute tradition between him and his girlfriend, I’ll be even more of a Charles fan than I already am.
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***
“Charles, did you know you’re going viral on social media?”
The question hits him in the middle of media day. Charles Leclerc blinks once, twice, and tilts his head. He’s sitting in the usual F1 press conference setup — microphones lined up, lights a little too bright, cameras flashing constantly —but this question isn’t the usual stuff about strategy or the upcoming race.
He shifts in his seat, the corners of his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “No, I … I didn’t know that.” He furrows his brows, clearly puzzled. “Why? What did I do this time?”
The reporter grins, clearly enjoying Charles’ confusion. “It’s not something you did during the race. It’s what happens after.”
Charles’ smile falters slightly, but his curiosity grows. “After? What do you mean?”
The reporter leans forward, resting his hands on his lap. “It’s your eye. You’ve been going viral for this thing your eye does after you finish on the podium. People are calling it ‘the Charles Leclerc twitch.’”
Charles’ face drops for a split second before he laughs, the sound awkward, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve seen some things about it.”
“You have?” The reporter raises an eyebrow, surprised. “People are saying it’s because you’re tired or emotional after races.”
Charles scratches his head, feeling the blush creep up his neck. “No, no … it’s not that.”
“What is it then? Do you even know you’re doing it?”
Charles is biting his lip now, looking down at the mic in front of him like it might save him. He doesn’t want to explain this, not here, not now, but the entire press room is silent, waiting for his response. He glances up and spots you standing at the back of the room, arms crossed, a small smile playing on your lips. You’ve definitely overheard the whole thing.
With a sigh, he finally says, “Okay, well … it’s not really a twitch. I’m actually, uh …” He rubs his palms on his thighs nervously. “I’m trying to wink.”
Laughter ripples through the room, but the reporter’s face lights up, not letting this go. “Wink? At who?”
Charles’ blush deepens, and he chuckles, glancing down again before meeting the reporter’s eyes. “At my girlfriend. After I finish on the podium.”
There’s a collective murmur of interest now, and Charles is laughing, embarrassed. He shifts his weight in the chair, clearly flustered.
“Wait, you’re winking at your girlfriend?” Another reporter chimes in, curious but amused. “Why after the podium?”
Charles glances back at you standing at the rear of the room. You smile at him, and he seems to relax, even though his ears are definitely burning red. He lets out another small laugh. “Okay, so this is kind of … a long story.”
The room leans in.
“It started a few months ago,” Charles begins, exhaling as if trying to gather the words. “I was sitting in a cafe, practicing how to wink-”
“Practicing?” The first reporter cuts in, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, practicing. I’ve never been good at it.” He laughs, but it’s clear he’s a little embarrassed about admitting this in front of a full room. “And while I was doing it, she-” he nods toward you, “comes up to me and asks if I’m okay. She’s a medical student, and apparently, my attempt at winking looked so bad that she thought I was having a stroke.”
The room bursts into laughter, and even Charles can’t help but crack up at the absurdity of the story. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at you again, his eyes softening. “Yeah, so she came over, all serious, genuinely concerned about me.”
You can’t help but laugh along with the reporters. You catch Charles’ eye, and he gives you a small, sheepish smile. The reporters are now fully invested, waiting for him to continue.
“So, I had to explain to her that I was just trying to figure out how to wink,” Charles continues, the redness in his face only deepening. “It was embarrassing, but we ended up talking for a while after that. And, uh … long story short, I got her number, and now we’re together.”
“That’s … actually adorable,” one of the female reporters says, and Charles chuckles again.
“But the winking thing — it became kind of our little tradition,” he explains, sitting forward slightly. “After every podium, I try to wink at her when I go to hug her at the barriers. It’s a way for me to say, like, ’we made it’ or something. It’s just this thing we’ve kept going.”
The room is silent for a moment, absorbing the story, before the questions start coming in again.
“So wait,” one of the reporters asks, his grin wide, “you’re telling me that this whole viral thing is because you’re trying to wink at your girlfriend after every race?”
Charles nods, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, but apparently I’m still really bad at it.”
“You don’t say,” someone mutters, and more laughter breaks out.
“And she knows this is a thing?” Another asks, glancing toward you.
Charles’ eyes are on you again. “Yeah, she knows. She tries not to laugh every time I do it. But, you know, we’ve kept it going. It’s like a small inside joke between us.”
The first reporter raises his hand again. “Do you think you’ll ever actually learn how to wink properly?”
Charles grins, shaking his head. “Probably not. I mean, I’ve had months to practice, and this is the best I’ve got.”
The press room breaks into chuckles, and Charles sits back, clearly more relaxed now that the story is out in the open. He takes a sip of water and glances up at the cameras.
“You got the girl,” the reporter adds with a grin.
“Yeah,” Charles agrees, looking at you with a warmth that softens his voice. “I got the girl.”
The room starts buzzing again, the other reporters already moving on to different questions about the upcoming race weekend, but Charles steals one last glance at you. You’re still smiling, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and he shoots you a quick wink — or well, tries to.
And of course, his eye twitches awkwardly, but this time, he doesn’t mind.
Not A Verstappen: A New World {9}
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Two more races closer to the end of the season and all that means is the competition is fiercer than ever and every point is a battle to win. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, assault, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten
Round Sixteen - Singapore GP
Charles was worried about you. You had barely said a word since the race ended, only congratulating your boyfriends on their great results. You were disappointed in yourself for finishing last place. Technically it was 15th place but everyone behind you had DNF’d so you were the last one to cross the finish line.
The bath did little to ease the tension embroiled in your body and you sank down beneath the surface. A wavering image of Charles filled your vision as he took a seat at the edge of the bathtub and trickled his fingers through the water. Only when your lungs began to burn did you resurface with a deep gasp for fresh air.
“You’re going to catch a cold, ma chérie,” Charles said softly as he wiped away the rivulets of water. It was almost like he knew they were mixed with your tears. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” you whispered. “I think I am just going to stay in tonight, I don’t want to hold you back from celebrating. You guys did great today.”
“You are being too hard on yourself. It sucks, Lando and I know that first hand,” he chuckled, referring back to the first half of the season. “But you’ll come back stronger, I know you. You’ll be back in the points next week.”
You smiled weakly at his confidence and accepted his hand that helped pull you from the bath. “Are you willing to bet on that?”
“D'accord,” he nodded, wrapping you tightly in a towel before kissing your forehead. “I have faith in you, mon amour.”
“That makes one of us,” you joked, feeling a little better now that you were wrapped in his arms. “You should get ready to go, Lando is going to need you to carry him home tonight.”
“Mon Dieu, him and Carlos drinking together,” Charles groaned as if just realising what he was in for. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
You nodded and stepped out of the bathroom to grab your phone. “I think there is another Verstappen somewhere around here feeling sorry for himself too, and misery loves company.”
Max arrived before Lando had finished styling his hair and he came bearing gifts, a bag of mouthwatering food packed full of local dishes in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other.
“Now it’s a pity party,” you laughed as he made himself comfortable in the living room. He didn’t even bother with plates, just eating straight out of the containers while he changed the channel off MTV. “Are you planning on sharing or do I need to order my own?”
“Depends if you care what Kristian thinks,” he shrugged, pushing a container aside. He grinned knowing you couldn’t turn down the grilled kebabs slathered in a sauce that would give your PT a heart attack. “Live dangerously, zusje.”
You snorted and dropped into the seat beside him, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and the dish from the coffee table. “I hate you.”
“Uh-huh, heard that before,” he teased as continued to flick through the channels until he hit the movies. “Fast X?”
“No,” Lando answered for you as he finally appeared from the bathroom with his hair perfectly styled and his shirt half unbuttoned. He explained that it was to combat the humidity in the country but you and Charles knew it was because he loved to flash his tanned and toned chest, almost as much as you liked to see it. “She’ll get pissed off that it is too unrealistic.”
“It is unrealistic,” you pointed out.
Max laughed, “It’s a movie.” But he still changed the channel. “Maverick? The original.”
“Sure,” Charles said with a grin as he pulled his shoes on, “if you want to comfort her when Goose dies.”
“You are impossible.” Max shook his head and tossed the remote on your lap. “You choose something.”
Ready to leave, Charles looked like he was going to ask you if you had changed your mind before thinking better of it. Instead he kissed you as innocently as he could manage with your brother sitting beside you. “Je t’aime.”
“Love you too, have fun.” You held your hand out to Lando and pulled him down to your height for a kiss too. “Not too much fun. I don’t want to wake up to any new CarLando rumours.”
He knew you were joking and he nipped your bottom lip for it before pulling away and holding his necklace up. “Holy trinity, baby: you, Charles and me.”
“That’s why you are missing your top three buttons,” Charles teased as he slung his arm over Lando’s shoulder. “All for the necklace and definitely not vanity.”
“Me? Vain? Never,” Lando scoffed. “I am humble, thank you very much.”
“Mhmm, so humble, mon cher,” Charles agreed sarcastically as he led them to the door before blowing you one final kiss. “Bonne nuit.”
Round Seventeen - Japan GP
Lawrence wanted to speak to you after the race finished and you hoped it was because he had some answers as to why the car was struggling. The upgrades seemed to make it worse and it was a hell of a push just to get back in the points, but you had made it like Charles assured you would.
Walking into Lance’s side of the garage, you assumed his father would be nearby. What you didn’t account for was Lance storming through the engineers after his DNF. It was a moment of wrong place at the wrong time that put you into his path and you felt the need to at least say something to him.
“Sorry, man, that was a rough one.” Hindsight was a real charmer as his green eyes narrowed with rage and you were shoved to the floor. Your ass met the hard concrete and the garage fell silent as they witnessed the attack.
Your shoulders ached where he had pushed you, but your butt would surely have bruises come morning. Calmly, you swallowed down the pain as the cameras waited for your reaction and you rose to your feet. You wiped the dust from your backside and looked at Lance. “At least I know how you injured your wrists, you’re a real fucking wanker.”
Word spread like wildfire as the footage was shared around the paddock and the world and your call to the Stewards came before Lando finished his podium celebration, the first you hadn’t been there to witness. It only added to your sour mood as you stepped into the meeting room and found an empty chair opposite Lawrence and Lance. You were by no means alone but everyone who had been asked to come as witness were all on Lawrences bank roll so you might as well have been.
The tedious hearing details were read by the Stewards, along with footage that showed the push that put you on your ass. They turned to Lance first, asking for his take on the event and whispered with his father before sitting back.
“It was an accident, I didn’t see her there.”
You scoffed under your breath but caught the look Lawrence sent you as the Steward asked you the same question. It was a look that everyone had warned you about. It was the look that drew the line in the sand of who had his support, and why wouldn’t he take his son’s side - he was a father first and a principal second. It was a look that said you would be finding another team next year if you weren’t careful.
Looking down at your hands the words tasted like ash. “Like Lance said, it was an accident.”
The steward nodded and typed some notes on his laptop. “Then the matter is settled, you will be fined €20,000.00 for unsportsmanlike behaviour.”
You lunged out of your seat and slammed your hands on the table at the ruling. “For what!”
“You saw the same evidence as I did,” he said, ignoring your outburst. “You clearly called Mr Stroll, Lance, a ‘fucking wanker’ on live tv. If that is all, we have another review about to begin.”
You left the room to see Bottas and Sargeant waiting with their team representatives and kept your head low as you passed by, feeling their curious eyes following. Lawrence kept pace with you as you left the building, Lance lagging somewhere behind, and you debated breaking into a sprint to see if the old man could keep up.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said, nearly making you trip over in surprise.
“Thank you?” you growled as you turned on him. “I saved your toddler’s career, you can do better than a fucking ‘thank you’.”
“Lance is struggling and it’s affecting him badly, but that’s no excuse for how he treated you.” Lawrence placed a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off as you remembered the look in the meeting room. You may both be wearing the same colours but you were not on the same team.
“You can still be a good father and not protect him from everything. In fact, it might just do him a lot of good in getting his head out of his ass. Now, I am going to go and take an ice bath and you are going to pay my fine. If there’s a bonus in my bank account when I get back to the hotel, we’ll call it even.”
You left without giving him the time to respond and jogged back to hospitality, an unfortunately long distance from the FIA building. Some of the teams were already starting to pack their motorhomes down but Aston Martin was still lively, even more so when you stepped inside and saw Charles, Lando and Max looking tense amongst a group of Lance’s friends that travelled with him .
“Woah, stand down, killers,” you teased with a flippant attitude you didn’t feel. “Shouldn’t you take it out to the parking lot?”
“Too many witnesses,” Max muttered.
“I was joking, we can all relax. You three, my room. Now.” You pointed your finger to the stairs and waited for them to start walking before you followed, glaring at the rest of them. “Don’t you have more important things to do, like I don’t know, check Lance has warm milk in his sippy cup?”
“Little bitch.”
“Fils de pute, va te faire enculer!”
You blocked the stairs but Max had already grabbed Charles and held him back. “That’s an insult to his mother,” you said as the door opened and Lance arrived. “It’s not her fault her son is a sycophant, and here’s his sugar daddy now. Tighten the leash on your little friends, Lance. It’s the least you can do since you owe me.”
His lips twisted into a grimace at the reminder but he jutted his head to the other end of the motorhome and his friends followed him, their disappointment palpable. You could only imagine what he had been telling them in private to create that sort of reaction and realised why the driver had gone through so many teammates on the grid. He was insufferable.
You gently pushed on Charles’ arm when he didn’t move, he was intently watching the group leave and the staff return back to their jobs as if nothing happened. “Come on, babe, let’s just get my stuff and go home.”
“Since when are you the rational one?” Max asked as he led the way with Lando and left you to hook your arm with Charles and follow.
“Maybe I’m finally maturing.” you said with a grin that finally had the tension lifting as they all started to laugh. “Rude.”
Click here for the next part.
Thinking about a kimi x fem! Driver! Reader who is basically the female version of Sebastian, where the fic is kimi and the reader doing a challenge for Ferraris channel, the reader being a bit of a know it all, and kimi just not caring
You can choose if it’s romantic or platonic:) thank you!
FERRARI AND CHINESE FOOD
pairing: (kimi raikkonen x ferrari driver! reader)
summary: ferrari has a sunshine driver and an iceman driver partake in a challenge for their youtube channel. thankfully, the sun can melt ice.
note: its 1am sorry i have no comprehensive thoughts this is a bit bad but have it anyways i am proud i made this with less than 5 hours of sleep. okay enjoy anon!!!!
content warning: my grammar at 1am
“Another one,” Kimi groans, throwing himself onto the couch in his room.
“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” you say with a grin, closing the door behind the both of you so no one could come in. You’re sure if Kimi had to talk to another person from the media he might explode. “Besides, this next one is the last one for today.”
“For today,” he emphasizes, groaning into a throw pillow once more. You’d both been doing media duties for Ferrari all day, and while it was tiring, you would say some of them had been fun and enjoyable. Although, evidently not for your teammate.
“Cheer up Kimi, it’ll be over soon,” you smile, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was laying down. You sigh, knowing the one thing that would get him to cooperate. “Dinner will be on me after.”
That grabs his attention, slightly pulling himself up and looking at you. “You mean that?”
“God you’re like a child I have to bribe,” you tease, yet with no malice. “Yes, I mean that.” You loved spending time with Kimi, and whenever there were media duties you both always had food afterwards. It was like a reward of sorts.
“Where d’ya wanna go?” Kimi mumbles, laying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. He was staring straight at you, waiting for a response. You think he looked pretty like this.
Smiling at him, you take your hand and run it through his hair softly, unable to help yourself. You would never normally do this, but you barely got moments alone during media week. Kimi grumbles but doesn’t stop you, you knew he always secretly liked it. “I dunno, what’re you up for?”
“Mmm…” he nuzzles into your hand a bit more, “Maybe chinese. I would enjoy some dumplings right now.”
“We can get Chinese then.”
Before you could have another moment of peace, however, a PR agent walked in the room to remind you that your next shoot was in ten minutes. You quickly pulled your hand away and Kimi sat up hastily, trying to fix up his hair. You give the agent an awkward thumbs up, hoping he got the message to leave.
“Okay, you’re right, this incessant filming is a bit tiring,” you say the second the door closes.
“Told you,” he simply replies. You pout in return, slumping your form beside him. He thought you looked so cute like this. Holding your cheek, he kisses your forehead, your nose, then your mouth, making you scrunch up your face. He chuckles, at least he made you feel a bit better.
“I should probably get ready for the shoot. You good here?” You ask, getting up from the couch. Kimi hums a yes, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kimi, but you will have to let go of my hand so I can get to my room.”
He looks at you with puppy eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go, deciding to lay back down on the couch.
“You’re not gonna get ready?”
Kimi shakes his head, eyes already closed ready for a five minute nap. You scoff softly at him, before heading for the door. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he mumbles. Kimi was not a man of many words by any means, but he would always utter those back to you. Smiling to yourself, you shut the door and get ready for the shoot.
“So this is how the challenge goes: you have to compete with each other on who knows your fellow drivers and each other the best, and of course, most points win. You’ll write your answers on a whiteboard so there’ll be no cheating.” The interviewer behind the camera explains. You nod, giving her a signal that you were ready for them to start filming. Kimi sat beside you on a couch, his face not showing any emotions whatsoever. Looks like you would be doing the heavy lifting on this shoot today.
They snap the check in front of the camera, and the interviewer asks the first question. “Starting with something simple, who on the grid has the most wins?”
“Oh, easy.” you mumble, writing your answer down on your board. Kimi wrote his answer in silence, not talking even when he finished.
“Done?”
You nod, both you and Kimi showing your boards. Lewis Hamilton.
“Easy enough, next question! Who was Y/N’s idol growing up?”
“Aha! You should know this, I told you about it before!” you exclaim, poking Kimi. He grunts, “Not fair, she knows her own idol of course.”
“Sorry, the question wasn’t finished. For Y/N, who was Kimi's idol growing up?” The girl adds.
Oh. Your smile drops as you look to the man beside you who, for the first time in any of the shoots you did today, showed emotion by grinning wickedly at you. “You should get this, I told you about it before,” he teases, echoing your own words. You think for a second before writing down a guess of an answer.
“Time’s up! Can you both please show your boards.”
You reveal yours first, the words Ayrton Senna scribbled down on it. Looking at the man beside you for confirmation, he shakes his head.
“Awh no way! Who’s your idol then?”
Kimi shrugs his shoulders, not answering your question. He didn’t even give Ferrari an answer for that one. He looks at his own empty board for a second before jotting down an answer he’s sure is wrong, but he’s also sure as hell is funny.
Turning his board around, you see Kimi Raikkonen written down with a smiley face beside it. You snigger loudly before replying, “Sure it is bud. In your dreams, maybe.”
“Unfortunately, that is incorrect, Kimi.” The interviewer calls out.
“Go figure,” he mumbles wryly, making you grin even wider.
“No, his answer is correct.” You joke, trying to tease him even more. He gives you a look but you simply keep your sly grin. He decides to drop it, after all he at least made you smile. That in itself deserves a point.
The questions went on for a while, before they got to the harder ones. “Okay, amping it up a notch, who won the 1985 World Championship?”
“Woah, that escalated quickly,” you exclaim, pausing to think for a second.
So far the score was 4-1 for you and Kimi respectively, as he really wasn’t trying at all. You’re pretty sure he could’ve gotten the question about what year Fernando Alonso came into F1 right if he cared. Jotting your answer down to the current question, you see Kimi from your peripheral vision trying to take a peek of your board.
“Hey!” you smack him lightly with your board, “Cheater.”
He smirks, trying to block your second hit. “Wasn’t cheating.”
You continue writing your answer but this time hiding it from Kimi, keeping it as close to your chest as possible. He looks at you for a second as if planning something before going back to write on his own board. Well– he pretends to write something, but you can see him just drawing a star in the corner of his board.
“What’re you planning?” You mumble. Kimi simply shrugs his shoulders, but you can see the slight grin playing on his lips. Locking in your answer, you feel the couch shift slightly to your left. Kimi inched a little closer without you sensing it. He notices your side eye and realizes it’s now or never, and tries to tackle you to see your board.
You shriek, attempting to hide your board from him by sliding down the sofa, to no avail. Your reaction was too slow and he was already on your side of the couch. You were giggling helplessly at this point, unable to contain your joy. Opening your eyes that you didn’t notice you closed, you’re met with a large smile, your teammate proud of himself.
“Get off of me Raikkonen!” You exclaim, using his last name for emphasis. You try to shove him off but he stays solid slightly on top of you, still pretending to try and take a peek of your board. You knew he didn’t give a damn about those answers anymore.
“Say please,” he mutters, still smirking. You truly didn’t know what had gotten into him.
“Please get off of me, you bastard.”
In truth Kimi didn’t want to, he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up under him with a laugh. He had forgotten about the cameras a long time ago– they weren’t important to him. He just liked seeing you smile. Still, he knew the faster they finished this challenge the faster he could get some alone time with you.
He finally concedes and moves back to his spot on the couch, fixing his hair and going back to writing his answer as if nothing happened. You sit up straight, fix your shirt, and do the same. The crew looked confused, feeling like they saw something that they shouldn’t have. You didn’t care, though. If anyone asked you would just say what you always did, that physical touch was your love language with friends. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, except for the fact that Kimi wasn’t just a friend.
The interviewer clears her throat before speaking up again, “Okay– uh– answers?”
“Prost, of course.” You answer with a smile. You loved studying the history of Formula One. Even though you couldn’t see, Kimi gave you the softest look he has in a while. He loved how you genuinely lit up whenever something you liked came up.
“And you, Kimi?” The interviewer asks, making the man snap out of his moment of adoration.
Kimi flips his board, a Lewis Hamilton written on it. The interviewer shakes her head but continues, “I’m sure that’s a gag answer b—”
“Is it?” Kimi butts in.
“I’m sorry?”
“Is it a gag answer?”
You shove Kimi softly on his side, “Don’t mess with her like that!”
He chuckles, before raising his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”
The rest of the game moves pretty quick, save for a quick argument between you and Kimi on what Sebastian’s favorite track was. As you both leave the set, you give Kimi a sneaky grin. “Bold move earlier.”
“Hmm?”
“Doing all that tackling in front of the camera. I thought you were the one who said we should be discreet. You definitely gave Ferrari a lot of bonus content. I’m sure they’ll cut it out though.”
“Ehh,” Kimi shrugs, not replying for a good while as you both walk out the Ferrari building and out into the night streets. You knew he was trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. It was part of the reason why he didn’t like talking so much.
Once outside he wraps his arms around you, a sign that he was finally back in the present and ready to talk. “I just wanted people to know, you know?”
“Know what? That you have a quarterback tackle?”
He chuckles at the recent memory before replying, “No, that I love you.”
You blush, hoping Kimi didn’t see it. He did. You carry on your conversation, “And how exactly did you plan to convey that message when they don’t even know we’re in a relationship?”
“Hey, Sebastian knows.” He argues.
“Seb hardly counts, he practically forced his way into figuring it out.”
Kimi shakes his head, his arms still around you. “And he walked into a room at the wrong time.”
His comment makes you laugh, a soft smile on your face as you turn to face him. “I love you, you know that?”
“Mhm. Love you too. Even if I don’t say it much.”
Your grin grows even larger, leaning up to kiss him. “You don’t have to say, I know.” He kissed you back, and he could feel your smile as he did. He thinks it’s crazy that he’s hidden such a blessing from the world. How you ever loved someone like him, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.
Pulling away, he gives you a smile that only you get to see. The softest in the world, looking at you as if you were the world. He breaks eye contact to hold your hand, headed towards the chinese restaurant down the road. “Okay, now dumplings.”
WHAT FRANCO VIDEO??!?
he posted this and deleted it immediately
Films of Anger
part 2
sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader
summary: brocedes 2.0 basically. childhood best friend's fight on track turns into a fight in real life
warning: light angst with a bit of fluff sprinkled in xD
"Papa, let me go!" Michael Schumacher's arms around you were the only thing that stopped you from attacking Sebastian right now. You fought against the stone grip around your body, trying to reach for Sebastian, who was held back by Kimi, though he wasn't exactly fighting much against the Fin's grip.
Michael moved his head down so it was leveled with your own. "You have to calm down." His usually soft voice when he spoke to you, was stoic. You were scared to look at him after hearing it so close to you.
"He almost killed me!" You insisted, voice firey as you stared Sebastian down. Your statement was followed by aggressive shouting from both you and Sebastian, catching the attention from all around. Although most of the people couldn't understand the angry german words leaving either of your lips, the tone spoke more than words could.
"If you drove properly, neither of us would have DNF'd." Sebastian shouted. Once again you started to fight your fathers iron grip, trying to fight Sebastian. You heard your father huff, and felt your feet leave the ground as the man behind you lifted you up in the air, to carry you off.
"Papa!" You shouted, wiggling your body. "Let me down!"
"I let you down if you promise not to try and beat up Sebastian and come and talk to me." He announced carrying you around the paddock. The more distance he brought between you and Sebastain, the more embarrassment started to fill you after noticing the many judging looks people threw at you. Cameras were locked onto the two of you, filming the whole ordeal.
"I promise. I swear, we can talk, just please let me down." You said quickly. Michael nodded and let you down, his hands though stayed put on your shoulders to make sure that you won't run off.
"Do you want me to grap your mother?" Michael asked, looking down at you, but you just shook your head. You didn't want to see the disappointing look in her eyes, knowing that she probably saw the whole scene live on TV in the garage. "No." "
Alright." Michael nodded, one arm thrown around your shoulders, the other gripping the other. Silently he led you through the paddock. You kept your head down, still feeling eyes and cameras set on you, trying to get a look at your face. Your father threw each and everyone a look that silenced them without doubt.
He was well aware of the stupidity of the situation you and Sebastian acted upon, but he didn't think that it was anybody's business to know what truly went on.
When you passed the garages you frowned, thinking that Michael was gonna drag you into a silent corner of the Ferrari or Mercedes garage, but your journey went on towards the motor homes. Pushing into the Ferrari Motor home, you went through the halls up to your drivers room.
When the door closed your shoulders dropped, sluggish you moved to the couch, throwing yourself onto the cushions. You felt your father's presence standing by the door and without a look, you knew what he looked like. Like waves, the questions rolled off of him.
Trying to waste time before you had to speak, you opened your driving suit to let your body cool down from the heated situation.
"What happend?" His voice broke the tension. You thought you were prepared for anger in his voice, but all you heard was sympathy, and that broke you. Tears filled your eyes, while you tries to keep it together you looked up through swimming sight. Your voice was on the verge of breaking as you spoke.
"I messed up, Papa." Michael sighed at the sight of you. He wanted to be angry, but how could he when you looked so broken. He shook his head, moving to sit next to you and pull you in his arms.
"What happened?" He asked again head on top of your own. You had your head pressed against his chest, breathing heavily.
"I think I broke our friendship off." You muttered thinking about what happened just after the race.
__
1996
The first time you met Sebastian was when your were seven years old. He was nine and just won a race. Your father was the one handing out the trophies.
You weren't old enough to drive in the same league as Sebastian yet, but you were always tagging alongside your father when it came to anything racing related. It was your thing. Papa and Y/N's thing.
Racing was what connected you. The hours you spent in your garage building on your kart alongside your father. Nothing brought you more contentment than that.
It was lunch time when you were standing by a concession stand waiting for your food, when little Sebastian approached to order his own.
"What did you get?" He asked noticing your wide eyes looking up at the counter, waiting impatiently on your food. When the little blonde boy spoke, you looked over. An adorable smile graced his face when he noticed your wide eyes.
"Currywurst. For me and my Papa." You had announced to him, giving a toothy grin. Sebastian nodded excitedly.
"It's his favourite." You added whispering as if it was the most important secret. Sebastian laughed leaning over to you to answer in the same hushed voice. "It's my favourite as well."
Giggling filled the air around the two of you.
"I just saw you race." You told him after the giggles stopped. "I think you were really good, and so did my Papa."
The blonde boy blushed lightly looking down at his shoes.
"Thank you."
"Did you race as well, or a sibling?" He asked but you shook your head. "I do race, but I'm not old enough to race with you. I'm here because my Papa was giving out the trophies."
Sebastian halted, his eyes were wide as he stared at you. You titled your head at him, although you were used to these types of reactions from people, it never seized to amaze you what kind of presence your fathers name had on people.
"Your father is Michael Schumacher?" Sebastian stuttered, making you nod. Humming you agreed with a bright smile. Pride swelling in your chest at the thought of your dad and his impression on the young boy in front of you.
"That is so cool." Sebastian exclaimed, jumping on the spot. You giggled at his excitement, listening on to Sebastian's words. "He's my hero. And one day, I'll be just like him."
That was your first of many meetings with the blonde haired boy you would call your best friend for many years. At one point you started karting together, slowly moving up the leagues until you both landed in formula one.
Sebastian had already been in formula one. Having moved from Toro Rosso to RedBull, when you finally joined formula one as well, signing your contract with Ferrari. The announcement didn't just make you beyond happy, but Sebastian and Michael as well. It was what you all had dreamed about, the three of you driving together in formula one. Sebastian and you driving alongside your childhood hero. Driving alongside your best friend and your father.
It was like a fairytale come to life. And even the hate and doubts from the outside world couldn't kill the joy you felt. It was all magical, until the inevitable had to happen.
It was always a fight on track. Even if you were friends beside it, on track everyone was your enemy. And especially when you were young and wanted to prove something, that could mean nothing less of reckless behaviour. Sebastian was a model example of exactly that. It was an one on one between the two of you.
You were leading, Sebastian wanted through. Obviously you didn't want that so you defended. And that was the moment when it all went down. You were coming out of a curve. Sebastain was on your right, overstearing, you still weren't sure if that was on purpose, but almost knocking you off the track.
Trying to keep your car steady, your front wing interlinked with his car. You both noticed too late what was happening, simultaneously trying to pull away from the others, and knocking you both out, while trying to get away from the other.
In your mind it was clearly Sebastian's fault for overstearing. In Sebastian's it was you for hitting his car trying to get back in track.
Michael sighed. He hadn't had time to watch the footage of what exactly happened, yet. All he knew was that the two of them had an accident and DNF'd no one told him what exactly happened. He was just on his way to rewatch the accident and to look for his kid to make sure she was alright when he came across the screaming match.
"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." He told you.
You shook your head against him, tightening your arms around the man. "That wasn't the bad part. I tried to talk to him after, but he was mad, Papa. Like proper mad."
__
When you were wheeled back into the garage, you couldn't stop tapping the wheel out of impatience. You were itching to give Sebastian a piece of your mind.
What in the world was he thinking, trying to push you off the track. Was he crazy?
When everything was good you stepped out of your car, took off your helmet and the HANS, before storming off. A few of the Ferrari mechanics tried to stop you, but you moved out of their way, before running off towards the RedBull garage.
It was the last lap, how could Sebastian be so stupid to risk it all at the last lap.
From afar you could see the grimace your friend had on his face as he spoke to his engineer. When he saw you, his brows furrowed and his face formed into a grimace, similar to the one you had.
"Sebastian, are you fucking crazy or what?!" You shouted in german fron afar as you approached the boy. The blonde looked at you angrily.
"Me? What were you thinking crashing right into me? This isn'tfucking bumper cars."
"Yes, exactly, it isn't." You agreed, stopping beside him right in front of the RedBull garage. "So why in the world did you think knocking me off track was a good idea?"
"Knocking you off track. Fucking hell, there was enough space a fucking hippo could have walked past." He hissed back, eyes filled with an angry fire. "It's your fault, you can't fucking drive. The only reason your even in formula one is because your father is fucking Michael Schumacher."
"Oh, let's be fucking real, Sebastian." You shouted. "You know that that is not the reason, I fought for my place, just like you did. And if you look at the listing you would see that I've got the numbers to prove it, because I am in front of you."
"Oh, piss of will you." He shouted back.
Neither of you noticed it, but your voices hot louder and angrier the more you spoke catching the attention of many bystanders and drivers getting back to the pits after finishing the race.
"If you think you're so much better then get on with it, will you. But I will prove to you that I am much better than you are, little rich kid"
You saw red at his indication. Of course you had the money, you knew your family was rich, but you told the boy often enough that you hated being reduced to simply that. That the thought of being reduced to only being a spoiled little kid was something you despised.
That was the moment you tried to leap at him, though Kimi Räikkönen pulled him back before you could get to him, while you felt your fathers arms around you.
As you told him exactly what happened you felt his arms tighten around you. You knew he was angry with Sebastian about talking to you like that, but he tried to hide it.
"Oh, Schatz." He mused strocking a hand over your hair. "I'm sure it is only half as bad. You both probably just need some time to cool off and the you speak again."
Michael was trying to be reassuring. Always the positive thinker, the joy bringer. He was always trying to see the best in people and he knew that Sebastian wasn't a bad person. He's known him since he was a little boy. Michael hoped that it really was all just because of the heat of the moment. Even if the words spoken were cruel in nature, he hoped that they had not broken your friendship, which had gone through so much already.
"It's gonna be alright, Maus." He muttered into your hair.