#charles leclerc x fem!driver

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 8

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader ex!max verstappen x reader

Warnings: more cursing than usual

A/N: I’m fast asf boi (not really, this did take a while)

Masterlist

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[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie has a baby

"wait a second," max blinks, hands in the air to stop the conversation from going any further than it could. the rest of the guys quiet down and slowly turn to him. "are we just going to glaze over the fact that she said she's bringing a baby to the paddocks tomorrow?"

lando furrows his eyebrows. "surely, she's not talking about an actual baby, right?" he looks around for approval. "i just assumed she was talking about a... partner... boyfriend, perhaps?"

mick shrugs, "i always just assumed she was talking about a grown person. she wouldn't bring an infant to the track."

"is no one even concerned that she's only turning 19 this year and you lot assume that she's got a baby?" alex asks, scowling at his friends as he scratches his head. "maybe she knows someone named baby?"

"she calls them 'my baby', though," mick points out as he presses his lips together. "it has to be a person, right?"

"who's betting what?" charles raises his eyebrows. "i think it's neither a partner nor an infant. a car she named baby, maybe."

max furrows his eyebrows, throwing charles a questioning stare. charles just shrugs before looking around the group to get their opinions as well.

"okay, i bet dinner that it's just a friend," alex says. "you're all going to be eating your shit when tomorrow comes."

lando shakes his head. "i still think it's a boyfriend."

"what if it's a girlfriend?"

"fine," lando scoffs, clenching his jaw as he glares at charles from the corner of his eyes, "then i think it's a partner. happy?"

mick scrunches his nose. "i am not participating in a bet about my teammate! and i've seen her car before – it's definitely not called baby."

"don't be such a party pooper," max frowns. "come on, mick, you have to have made some assumption about who or what this baby is. i still think it's an infant."

"she's 18!"

"potato, potato," max waves their concerns off. "so this is all for dinner, right? bet?"

"yeah, bet."

"mick!" she throws her arm into the air at the sight of the german entering the paddocks, waving him to approach her. "come here! i want you to meet baby!"

mick perks up, eyebrows shooting up that he's coincidentally the first face she's seen as their day starts. she's in the middle of a crowd, hands held out ahead of her as he approaches. as the crowd dissipates, he realises that she's got a stroller parked in front of her.

could it actually be an infant? oh, god, suddenly he's very concerned for her as a person in general. how could this have happened?

"this is baby!" she grins, unzipping its cover to reveal two ears and a brown sweater. "my cat!"

his blue eyes jump between the cat and the girl with a pink bow in her hair, unsure what to do with the revelation that baby is a cat. so who exactly is buying dinner tonight? "your cat? baby is a cat?"

"yes!" she beams, reaching down to scratch the feline's chin, who purrs and closes her eyes at the affection. "my dad got me baby two years ago when i finished in the top 10."

"wait," mick looks down at baby again, "is she wearing a louis vuitton sweater?"

"well, she's a sphynx," she frowns, fixing the sweater and pulling it down a little, "she gets cold sometimes." then she takes a step back with a grin, hands held out as she spins around. "and look! we match!"

"why are you spinning– oh, what's this?" lando grins, noticing the way they were conversing before he even passed through the gantry. "oh! what is that?"

"her cat," mick says through gritted teeth, eyes widening and hitting lando softly on the arm to urge him to just keep his opinions to himself. "baby. that's barbie's cat – baby."

"you named your c-" lando scowls softly, dropping his head low as the girl stops spinning. he turns to mick to hide his face away and blinks. "that's not a cat, mate. that's raw chicken."

mick simply shrugs in response. “i know.”

“she’s a sphynx! isn’t she cute?” the girl giggles, tapping lando on the shoulder. “and we’re matching clothes.”

lando stares at her. “this is baby… a cat? not even a person? not even an actual infant?”

she blinks at him. “infant? i’m 18.”

“what are you guys doing obstructing the paddock entrance and wh– hey, what’s this?” alex approaches with his hands grabbing the straps of his backpack.

“it’s baby,” lando grins, blinking hard at his friend. “a cat.”

“oh, how love– oh,” alex cuts himself off as he hunched over and looks into the carrier. he looks at lando and mick. “i imagined a more fluffy cat.”

“is that raw chicken wearing an lv sweater?” max pops up between mick and lando, furrowing his eyebrows.

“raw– she’s a cat,” she says again, pointing at baby with vindiction. “do you need to start wearing glasses?”

max grins with a small nod. he turns slightly to the men next to her. “why does her cat look something i’d find in the poultry section of the grocery store?”

“probably because it is part of the poultry section of the grocery store,” alex mutters, maintaining his grin to appease the young girl standing in front of them.

“oh, what a lovely looking cat!” charles beams, towering over the stroller wide eyed. “can i pet her?”

“yes! this is baby!” she shrieks excitedly, grabbing charles’s shoulder. she holds her arms out. “look — we’re matching clothes!”

charles’s eyes widen along with his smile. “oh! you have to get me some so i can match with you guys one day!”

“fun’s over,” max grumbles under his breath, waving his hands in the air to dismiss themselves. “i’ll see you and your chicken later.”

she furrows her eyebrows. “she’s a cat!”

— bonus

"a chicken?" oscar blinks, scowling slightly at the older men standing before him. "she has a pet chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick points out with a tired sigh and a roll of his eyes. he turns to max, "you can't keep calling baby a chicken. you'll upset barbie."

max throws his hands in the air. "you should have seen baby! that's not a cat!"

logan tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. "what's a sphynx cat?" he shrugs when he receives stares from them. "i'm not a cat person."

"those hairless cats," oscar explains. "have you got a picture of this said pet chicken?"

"pet chicken?" fernando had been walking by when he suddenly overhears something of a pet chicken which, in theory, is already such an absurd situation. he just has to know what is going on. "who has a pet chicken?"

"barbie."

he takes a step back. "that's some next-level rich people behaviour. not even lance owns a chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick corrects again, looking around to ensure that she's not around to hear the guys making fun of her choice of best friend in the form of a pet. "it doesn't even look like a raw chicken, mate, it's a grey cat."

oscar grins. "so raw chicken that's expired?"

"a sphynx cat!" fernando cheers with a soft clap. "how nice! but isn't that a bit..."

"could be worse, really," mick mutters. "she told me earlier she originally wanted a tiger."

"really? what pulled her away from wanting a tiger?" logan asks.

mick sighs. "she read up that it's not very conducive for wild animals to be domesticated. she does, however, contribute tons of money to wildlife charities monthly."

taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Early Risers vs. Night Owls

(A/N): Special thank yous to @foreveralbon and @disneyprincemuke for helping me choose which drivers are morning people and which are more of night owls.

Summary: Some people are night owls, others are morning people. But there is another sort that some drivers learn to fear: Morning Monsters (it's the reader)

Pairings: (All platonic) daniel ricciardo x driver!reader, charles leclerc x driver!reader, carlos sainz x driver!reader, oscar piastry x driver!reader (max and lando get a guest starring)

Word count: 1.2k

🏎Masterlist🏎

________________________

It’s difficult, being a night person in a day people’s world. It really is. Especially when you are around morning loving human beings.

“Oh, don’t you look happy?” Carlos comments, when (Y/N) steps into the breakfast room. Coincidentally, several teams are accommodated in the same hotel during this race weekend.

As she lets herself fall in a seat at his table, the young female whispers an annoyed “Don’t”. “I wasn’t saying anything mean?” He genuinely questions. Is his English failing him again?

“Please, just stop talking. It’s only the ass crack of dawn, how can someone be so chatty?” (Y/N) puts her head onto the table, effectively stopping any further conversation with the Spaniard. He looks a little bit lost into his fruit bowl, not sure how to handle this situation adequately. 

“Top of the morning, my sunshines,” a smiling Daniel Ricciardo strolls into the room. The happiness radiating from him reaches (Y/N) even through her closed eyes.

Just as Daniel arrives at their table, she gets up with the most sluggish motions a sober person can muster. “Coffee” is the only thing mumbled, answering to the confused looks around her.

Shortly after, she sits down again with a cup in her hands, not even bothering to try to follow the chatting between Daniel and Carlos. (Y/N) just stares into space, wondering where she went wrong in her life to have to sit in between two morning people. Surely, this is a punishment of some kind.

“Ok, what is up with you? You look like you are about to murder everyone in this room if someone just dares to breathe in the wrong direction,” Daniel observes. (Y/N) takes another sip from her coffee. “Because it’s true.”

Carlos can’t wrap his head around it. “But what happened to the sunshine-in-person-(Y/N)?” “How am I supposed to be a sunshine, when I’m barely a person at this moment?” Well, that is not a lie. She does look pretty rough. Not everyone can wake up and look perfect like Florence Pugh. Some people have to look more like Merida herself in the mornings.

“Why are you talking to this woman during the early hours?” Charles, who just entered the breakfast hall, fears for their lives. “Because this is what people do? They talk when they sit together?” Daniel is confused. What is so bad about making conversations?

Charles steps closer to their table and (Y/N) immediately latches onto him, burying her face into his stomach.

“Don’t you value your life? A tired (Y/N) in the morning needs quiet and some hugs.” The young woman mumbles something, making the Monegasque laugh. “Yes, and coffee. This is the recipe to get the sunshine person you know and love.”

Confused, the other two drivers blink. Did they miss the manual that came with the rookie?

“And you know all of this, because?” Carlos asks the question that popped up in both their heads. “Because (Y/N) and Arthur were together in F2 and he had been ‘chewed out by her like a pack of gum by a class of elementary schoolers’, his words, not mine. She is not all bark and no bite, isn’t that right?” (Y/N) nods, her head still buried into his front.

“Do you want to catch a ride to the paddock with me? I plan on leaving in five minutes.” (Y/N) nods again and quickly gathers her things before waving the other drivers goodbye.

The ride is filled with silence, Charles even leaves the radio turned off. This lets the female drive in and out of a state of half-asleep until they arrive at their destination. At the same time a certain papaya wearing aussie his own car not far away from Charles’ Ferrari.

“Oh, is it still too early?” He asks her with a small smile. Just like Arthur, Oscar is aware how much of a night owl (Y/N) is, having witnessed her outbursts first hand several times during his own career in F2.

The driver nods as she throws herself into his embrace. A tired (Y/N) turns into the most cuddly person. “Let’s get you a cup of coffee, can’t have you go around screaming at people. You will scare everyone off.”

Oscar is pretty much the only smiling person she tolerates in the morning. Whenever another human being dares just grinning in her direction during her own waking up phase, she is ready to jump their throats. But Oscar is different. He doesn't do it out of mocking or pitiness. He is genuinely happy and wants to show and share it. Also, he radiates a nice calm aura, which is the complete opposite to what she experiences during the days of a race weekend.

When Carlos passes (Y/N) by later, he walks up to her with caution, keeping his teammates' warning in mind, “Hey Carlos, have you heard the rumors about the newest Taylor Swift album? Do you think it will feature a song about Nando?”

The woman in front of him has nothing in common with the one he interacted with just an hour ago. She somehow even looks completely different from her. It’s the kind of freshness that doesn’t come with a shower.

“Uhm, no I did not. Are you ok? You seemed… a bit out of it this morning.” There is a hesitation in his voice, not wanting to accidentally offset her.

But (Y/N) just laughs it off. “Oh yeah, that. I’m sorry for being a grump back there. Just like Charlie said, I’m absolutely not a morning person. During the first hour of being awake I’m an absolute monster. Just, don’t talk to me or only when it’s absolutely necessary during that time. I apologize for my behavior, it wasn’t nice. Today was particularly bad, because I do my best work at night and I have been pouring over some data until 2 am. I’ll try to give you a warning next time!”

With that she is off, looking for her partner in crime aka her teammate to start some kind of mischief with the social media team.

Carlos is just flabbergasted. The duality of some people and how a small cup of caffeine can bring that out of them is astonishing.

Just remember to never fuck with night owls during the early hours of the morning.

Bonus Scene

During a free week some drivers set a date to play a private paddle tournament together in Monaco. Daniel enters the court with a big smile. After all, it is a fresh, sunny morning. This day is a promise of having a good time with his friends and colleagues, playing their favorite game and having lunch plans together.

What sets the Australian off are the three frowning faces, sitting on a bench nursing each a can of Red Bull solemnly. “What happened to you?”

Max answers his question first with a grumpy voice. “I had to leave my cats cuddled up in my bed alone.” “My alarm woke me up while the first number on the clock was still a single digit.” Landoo sounds about as tired as (Y/N) next to him looks like.

“Life”, Daniel answers for the young woman already, who just nods and pulls the strings of her hood closed, hindering someone else to make more conversations with her until the caffeine has kicked in.

Desperate times call for desperate measures after all.

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is in maranello but that doesn't mean he can't help. part one.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), porn with a dash of plot, use of explicit language, phone/skype sex, masturbation, toys, overstimulation, praise kink, google-translated french (kay strikes again), fluff, i still really like em dashes

a/n: part twooooooooo! (you can totally read this before part i—this is just a sister smutlet ;) ) i've been really pleased with the response to part i, so i was super duper motivated to get this cranked out for you guys. there's mentions to previous encounters, and i'm very tempted to flesh those out in the future along with the allusions to future events. anyways, eat up! enjoy, loves! xx

You could be a tease, but Charles Leclerc was a bigger one.  

“Charles, I swear to God that—”

“That what, chérie? Hm?,” he asked as he quirked an eyebrow to you, waiting for you to answer as he watched over the Skype call.  You let out a frustrated sigh, sinking back into the bed and allowing your thighs to relax once more.

“So impatient, mon ange…,” he chided, hand working slowly, lazily over his length.  You were on the doorstep of your climax when he’d suddenly cut the power to the delicious little bullet in your hand.  He’d been teasing you for a solid thirty minutes now, listening to soft moans and needy whines as he built you up before allowing your orgasm to recede away once more.

You scoffed, brow furrowing and lid heavy with need.  “Well yes, but-but–,” you stammered as you tried to think of some good reason why you just needed to come.  You couldn’t—no reason that would be particularly compelling when he was like this.

As much as you enjoyed your games with your fiancé, your thighs were beginning to cramp and you swore you were going to have to change the sheets now, too.

You’d gotten on your usual Wednesday night call, mood worse than usual.  It’d been a long day and you were just ready to put it all behind you, bury yourself in the fluffy duvet of your shared bed, and scroll TikTok aimlessly for a few hours to allow yourself the time to rot in peace.

Charles, on the other hand, had other ideas.  If he’d been there, he’d have happily buried his head between your legs until you couldn’t put together a coherent thought and the tension had melted from your shoulders and jaw.  Seeing as he was in Maranello, though, he had to find another way to get you in a better headspace.

Enter: the vibrator.

Well, a remote-controlled bullet.  One that he could control with an app on his phone, the bastard. Some men found toys in the bedroom to be a competitor, but the Monégasque saw them as an accomplice of sorts; they were friends, not enemies.

In the moment, though, the little fucker sure as hell seemed like an enemy to you.

“Please, baby,” you whined for him, pouting with glossy eyes to the camera, “you already know it’s been a long day.”

Charles hummed, taking pity on you as he turned the vibe on once more to a low-power setting. You took a stunted breath, eyes closing as pleasure rolled through you once again.  The sound went straight to his cock, angry red in his hand as precum leaked over the vice grip he held it in.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you whimpered fervently as the toy kicked up another speed, sending you careening towards your climax.

“I wish I could be there, chérie,” he coaxed as he watched you start panting once again, breaths coming in stuttering bursts with whines trapped in the back of your throat. “J'adore entendre tous ces jolis sons, ma jolie,” Charles purred, pulling a particularly pitiful moan from you. He laughed as he ticked the power up another notch, “Oui—juste comme ça, chérie.”

You could feel your orgasm coming at you hot and fast, mouth falling open as your hips dug into the soft material of the mattress.  A tear spilled from the corner of your eye at the sheer sting of need coming into full view, one of your hands planting hard into the bed beside you as your eyes rolled back in reflex.

“Charles, please, I-I-I—”

“C’est bon, minette,” he soothed, his own desire starting to rear its head, “Let go—let it all go for me, mm?” He set the devilish little toy onto full blast, and you didn’t wait for him to rethink his offer.

You babbled half-coherently as something melted in the pit of your belly, washing over your senses until your ears rang and your legs buzzed.  You could feel your sweat pooling in the small of your back as loose strands of hair stuck to your forehead and neck from the matching sheen that covered them, and your partner had turned the bullet to its lowest power setting to nurse you through the aftershocks that rocked your hips.  You were well and truly dripping at this point, a small wet spot forming under you on the white sheets. You really should have put down a towel before you got yourself into this mess.

But with no warning, as you basked in the afterglow of a much-needed orgasm, the toy went into full power once more.  Your eyes shot open and hips jolted away from the sensation as you looked to the screen after a moment of realization.  “Baby, no, I–t-too sensiti—,” you started to whimper to Charles as you heard the sounds of his own pleasure growing more prominent.

“Yes, mon ange,” he said firmly, hazel eyes dark with pleasure, “Just one more—I know you can.”  He watches as your brow furrows once more and your hand disappears between your legs once again.  Never did he ever think he could be so jealous of a fucking hand.

You mewled as you fought the stuttering of your hips each time you pressed the toy to your already-aching clit.  Still, in no time you were there once again, and Charles cursed and muttered under his breath as he watched the show you put on for him.

“Merde—”

“Such a good girl, yes—”

“Going to fuck you so good—”

“Fuck…fuck—”

He grunted your name once more and came with a growl, jaw slack as he spilled over the fist that held him so tightly. Meanwhile, you were coming down with glazed eyes and parted lips, breathing hard as you let out a quiet “fuck.”

“Oui,” Charles agreed teasingly as his head dropped back behind him lazily.

Toy discarded onto the bed next to you, you rolled onto your side to face him on the video call. “Why do you have to work so far away sometimes?,” you grumbled rhetorically, pouting as your body pooled in one of his old t-shirts and your breathing started to match something more normal.  Your body had lost the tension it had been carrying, those dual orgasms working to relieve the stress you’d felt when you’d started the call.  Still, a toy was a poor replacement for the man on the other side of the call, and you wanted him there with you more than you’d wanted that first orgasm.  You hated making him feel bad about being away, but damn did you need to be fucked within an inch of your life right about now.

He tsked softly, lifting his head once more to see your pout.  “I know, mon cœur,” he nodded, adjusting the lid of his laptop to angle more towards his face, “but if I didn’t come to Maranello, I wouldn’t get anything done. We’d be like bunny rabbits—like Corsica.”

Memories of that trip came back, causing your tummy to flip at thought.  You really had fucked like rabbits on that trip, and no surface was safe from the fury of your shared lust. Nothing was sacred and anywhere that had just enough privacy was good enough for one to start tormenting the other with their fingers…their lips…their—

“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” you teased back, smile finding your lips once more as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.  One elbow helped prop your head up while the other hand rested between the soft skin of your thighs.

“My sunburn disagreed,” Charles chuckled as you found yourself laughing with him.  “I looked like a…a—what’s the word? Homard?”

“Lobster?,” you chimed in with a smirk as you remembered just how red he’d been. You swore you‘d slather a metric shit ton of aloe on him during that holiday. The way he’d keep you warm in the cold showers, though…

“Yes, a lobster,” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands at the thought.  “Chérie, it hurt so bad—and Carlos wouldn’t wouldn’t stop laughing at me in the paddock in Spa!”

“But you would taste wonderful dipped in butter!”

“You are an idiot, chérie.”

“And knowing that, you still wanted me to be your wife.  So who’s the bigger idiot in this equation, baby?”

[sebscore]

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS | CHARLES VER.

pairing: charles leclerc x driver!reader

author’s note: finally another one with the one and only lord perceval 💙 hope everyone enjoys this x

headcanons masterlist

• • • • • • •

:: Y/N and Charles were Formula 2 teammates at Prema Racing, and that’s where they became great friends.

:: The golden duo of Prema <3

:: The content on YouTube was so good and are some of the channel’s most watched videos.

:: Charles was the F2 champion and Y/N was the runner-up of the championship.

:: They won 13 out of 22 races combined.

:: Y/N lives in Monaco and gets her hair done in Charles’ mother hair salon.

:: They have a lot of respect for each other and are convinced they will be racing against each other for a long time.

:: Charles is always bitching about how much she gossips, but always listens to whatever she has to say.

:: They get compared a lot by the media since they have very similar careers.

:: The two don’t let it get to them and always speak very highly of each other.

:: Y/N, Charles and Max are considered the Big 3 of the new generation of F1, having shared many podiums together.

:: Y/N = the honorary Lestappen third wheel.

:: Their 2020 quarantine Twitch streams were golden!

:: Y/N being a tease and Charles being a bimbo.

:: She had a conversation with Arthur over Twitch, thinking it was Charles the entire time.

:: The banana costume moment was her screensaver for a while.

:: Charles liked an edit of hers when his TikTok likes were still public.

:: Shippers went crazy with that one.

:: Overall, they’re great friends and hope to be competing against each other for many more years :)

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

[monzaaasharl]

Mama

Pairings:: F1 drivers x Female driver! Reader, Christian Horner x Daughter! Reader, Geri Halliwell x Daughter! Reader

Summary:: Geri Halliwell-Horner shows social media just how proud she is of her daughter and her journey into motorsport, and that their mother-daughter bond really is special and unbreakable.

Speedy Spice Masterlist

gerihalliwellhorner

Liked by y/nhorner, porschef1 and 837,615 others

gerihalliwellhorner I'm so immensely proud of you, my darling. It feels that only yesterday you were begging me to take you to the race track so you could practice your karting skills and now you're driving a Formula One car! You've come so far and been through so much. I can't wait to see you on the circuit!

y/nhorner I'm so lucky to be you're daughter 🩷

gerihalliwellhorner I'm lucky to be you're mother

y/nnnn.xx_ Why can't I have this sort of relationship with my mum

leclerccc_.baee ^^^ fr, they seem like such a perfect family

christianhorner ❤️

oscc.norris_814 I want Geri to be my mum 😭

y/nhorner

Liked by pierregasly, gerihalliwellhorner and 5,739,016 others

y/nhorner Thank you to everyone that has helped me to get to where I am today, this opportunity to drive in Formula 1 is a dream come true. Thank you to my father for buying me my first ever kart and for getting me into racing. But my biggest thank you is to my mother for always believing in me and making sure I never gave up working for this. You're my biggest fan and I'm yours too ❤️

gerihalliwellhorner I love you so much, my darling, you've always made me so proud ❤️

y/nhorner I couldn't have done it without you ❤️

christianhorner As your father I can't wait to see you in action in Bahrain, but as your opponent I'm definitely a bit worried

y/nhorner As your daughter I will make you proud and as your competitor I will make you scared 😂

mickschumacher I can't wait to have you as a teammate

Liked by y/nhorner

shelovesformula1 You're going to smash it!!!

Liked by y/nhorner

lewisss.88 I'm actually so excited for this like there's finally a female formula one driver

webber21vettel She's either gonna be amazing or a flop 😬

s55nz.sf I feel like she's already been overhyped

16_jenson.alo Fr, theres a reason women don't drive in f1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST:

@treehouse-mouse @champomiel @honkyscats @nightreader16 @cherry-piee @welovediaaxx @trouble-sistar @namgification @awhbigail @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @fluvsof @blueberry64857959 @2pagenumb

If you would like to be added or taken off of the taglist please comment, send and ask or message me x

[wintfleur]

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTE LECLERC AU!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Mat barzal x Leclerc f1 driver oc! x Quinn Hughes )

°. — summary ( the journey of Juliette Leclerc and her two lovers )

°. — you can find everything for the AU under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

°. — you can find asks under #💌julietteleclerc!

°. — you can fine everything for the couple under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤎୧˚ Juliette’s lovers

°. — you can find anything smutty under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🎞️୧˚ smutty lovers

°. — ( this is an interactive AU! So feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ౨ৎ Juliette’s profile ⤼ her relationship w/ her brothers ⤼ her relationship w/ mat & quinn ⤼ her relationship w/ her besties ⤼

𐙚 fics

𐙚 smau’s

𐙚 blurbs

𐙚 everything smutty

𐙚 moodboards

౨ৎ Juliette mb

𐙚 extra’s

౨ৎ Juliette’s famous ex’s

౨ৎ more background on the couple

౨ৎ Juliette at the playoffs

౨ৎ long distance thoughts

౨ৎ cuddle thoughts

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn )

﹕─┈ copyright © 2024 you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layouts.

©️WINTFLEUR

[tommydarlings]

one of the girls | c.l

pairing: toxic!charles x reader

warnings: toxic 'relationship', finger in mouth, manipulation

w/c: 0.8k

summary: you loved the wild nights you and charles shared together, but he doesn’t want to continue them anymore…so he breaks it off, and you agree because it’s getting really toxic — or do you? (based off of this request)

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +55 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

You could never admit it but you wanted more. More of him. More of his body. More of Charles.

It’s almost like you became addicted to this man.

Very addicted.

But it didn’t matter, because Charles was neither dumb nor blind, he knew that you wanted more, he knew that you couldn’t get enough of him, it became pretty obvious.

At first, those nights only happened occasionally, now they happen every single night.

And that’s why Charles said that the two of you can’t continue like that, which shattered you.

“I think you’re falling in love with me, cherié,” he mumbled with a teasing smile. How could he smile while you’re standing in front of him with tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, gulping after hearing his harsh words of how the two of you can’t continue your little funny games.

You shook your head, “I-I…no! Charles-”

Suddenly Charles cupped your wet cheek with his palm, thumb stroking your skin as he gazed down at your devastated figure, “I know y/n,” he mumbled with a knowing gaze, “But I’m not in love with you, I hope you know that,” Charles raised his brows as he nodded along his hurtful words.

Then you sniffled before you licked your lips and got even closer to him, forehead almost touching his chin, “we d-don’t gotta be i-in love, charlie, I don’t g-gotta be the o-one,” you gulped before you leaned forward, whispering,

“Just wanna b-be one of y-your girls tonight,” you whispered in a hush and a slightly whiny tone before you bit your bottom lip as new tears formed in your eyes.

Charles raised his eyebrows before he smiled again, briefly chuckling, “Oh you are that desperate?” He tilted his head to the side before his thumb started playing with your slightly trembling bottom lip, “it’s cute, to be honest,” he whispered as his thumb glided along your lip, making your brows slightly furrow as you heard his words.

You gulped as you gazed up at the Ferrari driver with watery eyes, tears threatening to run down your cheeks and temples before you gasped as Charles tapped his thumb onto your bottom lip,

“Go on,” he nodded along his quiet words in a deep and raspy tone, “open your mouth for me, cherié,” he mumbled before you obeyed and opened your mouth, letting him slide his thumb as deep as possible down your throat.

He grinned down at you as he raised his head, “just like that,” he said in a hush undertone, then he tilted his head to the side, slightly furrowing his brows,

“Don’t you have a little shame?” He asked you before he chuckled a bit, making you removed your gaze from his out of pure embarrassment.

Charles raised his brows again, acting suprised, “Oh no, please! I knew that you’d feel shame baby,” he said as he tried to gag you as much as possible with his finger, “you don’t have to be that embarrassed, my love…it’s okay,” he said quietly as tears landed on his hand, making him smile even more.

You gagged for the probably tenth time as he shoved his finger further down your throat, tears covering your heated skin already as you placed your hand onto his wrist, desperately trying to slow his movements down since he really made it hard for you.

He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Oh no, no, no, don’t do that, cherié,” Charles said quietly in a deep and demanding tone, “it’s okay…just trust me, alright? I know how much you can take, i know,” he whispered knowingly, making you slowly remove your hand from his moving wrist.

Charles smiled as you removed your hand, slowly letting it drop down again, “you thought that just because I sleep with you every night means that you mean the world to me, am I right?” He cockily tilts his head to the side with a tiny smirk,

“But that’s not true,” he whispered as your lip started to tremble again, fresh tears entering your eyes as he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, smearing the spit all over your mouth, “you mean nothing to me, cherié.”

You gulped, biting your lip a bit since you really didn’t wanted to start crying now but the urge to do so was definitely big as you tried to remain your gaze on his dark and dominating one.

Pathetically, you still leaned into his touch as he cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your with tears stained cheek as you gazed up at him, “why a-are you so m-mean all of a sudden? You’re u-usually so s-sweet,” you whined as you sniffled and tried to stop your tears from falling.

Charles smiled down at you, “I’m not mean, baby,” he mumbled under his breath, thumb still caressing your soft skin, “You’re just way to foolish and weak,” he added before he leaned forward and gave you quick pecks on your tear stained cheeks, kissing your pathetic tears away as you closed your eyes.

Oh, were you fucked.

[leclercsloveletter]

CL16 | friends or not

Summary: You love Charles, but he keeps you treading on the line between friends and strangers. The humiliation and frustration finally got to you.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem reader

Words count: 1842

Warning: mention of sex, angsty I guess? Google translated french

Author’s note: Inspired by Zeph’s song I just love her music so much. This is my first time using tumblr to post fic so let me know if I can improve the formatting somehow to make it easier to read! Thank youu <3

"Hey Y/n, I'm in Monaco today, pull through?"

"Sure, usual time?"

He left a heart reaction to the text, the familiar dance of messages unfolded with practised precision. An occasional catch-up session with Charles over a glass of wine or within the intimate confines of your shared solitude has become the only constant rhythm in your situation with him. In fact, you don't remember the last time it wasn't like this. He texts you when he's around, and sometimes makes plans just to let it fall through at the last second. You understand he's a man of business, always busy and on his feet, but why would he even consider getting to know you when he knows he can't be at least present in your life as a friend? Worse, why did you allow him to get his way?

Charles Leclerc is the type of man to only text back half the time you texted him. You would be lucky if he read your messages, a lot of the time, he resorts to ghosting you for days or even weeks only to reply with short, blunt, generic answers. Sometimes you laugh to yourself at the audacity of this man, a virtuoso of unpredictability, to parade you around like his future girl during intimate dinners with his friends only to burst your bubble when he's back on the road again.

But sadly, Charles Leclerc is more than that. Besides his devilishly handsome face, he donned the facade of the happiest man alive, a veneer that temporarily eclipsed the shadows of uncertainty when you're finally allowed to occupy his precious time. The streets of Monte Carlo bore witness to your interplay of laughter and the tender clasping of hands. With him holding you so close to his chest the paparazzi can't snap a shot of his mystery girl. It gets to your head like a sick disease. Moments like that are when his existence woven itself seamlessly into the fabric of your life.

Between the white sheets plastered on your naked body and the whispers of the Medditerian sea, Charles Leclerc was your Charlie. The Charlie that speaks in fluent waves of serenity about his life on the road. His words are like a siren's song, drowning out the echoes of your longing that surface in his absence. In those stolen moments, he becomes the tranquil pulse that courses through the veins of your shared narrative. You wish you could tear him out of your skin.

"So, how's life?"

You start the conversation, sitting across from him in a restaurant on the edge of Monaco. Charles is gorgeous as always, in his cream-coloured sweaters that you spent many early mornings nuzzled in before he kindly pulled it off your frame.

"Would you believe me if I said it was kind of shit? Could've been a better season I guess. How about you?"

Charles replied with a laugh, sipping on the sweet wine with eyes fixed on you. It should be illegal for him to give you that look, the look that says he has a genuine interest in your existence.

"I can tell, you always call me when you panic. I think I had more calls from you this season than I ever had before."

A quiet acknowledgment, an attempt to make him realise the shared vulnerabilities you had for each other. You look around before continuing, the same restaurant where you first met, linked up through a mutual friend at a dinner party. He gave you his number over a glass of whiskey on the rock, leaving you full of naive anticipation to send the first text.

"I remember the first time I saw you here. I was starstruck to meet you in real life, clinging to every word you said, so excited when you handed me your number. I wish I wasn't the last thing on your mind Charlie."

Words flow out of you uncontrollably, you don't know why you said that. The pain bubbling up and closing behind your throat as you speak intrigues Charles who now wears an expression of confusion and slight frustration.

"What do you mean Y/n? You know how much you meant to me, tu es la meilleure chose sur terre, chérie."

His gaze softens, hands reaching out to pat a stray hair on your head. His attempt at reassurance softened the moment, yet a lingering doubt clung to the air. You wish he meant it, or meant it and not regret it.

"You're looking at me like that again. Like I'm the best thing on earth to you."

"Because you are-"

"Only because I'm the only one to look at. The second best of two is just last Charles."

Over that bar counter where he slipped you his number, when you were dwelling on the heartbreak of your last relationship, or when you found yourself crying in his living room over the loss of your friend, Charles always said he'd be there for you. Yet, in the crucible of reality, the promises seemed hollow. He's only there when nobody else needs him. You're a second thought to him, a blind spot he noticed when it's convenient. But a part of you desperately held on to Charles, wishing, praying, begging that one day you would be promoted to have a position in his life and not just an on-and-off fling he does.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to make you feel that way."

He said, voice just as calm and peaceful as you always knew. But filled with static and signals that you're tired of decoding. Right at that moment, you realise you could either move on or continue being his nuisance. To set yourself free from Charles's hot and cold would mean to be free of the games he set you in.

"Just reply to my text more often Charlie."

But to set yourself free from Charles also means to lose the love you drove through all the mixed signals for.

-

"Mon ange, what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing much, just that time you brought me to dinner with Max and Kelly. It was nice."

The street of Monaco, viewed from the inside of Charles' car, was silent on a weeknight, surrounded by the sea where lights and chatters fell into white noise. It felt the same as the night when Charles hit you up last minute since he "didn't have a plus one for a party" which turns out to be just dinner with Max and his girlfriend Kelly who have to go on a work trip abroad next week.

Kelly sat across from you, mirroring one another: Women who are successful in their line of work, flowing with beauty and sophistication, have a world-class F1 driver accompany them while you all sit and gossip. The only difference is that she has a title and you don't.

"So Charles, when will Y/n be making paddock appearances? I think Ferrari would love it if you put on a show for the tifosi."

Max joked, tipsy over the seemingly unlimited alcohol on the table. Charles and you both choked on air, but you were flustered with your heart drumming in your chest, and Charles was trying to hide the scrunch of his nose.

"Ah I don't know Max, we are still trying to figure ourselves out. I'm in no rush to run PR and have Ferrari staging pap on me."

He sighs with a chuckle, Max and Kelly both wear concerned gazes seeing your face drop. In your head, the world stops spinning, he doesn't even have the guts to refer to you as a friend, but just something mysterious and hindering that he has to "figure out". The delicious food suddenly turns sour in your mouth, as sour as the pity he's sparing you by asking if you're alright.

-

"Charles, are we friends?"

"Of course we are, I wouldn't let a stranger in my car yea?"

He said lightheartedly, humming to the song on the radio. You can only let out a sigh, you don't know if he's dumb or he's leading you on anymore. Your desire for him is real, it's running thin by the second.

"Stop the car, Charlie."

"What?"

"We need to talk"

He pulled over carefully, you left the pista so fast it's like the leather was burning holes in your skin. The night breeze hit your already cold skin, Charles brought out a coat you know he kept in the back seat to swing over you. If only this was how it is always, to have him so close and so caring, to be his only one.

"So..."

"Charlie, are you bored of me? Did you realise I'm replaceable? If there's anyone better please just let me know and we don't have to pretend we know each other anymore. Please Charles I'm sick of being led around like your decoration only for you to treat me like less than a friend when you're away."

Silence, he stood in silence with a look you can't recognise after spending so much time tiptoeing around him. Your pleading caught him off guard, he probably didn't know you had a breaking point. Or at least he didn't expect it to catch up to him so soon. Charles pulled you into a hug, a futile attempt to assuage the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I promise we are friends. I'm sorry mon ange, that I made you feel that way. I'm uncertain about us, I don't know what I want from you. I just want to keep you around."

"Charles I'm not just something to keep around. I have my values, I'm a human too. I want you but if you don't want us then just...let us go"

"I don't want-"

"This isn't just about you Charles, it's about me too. I will not sit around to wait for you while you go fuck another girl on a different continent every race season. You either give me something or you let me live."

You tore away from his arms in the outburst. Charles looks lost, heartbroken, just the way you look when he did the same to you. You almost run right back to apologise, to cradle him in your love and swear to never hurt him again. But you can't stand being a pet of his anymore, not when you put your whole soul into this man but still not deserving of a title.

Silence, silence hung in the air so heavy and suffocating as he led you back into the car, and dropped you off at your place. A "bye" so small it got lost in the wind as he drove away. War is over you guessed, even though there was no answer but no answer is better than waiting for a potential answer from him. You pull out your phone, delete his number, delete your pictures, unfollow his private account and let the heartbreak wash over you.

Down the street, Charles felt the same as you do for the first time.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE WAIT FOR THE FIRST RACE

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the waiting time between pre-season testing and first race is being filled

content warnings. the girls (men) are fighting and y/n gets a reality check

notes. another chat chapter because you guys liked it lol

george russell Welcome, @/oliverbearman and @/ynstark to the main Grid Chat. I will add you to the other ones as well.

daniel ricciardo WELCOME!!! We're so happy to finally have you here

Also, @/kevinmagnussen, welcome back you ass

Don't leave any groupchats again, it's a pain to add you back

george russell Considering I have to do the work, you're not allowed to complain Daniel

lando norris booo, let him have the fun

nico hülkenberg Oh no, it starts again. I'll mute you asshats if you don't stop this

lando norris you're just boring

oliver bearman thank you guys! very happy and honored to be finally part of the big guys 🫣

y/n stark thank you, george! and i'm excited to officially meet you all, until then, hello :)

charles leclerc Hello y/n, welcome to the grid! I hope you'll enjoy your stay here 😉

y/n stark thank you charles, i'm sure i will lol

kevin magnussen I swear I will block you all

daniel ricciardo Don't be like that, you love us

y/n stark lol, he actually hates you guys, won't stop whining kevin magnussen One day, young lady, one day... y/n stark y'all hear sum? charles leclerc Gagged. lando norris charles???

carlos sainz Can you guys just shut up for once, dios mio.

charles leclerc Aww, Carlos, you love us! carlos sainz Debatable. Sometimes I wish you would all crash and not survive to be honest oscar piastri We get it, you're an asshole carlos sainz Fuck off Piastri oscar piastri Right back at you Sainz

lewishamilton welcome to our new rookies! ollie, awesome to see you again, y/n, don't be a stranger, we haven't talked in ages!

y/n stark lew!! we defo have to, gonna hit you up for fashion show for sure, pepper has been planning something pierre gasly Lew 👀 y/n stark look who's here... the tripod.... pierre gasly Yeah yeah, shutting up. Welcome to the grid y/n y/n stark thank you pierre

sergio perez Welcome, rookies.

max verstappen From me a welcome as well!

esteban ocon Welcome, welcome!! This is so exciting, I've been waiting for a long time now 😋😋

lance stroll Estie??? esteban ocon Shht, Lancey, let me cook lance stroll 💀💀💀

lance stroll Anyways, all of them are idiots, as we already know, welcome to hell, y/n

y/n stark aww, thank you lance. so sorry you have to go throught this 🫂 charles leclerc We're not so bad?? lewis hamilton Well. charles leclerc Oh come on Lewis lewis hamilton I didn't say anything

fernando alonso Stark and Bearman! Welcome to the coolest people on the paddock 😎

oliver bearman thanks fernando! y/n stark thanks nando 😎

alexander albon Hi guys, so nice to see you finally in here! @/georgerussell you took your sweet time man

george russell You be Head of the GPDA then. alexander albon No thank you, I'm fine 🙃

logan sargeant Welcome, welcome, happy to see some new faces!

oscar piastri They're finally here. Welcome back Ollie and welcome Y/n to this shit hole

lando norris you know what osc? oscar piastri No, and I don't care. Save the talking for the track lando norris you do know i'm still zak's favorite driver? i could get you fired oscar piastri Please don't. charles leclerc This is what you get for lying in an interview. No groupchat with all of us is ever formal oscar piastri This literally isn't about you Charles charles leclerc Boo, you hater

y/n stark @/kevinmagnussen i see what you've said now...

kevin magnussen Never ever doubt me again, I've been with those fuckers for years now daniel ricciardo Hey!! That's not nice yuki tsunoda you know what else is not nice ricciardo? daniel ricciardo Yuki, drop it. Team orders are team orders yuki tsunoda i don't give a fuck old man, you behave like a bitch you get bitch behavior max verstappen Drop it or else I'll involve Helmut. yuki tsunoda fuck you dan-cocksucker max verstappen Yuki. We don't carry out team issues to the grid. yuki tsunoda he started first and i have proof daniel ricciardo I don't know why you're being so dramatic, it was only testing yuki tsunoda i give you dramatic you fucking asshole. you know what you did and i stand by my statement that this was a total asshole move. just because you got a big smile doesn't mean you're fooling everyone fucking ass george russell I will both kick you out if you don't drop this immediately.

carlos sainz And it starts again...

valterri bottas You're all children. Stop it

y/n stark so pierre was right huh 😀

kevin magnussen I told you so. pierre gasly Why am I getting involved in shit again?

zhou ganyu I apologize for their behavior. Y/n, Oliver, welcome to the grid, I'll be excited to race you both!

kev

are they actually children because wtf did i just witness.

Yeah... I told you drivers are dramatic. Well, most of them and other's are just their victims. Of course we have our moments and friendships but it's a ruthless sport

man tf. literal man children. i'm so glad i have you as a teammate kev. like seriously. i don't know if i could survive with someone like daniel or carlos

the passive agressive vibes <<<<

that's just not it tbh

I have no idea what you just said but I agree. Daniel and Yuki are not good teammates, it was already bad last year and now this.

To be honest, Nico and I often missed stuff like that since we were stuck at Haas and the upper dogs never really showed interest in what we thought or did but everyone knew what happened between them

pls don't tell me they have a clique here... oh my god and i thought the rumors were false

I mean.. not really but also kinda yes? Better drivers stick together since they're always spending time together, you know. No one cares about the ones who're limping behind, well besides Pierre and Esteban, but they're only kinda involved because they're close to Charles and Lance. And Lewis and Fernando aren't really on their level, they keep to themselves

why are men problematic

not you obvs, but like... jeez really felt the love here when we got welcomed

Welcome to F1 kid, it's a shithole

thanks, it's so lovely here

dad?

i think it's worse than we thought

Honey, what are you talking about?

everything. you should see the group chat with the drivers right now. i thought people were joking about f1 drivers being bitter and bitchy towards each other, but there are literally groups and alliances or whatever the fuck is going on there

and if that's only the drivers... i don't want to know how the teams are

Oh.

but also like, what is that going to stop us? we made plans, we know what to do but dear lord are men stupid. well not all but most of them. i literally had to watch how yuki and daniel were fighting because of a team issue in the GROUPCHAT with all drivers

and when max told them to drop it, he got called a dan-cocksucker, can you imagine??

everyone seems to know why they're fighting besides me and ollie, i knew there was tension in alpha tauri but this?? it's a new level of what the fuck is going on here

Are you alright?

i am

just

yk had to tell someone who's not kev since he has been involved in this forever and is used to it. but i still thought

well idk what i thought, maybe i'm just stupid for my wishful thinking

should've known all of this was pr and that most rumors are true. it will make our lives a bit harder

Don't worry, no matter what they throw against us, it's no alien invasion. They're just whiny little men after all and I'm literally Iron Man

i know dad

love you. and thank you

Of course, anything for you

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel, @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles , @fangirl-dot-com , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora , @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozart , @leclucklerc , @yl90 , @thebook-bitch

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 10

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader

Warnings: Cursing, Aus 24

Authors Note: this one felt dense tbh

Series Masterlist—————————————————— TWITTER

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logansargeant has added to their story

charles_leclerc replied to your story

Passenger princess? 🤣

logansargeant

You know it 😂

charles_leclerc

Dw man she doesn’t let me drive either lol

logansargeant

Maybe she should for your safety lmao

Been about five almost crashes in the past 2 minutes

charles_leclerc

I’m not much better tbh 😂

logansargeant

lmao

charles_leclerc

y/n said you guys were getting food?

logansargeant

Yeah

You want anything?

charles_leclerc

Yeah yeah

I’ll text y/n my order

logansargeant

👍👍👍👍

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[disneyprincemuke]

look after you * fem!driver

the heat of the qatar race alongside her period proved to be much more than she can handle; although she doesn’t tell anybody that

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, carlos sainz x fem!driver, charles leclerc x fem!driver

warnings: mentions of period, not feeling well

notes: hi i told u we're back to regularly scheduled fem!driver content... although, i do have a plan for something else later tonight! i also seem to be getting over my writer's block, sOOO WE SHOULD BE GOOD TO GO WITH THE REST OF MY FICS

also, i'm very curious where u guys think i'm from because i'm awake at the most ludicrous of hours answering asks and messages so like idk

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she sits back in her seat, eyes darting all over the garage as mechanics and engineers scramble around to prepare her car for the race later today.

the sprint race yesterday was just as excruciating as she expected. the heat, the intensity of the race, and the fact that she's suddenly got her period was not a good mix as it proves.

she barely survived the duration of the sprint yesterday. she was visibly pale climbing out of her car, chest heaving and makeup melting off as she took her helmet off. it didn't take long for sebastian to catch on to her state when she entered the garage after weigh-in.

"kid," sebastian stops right in front of her, head tilted to the side in concern. he's got a cold can of pepsi in his hands when she looks up. "are you feeling okay? you don't have to race today if you're not well."

"no, i'm fine," she nods, taking the pepsi into her hands. she smiles up at him weakly as she sips on the straw. "i'm okay."

"well, you didn't look very okay yesterday," sebastian frowns. "don't be pressured to race tonight if you don't feel like it. your safety is more important than the race and it's unbelievably hot here tonight."

she shakes her head, slowly getting up as she remembers the drivers' parade that she has to attend. "i can definitely race today. i promise i'm fine," she reassures him with a pat to his shoulder. "i just need more pepsi to feel refreshed."

"you've got to drink water at some point for hydration," sebastian mutters. "i've got some in the freezer for before the race. drink it, okay?"

she grins at him with a thumbs up, slowly exiting the garage. "i will drink the ice cold water."

when she turns around to walk towards where other drivers have gathered, she backs into somebody's body, making her whirl around with an apology on her lips.

"i'm so sorry!"

"oh, it's alright!" a familiar giggle fills her ears and a hand comes up to her shoulder to offer some support. when she turns around, alex is smiling down at her as he steps aside to walk with her. "oh, your hair is up in a ponytail today. is something wrong?"

"what?" she's taken aback by the question - why is her ponytail such a big deal? "what about the ponytail?"

"i've just never seen you bring your hair up before on a race weekend," alex frowns, tugging at a strand of hair gently. “you look cute. and- oh, no makeup today?”

she shakes her head with a frown. “the heat practically melted my makeup off yesterday. that shit’s expensive and uncomfortable,” she mutters, bottom lip out in a pout as they walk.

when they approach the small group gathered by the pit lane, she’s greeted by oscar’s surprised gasp and carlos’s confused head tilt.

she lifts her arms, palms into the sky as she throws them a scowl. “what?”

carlos tears his eyes away immediately, but oscar maintains his gaze on her. “you’re not wearing any makeup.”

“yeah, so?”

oscar furrows his eyebrows and turns his body away from her. “nothing, just odd. you typically like doing your makeup.”

“it’s too hot to do my makeup,” she sighs, not liking that she has to repeat herself. “it practically melted off during yesterday’s sprint.”

“that’s true. comfort over anything else,” carlos nods with an approving smile. “please remember to drink some water later.”

“you and seb are so alike,” she grins, patting the spaniard’s shoulder. “that’s exactly what he told me earlier.”

“yeah, because everyone knows you don’t drink water when you’ve got,” oscar snatches the drink in her hand, “a pepsi in your hand. so unhealthy.”

“well, it makes me feel so sparkly in my mouth,” she fights back, snatching it back. “mind your own drink!”

“what’s u– you look different today,” logan says, slowly approaching the circle. with a hand on the small of her back, he tilts his head slightly as he scans her face. “is it the hair?”

“no, mate,” oscar smirks, “she didn’t do her makeup.”

“oh! how come?” logan frowns, pinching her cheek. “i was wondering why you hadn’t sent a selfie to the groupchat yet begging for compliments.”

“yeah, true,” oscar chuckles. “that does seem to be a trend, doesn’t it?”

“you guys get selfies for free?” carlos frowns. “she always asks me to pay like a thousand every weekend i ask her what she’s wearing to the paddocks.”

“only a thousand? she asks me for millions,” alex finally speaks again with the shake of his head. “what a business woman you are.”

carlos raises an eyebrow. “all jokes aside though… you are looking a bit pale. are you feeling okay?”

she smiles, a thumbs up raised next to her face. “of course!”

“mate, you don’t look very well,” she mutters, sipping on her pepsi as she approaches logan. “the flu still got you bad?”

“pretty bad,” logan sighs, slumping his shoulders. “but i’ll be alright.”

she hums, pressing her lips together as she looks at him from the side of her eye. “i’m not sure if i believe you, actually.”

“if anyone’s more of a liar between us, it’s you,” he puts his hands on his hips, “you look worse than i do and you just keep insisting you’re fine

“is it because i’ve not got makeup on?” she scowls at him, winding her hand back to smack him on the shoulder.

“what?” he cries incredulously, throwing his head back in shock. “where’d you get that? i didn’t even say anything about the makeup!”

“it’s just such a coincidence that everyone’s saying i look sick without makeup on.”

“it’s really not that. you just don’t look like you’re coping well with the heat.”

“oh, cause god forbid a woman sweats.”

“i literally didn’t even say that.”

“you may as well have.”

“you’re crazy.”

“you guys are driving me crazy with all these questions.”

“cut it out,” oscar scolds, coming up from behind them. he steps between their bodies and separates them. “grid kids are coming. please behave.”

“he said i look sick because i didn’t have makeup on,” she mutters, pointing at logan.

“i said she doesn’t look like she’s coping well with the heat! i never said anything about the lack of makeup!” logan answers hurriedly, leaning forward to scowl at her from oscar’s side. “will you tell her to cut it out?”

“tell him to stop telling me i look sick!”

“okay,” oscar says, hands up as she stops speaking. he turns to logan. “stop aggravating her — you already know what’s pissing her off, so stop bringing it up and asking her.”

then, he turns to the girl with narrowed down eyes. “and you do look a bit sick, and trust me, it’s nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t do your makeup. you just look like you are going to pass out,” oscar sighs. “just drink some water, and i’m sure you will look slightly more alive.”

he straightens his back as more drivers pile towards them for the opening ceremony for the race. “now, cut it out and just act normal. please.”

“are you sure you’re fit to race tonight?” sebastian asks again, eyebrows raised as she zips up her race suit. “no harm in pulling out if you’re not okay.”

“seb,” she says in a laugh, securing the velcro around her neck. “i’m okay. it’s just another day in the office.”

“your mum would personally shave my head if she finds out i let you race when you’re not well,” sebastian sighs. he places a hand on her shoulder. “seriously. please sit out if you need to.”

“i’m,” she turns to him and puts a hand on his elbow, “seriously okay. please don’t worry so much. this is what i do — i race.”

“fine,” sebastian smiles. “but promise me you’ll keep me updated how you’re doing during the race.”

“i always do,” she smiles, leaning into his body for a hug. like they always do before she gets in the car for the formation lap. “promise me you won’t pull me out without my approval.”

“i’d never dare cross you."

well. she didn’t feel good the entire race. it was too hot the entire race, her seat was burning, and sweat flooded her face almost three-quarters of the duration.

the sensation of her hair sticking to her neck and her sweaty head is driving her to the brink of overstimulation. perhaps it’s with the added bouts of cramps that would come every few minutes.

but she doubts it’s the period making her feel sensitive. it’s not her first time racing with the conditions of her period.

she finished in p5, which is arguably very nice, but she just feels very suffocated in her race suit and the helmet that hugs her.

“is logan alright?” she manages to ask, driving her car into parc ferme. “you mentioned he retired during the race?”

“he’s alright. dehydration, i think,” sebastian answers her through the radio. “medical centre with james.”

“what about oscar? he’s okay?”

“he’s alright, from what i can see from the pit wall. he’s got p3.”

“crazy stats for a rookie,” she smiles as the car stops. “can i just sit here for a while, please?”

“do you need help getting out of the car?”

“i don’t,” she trails off, her head starting to spin now that she’s no longer in motion. instantly, her chest starts to feel heavier and her breaths become shallow. “i just… just need a minute.”

every breath she takes is proven to be worse than before. the hot air hits her in the face, the helmet and the balaclava restricting the type of air she can get.

she just wants to lay back in an ice bath, if she could. if she could just manage to get out of the car, that is.

a tap on the top of her helmet urges her to look up, doe eyes meeting a pair of dreamy green eyes. one that she doesn’t see often, but has always looked up to since she was young.

“are you okay?”

“charles,” she says breathily, her vision getting blurrier by the second. “i’m okay. i just needed a minute. it’s very hot.”

“it is,” he smiles. “do you need help getting out?”

“i’m alright,” she says softly. “it’s just a little hard to breathe.”

“it would probably help if you take off the helmet,” he suggests. “i’ll hold it for you — take it off now so you can get fresh air.”

she nods, reaching beneath her chin to unclip the helmet. slowly, she pulls it off her head, then charles takes it into his hands.

instantly, she does feel slightly better. she pulls the balaclava away from her nose, allowing her to deepen the breaths she’s taking as she attempts to regain her composure.

“doesn’t that feel much better?” charles grins. “let me help you out of the car and let’s head to weigh-in together. sound okay?”

she smiles with a nod. “okay.”

the way charles leclerc has her starstruck even after racing alongside him the entire year is something she will never understand. she climbs out of the car, charles’ arms lifted up protectively around her as she wobbles out.

then she realises that he’s holding both of their stuff. she tries reaching over to take her helmet into her hands, but he simply twists his body away from her as he shakes his hesd.

“take off the gloves. you’ll feel so good,” charles smiles at her, still walking alongside her. “and the balaclava. don’t worry about your helmet.”

“thank you,” she smiles, her cheeks flushed as she does as she’s instructed. “how was your race?”

“it was okay,” charles says simply. “you drank water during the race, yes?”

“a little. it wasn’t very refreshing when i did,” she sighs. she holds her balavlaca and gloves in one hand, smiling when charles finally hands her her helmet. “though, i think- whoa!”

her sentence is cut off immediately, her helmet falling to the ground with a loud thud as she lands on her knees against the pavement. her hands dig into the gravel as she drops her head low, slightly embarrassed that she’d tripped on absolutely nothing to the naked eye.

“hey, are you alright?” charles asks hurriedly, bending down next to her. he puts his helmet down on the ground gently, a hand wrapping around her elbow and the other around her shoulders. “what happened?”

“i don’t know,” she sighs. she straightens her back slightly, sitting on her knees. “i got dizzy for a second.”

“we better get you to someone who knows how to take care of you,” charles sighs, looking up at the crowd that’s gathered around them.

one of them, being carlos, who sat out for the race today. “i’ll bring her to the medical centre,” carlos mutters, wrapping his arms around the younger girl. “get her things to seb. i’ve got her.”

“stupid,” was the first thing logan said to her when she stepped into the room in the medical centre.

she scowls at him, a cold pack of ice gel sitting on her forehead as carlos helps her get settled into her seat. “shut up.”

“no, you shut up.”

“both of you shut up,” carlos sighs. he bends down and reappears with two bottles of water. “both of you are like, extremely dehydrated. please drink some water.”

“you didn’t drink the water seb asked you to drink before the race?” logan scoffs. “should have known better. you’re on your period, aren’t you?”

“you’re one to talk — you literally refused to drink the water they gave you in the car,” she scoffs. “and how do you know that?”

“you only physically reject water when you’re on your period, idiot,” logan sighs, sinking in his seat and closing his eyes. “also, i live with you. of course i know when the devil comes to visit you.”

“drink,” carlos says again, handing her the opened bottle of water. “i know it’s not super cold water, but you’ve got to drink something.”

“only freezing water for me,” she frowns, pushing the bottle back into carlos’s body. “you heard logan: i’m on my period.”

“i’ve got your stupid water right here.” the door is opened, sebastian holding it open with a bottle in his hand. he flashes a grin at his driver before extending his arm to give her the bottle. “drink up, please.”

“do you know she is on her period today?” carlos snorts, pointing at the girl. “no wonder she was being weird all day.”

the look of realisation that dawns on sebastian’s face can only be described as priceless. typically, him and noah, her physical trainer, are quite up to date with her statistics.

for something this serious to be overlooked with the chaotic weekend was a big issue.

“oh,” sebastian frowns. “why didn’t you tell me? we could have looked after you better.”

she smiles, closing her eyes. she waves off his concern. “i was okay. finished in the points without makeup melting on my face.”

“okay, what do you m- you literally almost fainted after the race!” sebastian groans, scratching his head in confusion. “nothing about that screams okay!”

“her definition is okay is that she’s not dead,” logan says monotonously.

“which is a good definition, if you ask me.”

“but it’s stupid,” sebastian says.

“but it makes sense,” she sings. “i’m gonna take a nap. wake me up when they come over to give me an iv like the nurse said earlier.”

“you are so very silly for not hydrating enough,” carlos sighs, readjusting the gel pack on her forehead. he puts another one where her shoulder meets her neck, chuckling when she shakes in a shiver. “glad you’re okay.”

“me too.”

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

[oofthwoods]

── ˙ ̟ 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 !!

🎙️ how heavy is the weight of a legacy, and what would you do to protect it?

to you, legacy means the formula one team bearing your family name. as a child, you eagerly tagged along with your mother to races, sharing laughs with the engineers and mechanics, and being lifted into the air in triumph after every win. yet as time passed, those moments became fewer and farther between, and before you knew it, the once-legendary team was now scraping by at the back of the pack.

in your final visit with your grandfather before he passed away, you made a promise to him: you would drive for the team that he and your grandmother poured their blood, sweat, and tears into, and you would restore glory to the williams surname, whatever it takes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) :: 2024!f1 grid x williams driver!reader. | specific pairing to be revealed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :: cursing, sexual themes, mention of death, mental health, sexism. will be updated if necessary.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: if this is the first work you see on my page, hello and welcome! hope you enjoy bring home the glory. if you have already read my other serie, the echo, i feel that is necessary to comment that this serie is written and released in a different style — while my first one is full of separated one shots and a barely there plot line, bhtg is plot heavy, with a determined beginning, middle, and end. hope you still enjoy it <3 | as always, english is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes in the writing, and if you want to be added to the taglist, just say so!

˒ ⌕ — CHAPTERS

ᯓ★ :: prologue

ᯓ★ :: chapter one "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

©️ oofthwoods — 2024.

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 3

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter’s Premise: "You are his mate."

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora @exotic-iris13 @topguncultleader @mirrorball-6 @barcelonaloverf1life @silscintilla

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

"Mom, how did you know Dad was The One?"

"I just knew. Your dad was a mighty Alpha, someone who commands attention and respect with every step. Out of everyone I've dated, his pheromones were the only one that affected me to such great extent. Turns out he felt the same way with my pheromones."

"Pheromones?"

"Oh my dear y/n. My sweetheart. Someday you'll know in your heart when you meet the right person."

The sound of the V6 engine. Crowds going wild. The feeling of starting on the front row. Red lights go one by one. It's a rush. Nothing can beat this.

Max was quick to snatch the lead from you on Turn 1. Charles also proved he was a tough act to beat. Ferrari's car was faster on the straights but Aston Martin has amazing rear grip during high speed corners.

And for this track with 4 long straights, fast straight line speed was needed. Even with DRS to assist you, you couldn't keep up with Charles. It was degrading your tire too much.

By lap 35, you descended to P12 after a horrific slow pit stop of 3.4 secs. The pressure got to you and you were about to radio-in your frustration but you were also quick to clear your mind.

Y/N: "What is the gap to the car ahead, Ben?!" Ben: "Albon ahead by 2 secs, then Gasly by 4 secs." Y/N: "All on old tires?"

Ben: "Confirm."

You quickly maneuvered your way on the first chicane going on the inside, easily overtaking Albon and Gasly. You gave everything that you can to battle it out with the Mercedes pair. Russell locked up and you took this opportunity to go for wide and overtake. You were in DRS range of Hamilton during the straight and you went for it as you both take the corner.

The remaining laps felt like an eternity. The confidence you had on your car the past few days didn't translate to today's race. Pre-season testing and Qualifying laps were different. Back then, you were getting a feel on the car without actually pushing it to the limit. But now? It's like getting an expensive exclusively tailored running shoe and using it for a marathon after only practicing with it for a few days.

Everyone had their difficulties on the first track of the season since this will be the first time these cars will be tested against each other's. These are experienced drivers. Driving in F2 compared to this is a whole different story.

And then the race ended much quicker than you've anticipated.

As much as you wanted a podium on your first race, it didn't happen. You were grateful to have gotten the pole position during qualifying but you repeat to yourself that P5 on your first race isn't bad. You could've given more but you aren't attuned to the car just yet. It'll get there.

You halt your car at parc ferme along with the other drivers. As you crawl and lift yourself up out the cockpit, the other drivers went on to congratulate you. Pierre and Alex were so quick to put their arm on your shoulders after you removed your helmet and balaclava.

"That was some amazing driving!"

"You got some moves, y/l/n!"

Both cheered at the same time and Pierre even rustled your hair. Yuki and Esteban joined them in congratulating you. Even the elder drivers such as Lewis and Fernando were amused at the camaraderie you've built with the other drivers.

Max was also able to notice your closeness with the other drivers from where he was standing. He had already celebrated with his mechanics and is just waiting at the side to wait for his turn while Carlos is being interviewed for finishing third.

He doesn't usually make a lot of effort to befriend any rookie but it left a bad taste on his tongue knowing that he's the only one you're not in good terms with. His friends are a good judge of characters and seems to be enjoying your company. Being the competitive person that he is, surely it won't be that hard to make you see him as a friend.

After the podium celebration and media commitments, you were summoned back to the hospitality and had a debriefing with the whole team. Datas upon datas are presented on the screen. The team discussed what worked and what didn't work during the whole race weekend.

Fernando praised how technically involved you are with the team for the car's development. In this line of work, you can't be too critical of yourself or else, it might even negatively affect your performance. P5 was a feat worth celebrating.

You ask Megan if you could stay for a bit inside the room to re-watch your race. Your notebook is your only company while you endlessly analyze every bit of your race.

It was enlightening and relaxing after an hour of working alone in the de-briefing room of the Aston Martin hospitality. You bid goodbye to the other mechanics and engineers that were still in the garage and walked across the paddock to your car.

You see, in the paddock, all hospitalities are arranged closest to farthest from the entrance based on your place in the championship last season. It's a given that the race leaders (Red Bull, Ferrari, and Mercedes) are the ones near the entrance. The midfield teams and back markers are at the end

A real Walk of Shame.

But with Alonso's and Lance's help last year, Aston Martin has now become part of the mid-field and a contender for being frontrunner.

You passed by the Ferrari hospitality when you heard Charles' voice calling out your name. He runs to catch up to you and matches your pace.

"Didn't expect you to stay behind as well." Charles called.

"I wasn't satisfied with my performance." You huffed.

"That was one of the best rookie performances on an opening race I've seen so far. Don't be too hard on yourself." He voiced. "Have fun! It's nerve-wracking but one of the best experiences you'll ever feel." Charles pats your head gently.

"You're right. I'm actually having fun looking at the reactions of the boys whenever I beat them." You joked.

"As harsh as it sounds, I'm glad there's a healthy rivalry between you and the grid. Anyways, how will you get back to the hotel?" Charles asked.

"I brought a car. How about you?"

Charles just grinned and chuckled without saying a word. As if waiting for a response.

You come to a realization on what he was hinting. "Do you want to hitch a ride with me?"

Charles did a poor attempt of a wink and did a thumbs-up gesture. You almost snorted in amusement because the man could not wink properly at all. Thank God, he's good-looking.

"As long as I'm driving." You suggest and Charles hitched a breath. "No arguments or else, I'm leaving you here." You looked around at an almost empty paddock.

He contemplated for a minute. "Fine. Just for the record, I am against this and I wanted to be a gentlemen. You owe me a car ride but next time, you're my passenger." Charles gave in and didn't insist.

"Deal."

The drive to the hotel was short but it didn't feel awkward at all. Charles was such a goofball especially when he opened the window and stuck his head out to scream. Clearly, he was on a high for bagging a podium.

There was a brief moment where you and Charles' eyes met. It was actually comforting, rather than awkward. He was comfortable being goofy around you and you were grateful that somehow this moment made you forget how you were beating yourself up because of the race result.

Charles turns up the speaker after he connects it to his phone and even invites you to sing out loud to As It Was by Harry Styles. He bobs his head so hard and screamed every lyrics out the window. You've seen the reactions of some of the people you've passed by. They're either weirded out by a strange man screaming his lungs out or amazed after they've recognized that it was the Charles Leclerc.

A crowd of people were waiting outside the hotel, screaming and cheering when you and Charles arrived at the hotel lobby. Charles waved at them and you dropped the car key to the valet. His fans were screaming his name in a deafening manner.

Charles walked towards them to sign a few merch items that the fans were holding out.

Somebody screamed out your name and it made you stop in your tracks from entering the lobby. It didn't occur to you that you would have fans this early in the season. You were just a rookie. Still a nobody.

Charles also called out your name and pointed at your fans when you turned.

Two small kids and their mom were screaming your name, beaming with joy. As you go near them, you stretched out your hand to take the shirt they're holding that visibly shows your number.

The kid was so adorable when she saw you signing her shirt. She was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing up and down while tugging her mother's shirt.

"She's a massive fan. She said she wanted to be like you when she grows up." Her mother leans slightly forward to whisper.

"Thank you so much! That's such a high honor." You replied as you knelt down and ruffled the kid's hair. "Did you watch my race?"

The kid aggressively nods. "Yes. You were great! I couldn't take my eyes off you from the screen. I promise to watch your race every time!"

"Well, then I promise that you have something worth watching for." You hand back the shirt to the kid and stood up.

Charles was done taking photos and signing stuff for the fans at the same time you were walking back to the lobby.

"Thanks for the ride! I enjoyed it." Charles turns to you after entering the lobby.

"Just rate your Uber Driver 5 stars please." You chuckle. "I enjoyed it too. You're my favorite passenger so far."

Charles was about to talk but was cut by Carlos who suddenly appeared beside him, arms crossed on his chest. You notice that he wasn't aware of your presence yet.

"Hey Charles! Why did I hear from your manager that you refused to use the car back to the hotel? You left it in the parking lot at the --"

Carlos choked at the sudden slap on his back by Charles. "Really? I wasn't aware that we had a car for me." Charles nervously muttered.

The poor man was confused at Charles' deflection but realized straight away when he noticed you watching the two of them. He stood straight up and waved at you.

"Hey Carlos! I brought back your partner in one piece. He hitched a ride with me." You cackled.

"Did he go crazy again? Turned up your speakers on max?" he asks.

"YES! He was a great passenger though." You beamed.

"Hear that? I was a 5-star passenger." Charles puffed out his chest.

"Yes, yes. Mate, you're late for dinner." Carlos said as he pats Charles' shoulder.

"Oh right!" Charles gasped. "Thank you again for the ride. If you need a driver, don't hesitate to contact me. Okay?" he adds as he slowly walk away with Carlos. You nod and gleamed in return.

It was a peaceful walk back to your room. The thrill of your first F1 race was slowly dying down. You weren't as dejected as you were a few minutes ago. Thanks to all the people who were supporting you.

Your phone buzzed as you exit the elevator. You pull it out from your pocket and saw an unexpected name.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: Hi Y/n! I just would like to congratulate you for a great race. I saw some of the highlights in the cooldown room.

Aston Martin Y/N: Thank you Max. You too, congratulations on P1!

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: So I guess you also have a team dinner?

Aston Martin Y/N: Just a simple one here at the hotel. Nothing too fancy.

Aston Martin Y/N: I'm sure Red Bull would celebrate your win.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: I didn't want to but Christian insisted. They've started to open the champagnes. Checo also brought some tequila.

Aston Martin Y/N: Tequila as a post-race reward actually sounds good right now

You assumed that was the end of your conversation but it also surprised you that it continued to go on. You were even replying to his messages during your team dinner.

Max was surprisingly easy to talk to. He could throw very hilarious jokes and even shared some memes with you that some fans have made from the Bahrain GP. The one that got you on a chokehold was a meme of George during the driver's parade. A true meme king. You almost snorted out your nose the water you were drinking while you were checking your phone.

Your constant exchange of banters with Max went on even during the two week break until the Saudi Arabia Grand Prix. You haven't yet talked to him personally outside of the phone conversations. It was easier this way. If only his scent wasn't a cause of your torment, you and Max could even be better friends.

Good thing that almost all of the drivers were so busy with media commitments come Wednesday of the Saudi Arabia GP. Even if you enjoy being text mates with Max, you still felt the need to avoid him.

In contrast with what you feel, you find yourself checking your phone almost every hour to see if you've gotten a message. It was quiet.

"How many times have I seen you checking your phone today? Are you waiting for a text?" Oscar asks as he walks with you through the paddock.

"Nah. I don't know. Kinda feels weird my phone is quiet. Must be busy." You murmured. "I heard Lando saying that you have New York Cheesecake for dessert. Can you spare some for me? Steal some from the Mclaren hospitality? Pretty please?" You hide your phone in your pocket and gestured puppy eyes at Oscar while tugging his shirt.

"Geez, you're such a sweet tooth. Fine, I'll steal some and deliver it to your garage later." Oscar replied. He effortlessly leans his arm on your head and teases you.

"Thanks Mom!" You skipped in joy.

"You have to stop calling me that. If that gets out, the people in the internet will surely start making memes of me as Mom Piastri." He jokes.

"That doesn't sound too bad, Mom." You teased the Australian Driver.

Max just got out of the Red Bull hospitality with his physio when he quickly noticed the two of you meters away from him. He takes note of how often he sees you in such a sunny disposition with the other drivers. He wanted to take out his phone and text you right then but was interrupted when his physio called him out.

It's finally race week!

The pace of your car was wonderful during FP1 and FP2 on the first day. There were no issues and the car was enjoyable to drive. You always land in P2 to P4, and it made you confident going into FP3, qualifying and the race.

However, something felt a bit odd on the second day.

Y/N: "There's a bit of a smell. A strange smell coming from the car. Is something wrong?" Ben: "Okay, we'll have a look." Y/N: "Doesn't feel different when driving but can you please double check?" Ben: "Nothing's coming up on our monitors. You can continue." Y/N: "Copy."

This started during FP3 but thankfully, you were able to finish it with no issues.

During Q1, things started to reach a decrescendo. Even the commentators were starting to get uneasy with how many reports you were giving back to your engineer.

Y/N: "My downshifts are really, really bad." Ben: "Standby." Y/N: "They're just super long. The whole downshift procedure." Ben: "Is there a specific corner?" Y/N: "The last corner is fucked up."

What happened on Q2 was the one that takes the cake. It ended your qualifying stint before you even had the chance to get everything out of the car.

Y/N: "Uhh I have a problem. Engine. Engine Problem. It's almost not accelerating." Ben: "Ok. Understood y/n. Well, we'll do what we can. We're happy for you to try and limp home, if possible."

"Traumatic twist that no one saw coming. The dominant Aston Martin car could not complete Qualifying. and y/n will have to fight through from 15th at best." Brundle commentates.

You went back to the hotel feeling dejected and almost wanted to stay cooped up in your room but the boys were so eager for you to join them for a short game night.

The boys were so chaotic playing Overcooked 2 in Lando's room. Yuki and Pierre were screaming at each other on whether they should throw the burgers their avatars were holding or place it on the counter, while Lando and Alex were bickering and laughing while they figure out how to maneuver their avatars.

"I could use some stress reliever. Thank you." You said as you nudge Oscar's side.

"We all needed it." Oscar replies.

Oscar was quick to react when a knock was heard on the door. He ran to get it and came back with Charles and Max following behind.

"Max, such a surprise to see you here!" Alex calls out Max while his eyes are still glued to the screen.

"I begged for him to come." Charles gleefully pats Max's chest and sat beside Alex.

Max sees you standing on the other side of the bed near Pierre and Yuki. You wave at him and he waves back. This was the first time you've interacted with him this weekend.

The first game ended and the boys gave the controllers to the rest of the group. Oscar sat beside you while Charles and Max sat together.

Charles suggested that they change teammates since Charles and Max's team usually wins during game night. As a handicap, Charles would be your teammate and Oscar would be with Max.

You laugh at the suggestion because when Oscar sat down beside Max, he reverted back to his introverted self. He wasn't as close with Max unlike with the others. He looked like a scared little lamb.

Charles was hilarious all throughout the game. He was even more riled up than you. You let him shout the steps to you while you concentrate on finishing the tasks.

Oscar was doing good with Max. They were bickering like kids but they were able to finish the task better than you and Charles. Max was now standing and focusing on the screen like nothing else mattered.

Everyone was basically cheering and screaming at this point. It wouldn't be a surprise if somebody reported a noise complaint.

At the end of the night, everyone bid goodbye to Lando and Oscar and walked back to the elevator together.

"I'm glad you had fun." Max whispers as he leans closer to you. Both of you were at the back of the group.

"I didn't expect for you to join us but I'm glad you did. Now we have the right amount of people to play the game." You replied.

"Oh right..." Max pauses. "Well, I'm glad I came."

Everyone got in the elevator with you being the last one to enter. The boys were still chatting with each other as you were looking at the screen at the side which says the floor. It dinged on the next floor and a group of five entered.

The other 6 drivers were now quiet while the five strangers were chatting. All of you got pushed back and you were now leaning hard against Max who was behind you.

You try your best not to be nervous at the sudden close proximity between you and the dutch driver. Your body burns at the sensation of his hands at your waist trying to steady you after you waddle out of balance when another person got inside the elevator, further pushing you against Max.

Max noticed a sweet scent within the elevator. Probably from the other people who just came in, he thought. However, when his face got close to backside of your neck, the scent got stronger. He can't help but be drawn to the succulent scent you're emitting from your nape.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt Max's breath brush against your skin. You could almost feel Max's chest purring against your back.

Max's scent was also starting to change and you were the only one to notice it. The scent emitting from him was sweet and musky. You could almost whimper at how ambrosial it smells. There was no sense of fear, but pure elation.

The other drivers were blissfully unaware of the tension building up between you and Max as they chat away with the others. You also see Charles joking around with Alex and Pierre.

Max felt your knees buckle slightly and his hands that were on your waist steadies you. Unaware of his surroundings, he continues to take in your delectable scent.

"Stop it, Max..." You whisper, careful not to let anyone else hear you but Max.

He was getting drunk with your scent. It was making him dizzy and he couldn't get enough of it. Like a bee being attracted to a flower's nectar.

His fingers on either side of your waist were now starting to bore into your skin. His growls were now getting slightly audible. The other drivers faintly heard it and were starting to notice a sweet scent as well but didn’t actually realize those were coming from you two. You gripped his right wrist but it didn't even faze Max.

It took him out of his trance when you nudged his stomach with your elbow after you heard the elevator ding and the strangers exited. You stride to the side beside Yuki, and Max steps away opposite to you.

No one could describe what happened between you and Max in that elevator. It left the both of you flushed and panting. Your minds lingering on each other's touch. Eyes glued to each other's gaze.

One by one, the drivers stopped at their respective floors. Leaving you and Max to be the last one left in the elevator. Max's eyes never left you. You avoid his gaze and frantically pressed the elevator button.

Max makes his way to you and slaps his hand on the wall next to you, pinning you in position by his proximity. Completely towering over you.

"Care to explain what happened?" Max grumbled, fighting through his daze.

"I don't know what you mean." You whimpered.

"I'm not stupid. Your smell..." Max slowly leans his face near the crook of your neck. He growls under his breath after one whiff of your scent. "Unlike any pheromones I've smelled."

Max was now burying his face in your neck. You notice the screen on the wall about to stop on your floor. "Max!" You push him slightly, freeing yourself away from him.

You stepped out of the elevator, fighting for your life to stay sane and not get affected by Max's scent. Max's eyes were droopy and his lips were glistening.

Max had no control over his body. He was frustrated that he wasn't able to stop you from fleeing away from him. The farther you ran away, the more his daze faded. The doors of the elevator were now closed and continued to ride up the building.

He knew exactly what had happened. He heard about this from Checo and his parents. There was no denying that you were an Omega and the reason why the both of you had felt that way earlier was because the two of you were fated to meet.

You are his mate.

Next part: Part 4

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns.  His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before.  Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl.  “You’re on holiday—enjoy it.  We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster.  Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing.  I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat.  His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles.  He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything.  He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal.  A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest.  You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites.  “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede.  You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms.  “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes.  “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.  “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated.  He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh.  Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before.  You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air.  Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting.  “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it.  Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower.  You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take.  Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist.  Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms.  He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival.  Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs.  “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness.  “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair.  By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup.  You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes.  Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection.  It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less.  With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself.  He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable.  How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips.  “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there.  “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met.  “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.)  “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories.  It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh.  He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.  Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again.  He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night.  If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief.  You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck.  His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening.  “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades.  You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue.  “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke.  His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body.  Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves.  Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life.  You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!