#charles n brown

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

(trying to see what Neil has on his shirt in 1991... it's a skull isn't it? :D<3

@chrisondra-exists replied to your post “(trying to see what Neil has on his shirt in...”:

Pretty sure that's the Misfits band logo :D

ooh thank you! :D <3)

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[beiasluv]

— op81, cs55, cl16, ls2

a/n: spent so long on the graphic 💀

yourinsta

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yourinsta call me pitbull cuz I’m mr worldwide 🤫 (+🇦🇺🇪🇸🇲🇨🇺🇸)

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landonorris coppiers

yourinsta you’re my og 🫶

landonorris just og? 😔

username I swear if oscar gives us nothinggg

username MY BABY IS SHY OKAY?

username GOOD DAY TO BE A LOGAN SARGEANT FAN 🦅🦅🦅🦅

username I could only pray the Spanish flag is for Fernando 😩

— oscar piastri

Nervously sipping on his emotional support orange juice. Maybe too much nervous sipping.

“So, what’s your type?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Tell her she’s mine too.”

“WOw, will do.”

Cheeks turning red, munching on the fries like a little chipmunk he is.

“I mean– I have three sisters so…”

“That’s a green flag.”

“Thank you?” a piece of chicken in, a smile comes out. “That’s it?”

“Maybe if he’s…Australian, maybe.” you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And if he’s…wait. what sign are you?”

“Don’t know..I think it’s kinda nonsense.”

“That’s a red flag.”

“Sorry?” cheeky.

The orange juice was left unattended for a minute. Good sign. Chuckles were still evident.

“Let’s get serious here…” shifting in your seat.

“Yeah.”

“You drive for a living?”

“Yeah, I go around in circles ‘nd stuff,” juice pause. “I could drive you around Melbourne..if you’d want to–”

“And you’ll take me back by eight? Maybe offering your hand as well?”

“Yeah,” squinting face. “I could do that.”

“Lovely.”

— carlos sainz

Does that thing with his eyes, bending down to take the fries in…while keeping an intense eye contact.

“Smooth operator, you like that song?”

“Everyone favorite song no?”

“Hard choice.” pausing your fries mid air. “Spanish songs that I have no idea what they’re talking about could be up there.”

“Really? Tell me one.”

“The one from fast and furious.”

“A lot of them,” throwing his head back. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Asking for me to sing already. You’re in a hurry Carlos?” a sip of your Diet Coke. “Fast Five?”

“Eh..Danza Kuduro?”

“How could I know?” you shrugged. “What’s the song about anyways?”

“Something like…dancing…er…with tight ass.”

“Make sense.”

Looking confused as ever with that big, brown eyes. Mouth agape and shut every time few seconds, curling into a smile most of the time.

“So you’re still looking for job next year?”

“Huh?”

“Lewis Hamilton? Looking for job?”

“Eh..” leaned back in his seat. “Could be. Are you offering?”

“I’m a pretty busy girl..”

“Really? How busy?”

“So you’re up for it? That’s fast.”

“I’ll have to talk to my manager,” raising his eyebrow. “What is your requirement?”

“A Ferrari driver.”

“Sure.”

— charles leclerc

Trying to not laugh his ass off every five seconds or just completely blanks out. Chicken tasted good though.

“Charles, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you pronounce your last name?”

“I don’t..I don’t care, really.” Shrugging his shoulders. “Charles. Le. Clare.”

“Hm…maybe just use my last name instead, it’s easier.”

“I– yeah?”

“What?”

His chicken was pretty cleaned up the first few minutes. Plenty of confused chuckles.

“Do you think you are a committed person?”

“I…I…it’s a hard question no?” he put his hand together, in an Italian – sorry, Monegasque way. “I like to say I am.”

“I could tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Your contract with Ferrari.”

— logan sargeant

He was used to burger and fries but maybe he could just tolerate chicken and fries for your pretty company.

“What’s your ideal date?”

“Hm..definitely chicken shop dates.”

“Really? Where’s best chicken you ever had then?”

“This one.”

“That’s not an option.”

Subtle stares here and there, his cheeks might be hurting from all the grinning though.

“What’s your ideal type?” munching his ketchup-ed fries.

“So you don’t do researches.”

“I am now.”

“You know…starting to have a thing for Americans. You have any recommendations?”

“You could start by going fishing in the Keys with me,” stretched his arms.

“I’m not into fishy things.”

“Just boat rides?”

“I could do that.”

Coke break.

“Your thoughts on frat boys?”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged.

“And you’re not like a..secret member? Is it like a One Direction..thing?”

“Maybe better looking?” smirked. “I could see myself being one if I wasn’t racing.”

“Dreams do come true, Sargeant.”

“Ouch,” clutching his chest. “Ah– well– Maybe this other dream could come true as well?”

“You being better looking than One Direction?”

tell me who should be in chicken shop dateee 😩😩

– @namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3

Today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[c0eu4]

Charles speaking dirty in french🤭🤭🤭🤭

CL16 | Dirty boy ♡

Summary: Y/n keeps bothering her boyfriend until he gives in and shows her how to be a good girl.

Warning: dirty talk, smut, no protect sex, dom!Charles, sub!reader, mean!Charles, handcuffs, a bit of hitting (soft)

A/N: enjoy<3

Translation: mon amour= my love | Chéri.e= darling

MASTERLIST requests are open

She sits on his lap, her hand passing through his brown hair. ''Mon amour, I'm trying to work.'' If there are two things that the young woman loves, it's annoying her boyfriend when he's trying to work and his horribly sexy French accent.

She kisses his cheek, her other hand running over his abs through his t-shirt. He feels a shiver down his spine, but doesn't give in to temptation. ''Chérie, please.''

She doesn't listen to him and kiss the crook of his neck, nibbing it softly. His hand found its way to her waist, rubbing it softly. ''Don't you want to take a break?'' She let her hand go under his t-shirt, using her fingerstip to touch his abs.

He sighs, from pleasure? Annoying? She does not know but she doesn't care. Her hand under his t-shirt keeps going up, her mouth continuing to stimulate his neck by leaving a few red marks and lovebites.

He didn't push her away, trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him. He begins to feel tight in his pants, her ass wiggling against him and her fingertips tracing the vertical line of his abs.

His hand which was on her waist goes down to caress her ass, squeezing it softly. ''T'as envie que je te baise hein?'' you want me to fuck you, huh?

She doesn't understand what he said but can't help and moan softly against his soft skin. He grabs her jaw and forces her head up to kiss her. She moans into the kiss and Charles takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, caressing the inside of her cheeks.

She removes his headphone and places it on the desk, running her hand through his hair. He picks her up and moves her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed. ''Qu'est ce que je vais faire de toi?'' What am I going to do with you?

She feels the excitement build even more in her body, his accent completely turning her brain. ''Tu es si irrésistible..'' You're so irresistible.

He removes his t-shirt, finally revealing his abs that she loves to caress so much. ''Take off all of your clothes.'' His voice was firm yet sweet. She listens to him and takes off her clothes, revealing her underwear to him. ''I said all of your clothes.'' She can't help but blush, even though Charles has seen her naked so many times.

She takes off her last clothes and watches him rummage through the drawer of his nightstand.

''Is it ok if I tie your wrist to the bed?'' She bit her lower lips. ''Yes. You can do whatever you want with me, my love.''

Charles smirks, taking off two handcuffs from the drawer, deftly tying one end around one of her wrist, securing it to the headboard. He repeated this process with her other wrist, leaving her bound and vulnerable in front of him.

He takes his time to take off his pants and joins her in bed, getting on top of her and one of his hands already trailing between her thighs. ''Je parie que tu es toute mouillée, mh?'' I bet you're soaking, mh?

She whines, wanting him to touch her. ''Please.. Charlie..'' He chuckles, his cold hand touching her inner thighs. She can't help but move her hips to try and show him her impatience. His fingers move up slowly and he slides one finger between her wet folds. ''Toute mouillée et rien que pour moi.'' All wet and only for me.

She closes her eyes, trying to move her hands but can't. Her head fell back against the pillow with a long moan of his name when she felt his lips against her bundle of nerves.

She can't help but squirm with pleasure as he continues to stimulate her with his tongue. And just as she was about to cum, Charles suddenly stopped and moved his kisses back to her stomach.

''What the hell Charles!'' she shouted, frustrated. He laughs, kissing her ribs. His laugh is deep and dark, almost frightening.

He rubs himself against her wet fold, making her moan deeply. He can feel the wet through his boxer and it turns him so much on. ''Putain Y/n tu vas me faire jouir juste parce que t'es autant mouillée.'' Damn Y/n you're gonna make me cum just because of your wetness.

''Charles..I need you!'' She whines, shaking violently under him. He doesn't wait longer and takes off his boxer and thrust roughly into her tight and wet cunt.

''Merde.. t'es si serré..'' shit.. you're so tight..

He doesn't wait any longer to almost pull out and go back in roughly.

''Tu la prends si bien.'' You take it so well.

If he keeps talking like that, she'll probably cum faster than expected.

''Oh oui, t'es si bonne.. ma pute..'' Oh yes, you're so good.. my whore..

''Ch-Charles!'' She moaned loudly before cumming hardly around his cock. Charles takes it upon himself and holds back from cumming as he feels her walls tightening around his cock. He speeds up his movements, his hips hitting hers with a sensual sound of flesh smacking and a wet sound.

His hand hits the side of her thigh. ''Dit moi que tu m'appartient.'' Tell me you're mine.

She doesn't understand what he says and moans loudly, not having time to recover from her orgasm.

Charles hit her thigh a second time, this time leaving a red mark of his hand. ''Dit moi que you're mine!''

Her back arches a second time, her eyes filling with tears. ''I-I'm yours !'' He moaned loudly, but kept holding himself. ''En Français.'' in French.

The feeling is almost unbreathable and she can barely find her breath. ''Je..J-je appartiens.'' She managed to moan, with her sensual English accent.

''Putain oui..Bonne fille.. Mon jouet baisable préféré..'' Fuck yes.. good girl.. my favorite fucktoy..

Charles redoubles his efforts, showing his breathing and dumbbell physique in his thrusts. The room is filled with their moans. One of Charles' hands finds its way between her legs, playing with her clit.

She doesn't wait any longer to come brutally a second time, tears leave her eyes to roll down her cheeks.

''Oh oui.. serre moi fort..'' Oh yes.. tight me hard..

Charles continues to thrust inside her until he reaches his own climax, his hot seed feeling her up perfectly.

''Ah! Putain! Y/n! T'es trop bonne!'' Ah! Fuck! Y/n! You're too good!

He crashes into her, still being careful not to hurt her. After a few minutes of catching their breath, he pulls out of her with a wet noise and one last moan leaves her lips.

He unties her hands, massaging her wrist to relieve it. ''Ça va, mon chat?'' All good, my cat?

She turns around and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her head into his neck. ''That was great. As usual.''

He can't help but smirk, his hands rubbing her back. ''Je sais que t'aime bien quand je suis méchant avec toi..'' I know you like it when I'm mean with you..

One of his hand goes lower and gently strokes her red thigh. She kisses his neck, already nibbing on it again.

''Ready for round two?''

[elia-the-bibliophile]

The Paddock Princess Diaries (Dad! Charles Leclerc x Wife! Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 2k

Join Magalie Leclerc, a four-year-old who steals the hearts of the Formula 1 world as she accompanies her father, Charles Leclerc, to his race.

In their hotel room overlooking the scenic Ardennes forest, the morning sun peaked through the curtains, casting a comfortable glow upon the Leclerc family. Charles stood in front of the mirror, his usually impeccable hair staging a rebellion of its own, sticking out in every direction imaginable.

“Charles, sweetheart, we've got to hustle! The race isn't going to wait for your hair to behave,” Y/N called out from across the room, trying to stifle her laughter at her husband's wrestling match with his brown locks. Meanwhile she is gently nudging Magalie's tiny feet into her Ferrari-themed sneakers. The vibrant red of the shoes matched the excitement in the room.

“I know, I know, just a second,” Charles groaned, his frustration evident as he attempted to coax his stubborn strands into submission.

Y/N smirked. “Well, maybe you should have a chat with it, see if you can reason with it,” she suggested, earning a side eye glare from her husband.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he retorted before handing her the comb in defeat. “Here, you're the only one who can tame this wild beast.”

Grinning triumphantly, Y/N took up the challenge, expertly smoothing down his hair with exaggerated motion. As she worked, their eyes met in the mirror, a silent exchange passing between them. “There, much better! You almost look presentable now,” she teased which elicited a mortified gasp from Charles.

Magalie proudly showed off her Ferrari-themed outfit to her parents. “Regarde, Papa, Maman! Je suis prête pour la course!” she exclaimed in her adorable, still-learning French, her words a delightful jumble of accents and mispronunciations.

Charles laughed, swooping in to scoop her up into his arms. "Bravo, ma petite championne! You look très chic in your Ferrari gear,” he said with a wink, earning a giggle from his daughter.

As they made their way towards the door, Magalie suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“Papa, Maman, can Teddy come too?” she pleaded, her voice hopeful.

Charles and Y/N exchanged amused glances, charmed by their daughter's request. “Of course, honey,” Y/N replied with a smile. But only if Teddy promises to cheer loudly for Papa!”

Magalie's face lit up with delight, and she hugged her teddy bear. “Bien sûr, Maman! Teddy loves Ferrari too!” she exclaimed, her words punctuated by the enthusiastic nodding of her stuffed companion.

Chuckling at the adorable sight, Charles ruffled Magalie's hair affectionately. “Alright then, it's settled. Teddy can come along to keep you company,” he said, his heart swelling with love.

With Magalie clutching Teddy in one hand and Charles holding her other hand, the Leclercs set off, their laughter echoing through the hotel corridors.

__________________________________________

Mechanics scurried about, fine-tuning the scarlet machines, while engineers huddled around laptops, analyzing data and strategies for the upcoming race.

Magalie, clutching her teddy bear and sporting her Ferrari-themed outfit, drew immediate attention as soon as she stepped into the garage. The team members couldn't help but pause in their tasks to admire the adorable sight before them.

“Regardez, c'est la petite Magalie! Elle est trop mignonne!” exclaimed one of the mechanics, his eyes twinkling with delight as he knelt down to Magalie's level.

“She's like a mini-Charles, but even cuter!” another chimed in, a fond smile playing on his lips as he admired Magalie's outfit.

Magalie beamed at the attention, her cheeks flushing with pride. “Merci!” she replied shyly, her French accent adding to her charm as she clung tightly to her teddy bear.

The team members chuckled warmly, ruffling her hair and exchanging amused glances with each other. “Watch out, boys, we've got a future heartbreaker in our midst!” one of them joked, earning a chorus of laughter from the group.

As the Ferrari team members gathered around Magalie, she couldn't contain her excitement. With a gleam in her eye, she raised her tiny fist into the air, ready to unleash her rallying cry.

“Fowza Fewawi, sem-pwe!” she declared, her attempt at rolling the R's coming out more like a playful purr than a roar.

The garage erupted into laughter. “Close enough, Magalie! We'll work on those Rs later,” one of the mechanics joked.

Magalie giggled along with the team. “Forza Ferwawi!” she tried again, determination shining through despite her adorable mispronunciation.

Charles and Y/N exchanged amused glances, their hearts melting at their daughter's antics. “She's trying her best,” Charles whispered to Y/N, his voice filled with pride. And Y/N could swear that the man is on the verge of crying.

Magalie, not content with just her own cheering, looked down at her teddy bear and had a stroke of genius. With a toothy grin, she grabbed Teddy's arms and began moving them up and down in sync with her own cheers, creating a hilarious spectacle that had everyone in stitches.

Magalie Leclerc and her animated teddy bear became the unofficial mascots of the Ferrari team for the day. “Look at Teddy go!” someone exclaimed, while others clapped along to the makeshift cheer routine.

__________________________________________

As Y/N and Magalie settled into the Ferrari hospitality cafe, the lively atmosphere of the paddock enveloped them. Magalie took delighted sips from her baby chino, eyes sparkling as she soaked in the sights and sounds around her.

Suddenly, a familiar voice caught Y/N's attention, and she turned to see a friendly face approaching their table. “Y/N!” the voice exclaimed, belonging to Oliver Bearman.

“Ollie! It's great to see you,” Y/N greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join them at their table. “I did not expect you would be here”

Oliver took the seat opposite Y/N. “Well you can’t miss a Spa race.” he replied, his eyes lighting up as he glanced at Magalie. “And who is this little Ferrari fan?”

Y/N beamed with pride, placing a gentle hand on Magalie's shoulder. “This is Magalie. Charles finally agreed to bring her to a race. As you can see, she’s already a big fan of the sport.”

Magalie, sensing a new friend in Oliver, offered him a wave before taking another sip of her baby chino.

Oliver tilted his head curiously, “So, Magalie, do you want to be a racer like your Papa when you grow up?”

Magalie's face lit up at the question. Her little mind already cooking up something.

Y/N jumped in with a laugh. “She’s more of a water than land person. Oh, Ollie, you have no idea. Once she's in, Charles and I have to practically beg, plead, and promise her all the chocolates in the world just to get her out and dry,” she confessed.

Magalie nodded eagerly, “I want to be a swimming athlete,” she declared proudly, her arms flapping as she imagined herself gliding through the water.

Ollie chuckled as he imagined the scene of Charles and Y/N negotiating with their determined little swimmer. “A swimming athlete, huh? Well, you'll definitely make quite the splash in the pool.”

“That's right! I'll be the fastest fish in the sea!” she proclaimed, her imagination running wild with visions of swimming glory.

Magalie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to Oliver, her voice filled with eager anticipation. “Oncle Ollie, will you train me to be the best swimmer ever?”

Ollie’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, uh, Magalie, I have to admit, I'm not much of a swimmer,” he confessed.

Magalie's face fell for a moment, disappointment flickering across her features.

“I'll cheer for you from the sidelines like nobody's business," he promised, trying to lift up her mood.

__________________________________________

The Belgian circuit buzzed with excitement as Charles Leclerc zipped around the track during qualifying. It is no surprise either when he got the pole position.

Charles embraced his daughter tightly as she clung to him, her tiny hands clutching his racing suit. “Did you see, Papa? You were so fast!” Magalie exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

He beamed down at her. “Yes, Magalie, I did it for you,” he said, lifting her up so she could see the world from his perspective. “This pole position is for you.”

Magalie's eyes sparkled with delight as she recounted Charles with tales of her encounter. “Regarde, Papa! I met Ollie!”.

Charles's heart skipped a beat as he listened to Magalie's tale. “Oh là là! Mon dieu!” he exclaimed dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “But Magalie, pourquoi Ollie? Tu préfères Ollie à ton papa?” he lamented, feigning devastation.

Magalie giggled, not quite understanding her father's theatrics. “We talked about racing, Papa! Ollie showed me his helmet and let me sit in his simulator,” her enthusiasm contagious.

Y/N chimed in. “And they discussed their favorite ice cream flavors too! Magalie was convinced that chocolate chip is the best,” she added, shooting Charles a playful grin.

Charles gasped. “Mon cœur! Mon âme! Comment peux-tu, Magalie?" he almost visibly flinch. “You prefer chocolate chip over my delicious homemade vanilla ice cream? Sacrebleu!”.

As the chatter in the hospitality club continued, Ollie casually strolled by, his charisma lighting up the room. With a theatrical flourish, he shot Ollie a mock-serious glare.

“Don't even think about stealing my daughter's heart,” Charles declared in mock seriousness.

Ollie, always one to play along, raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. “Oh, Charles, you wound me,” he replied, feigning offense. “I would never dream of it.”

Y/N, already accustomed to her husband’s flair for the dramatic, simply rolled her eyes with a fond smile, shaking her head in amusement.

But Charles wasn't finished yet. He launched into a series of grandiose tales, regaling them with exaggerated accounts of his own racing triumphs. Each story seemed to grow taller and more fantastical than the last, as Charles spun elaborate yarns of daring maneuvers and impossible victories.

Ollie played along, his laughter mingling with Charles's, as the two drivers engaged in a friendly competition of one-upmanship. Magalie watched with wide-eyed fascination.

As the playful banter reached its climax, Charles turned to Magalie. “Magalie, ma chérie, who do you think is more handsome: Papa or Ollie?” he asked.

Magalie's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected question. “Um... Ollie!” she blurted out, her decision made with the innocence of a child.

Gasping dramatically, he clutched his chest as if struck by a sudden heart attack, his eyes widening in horror. “Mon Dieu! Ma propre fille me trahit!“ he exclaimed, his voice trembling with despair. “To think that my own flesh and blood would choose Ollie over her beloved Papa! C'est tragique!”

Y/N’s amusement bubbling over into uncontrollable giggles. “Charles, tu es si dramatique,” she teased.

__________________________________________

As the cameras pivot towards Magalie, she sits in Y/N's arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The journalists approach, their questions carefully curated for the young spectator.

“Well, hello there, Magalie! How are you finding your first race?” A journalist from Sky Sport greets her with a warm smile.

Magalie beams. “It's amazing! Papa goes really fast!” Her tiny hands gesture wildly, trying to capture the speed of the cars.

Y/N chuckles softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Magalie's face. “Yes, he does, sweetheart. What's been your favorite part so far?”

“When the cars go zoom, zoom, zoom!!” she exclaims, her arms mimicking the motions on the track.

Another journalist, this one appears to be from beIN SPORTS, charmed by Magalie's animated gestures, joins in. “How about your Papa getting pole position today? What do you think about that?”

Her face lights up with pride, smile reaching ear to ear. “I knew he would win! He's the best!”

Y/N motions for them to wrap up the questions soon, and they all nodded in understanding.

“One last thing, Magalie, do you have a message for all the Ferrari fans who are watching this race?” someone inquires from the back.

“To all the Ferrari fans,” she begins, “thank you for cheering for My Papa! He loves you all very much, and he's going to win for you!”

As the interviews wrap up, one of the journalists can't resist bestowing a title for Magalie.

“Well, folks, it looks like we've found our newest addition to the paddock royalty! Introducing... Magalie Leclerc, the Paddock Princess!” The journalist announces.

Magalie glances up at Y/N, who beams with pride at her daughter. “Paddock Princess, huh?” Y/N muses. "I think that has a nice ring to it, your royal highness.”

“If I am a princess, then that means you are the queen, Maman.”

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Overprotective Dad

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (y/n)

Warnings: google translate spanish..

Girl Dad Carlos series continues, enjoy!

Carlos, Charles and Pierre participated in the World Stars Football match. It was a charity football match and it was happening tonight so you and your now three year old daughter Bea decided to go with Carlos and cheer for him.

It was no secret that Carlos loved football and is an avid fan of Real Madrid, so the fact that his wife and daughter will be watching him play tonight made him all too excited.

"Están mis niñas listas?" Carlos asks entering Bea's room where the two of you were getting her ready. (Are my girls ready?)

"All done! Go show daddy what you're wearing." You say as you tighten the red ribbon on her tiny curly ponytail and put her down from your lap. Bea excitedly runs towards Carlos and spins around in front of him showing him the small grey Ferrari sweatshirt that had Sainz written in big red letters on the back and number 55 on the front in the right top corner of the sweatshirt.

"Wow, mi amor, eres hermosa." Carlos says picking her up in his arms and kissing her chubby cheek that was blushing. Bea was a truly girly little girl and she loved compliments and attention especially from Carlos. And Carlos being the best girl dad in the world loved spoiling her. "What does it say on your back?" He asks her.

"Sainz" You whisper to remind her.

"Sainz" And she repeats after you.

"Are you gonna cheer for papa tonight?"

"Yes!!" She screams clapping her hands.

"Did you show him you hair?" You ask stepping closer to them and fixing the ribbon on her hair.

"Let me see." She quickly turns her head and reaches for her ponytail for him to see. "Ayy, maravillosa!" (Gorgeous!)

You put on your long trench coat and high heel boots and Carlos took his backpack and Bea into his arms. Soon you were out the door on your way to the stadium. Since it was big event with a lot of famous athletes, there was a ton of reporters impatiently waiting for them to arrive.

As soon as you saw it, mild anxiety washed over you. You got used to it by now, but you didn't like them taking pictures of Bea. So far you have successfully kept your three-year-old out of the media eye. It's not that you were hiding her, but you didn't like them sharing pictures of her all over the internet.

Besides, as much as Bea is an extrovert and loves attention, she's still just a little kid who gets terrified of a crowd of strangers shouting in her face. And that's exactly what happened this time.

As soon as you got out of the car they spotted you and the camera flashes went off like crazy. You took a deep breath opening the back door of the car to get Bea out of her seat. Carlos stood behind you with the backpack in his hand and held the door of the car open.

"Come here, baby" You say unbuckling her belt as she stretched her arms towards you. Bea already noticed from the car that something was happening outside. They were calling for you shouting your names out loud and she was very confused about who these people are and how do they know her name.

You positioned her on your hip and tightly wrapped your arms around her. At first her big brown eyes widened watching all those people standing in your way as you started walking towards the stadium. Carlos had his arm around you as you walked close to him, but you were struggling because it was hard to see clearly from the flashes and in addition to all that, you were wearing high heel boots and holding your child.

"Mama.." You could hear Bea's heart pounding against your chest and it didn't take long for her to burst into tears. It all became too much for her.

"Baby, it's okay shh.." You tried, but it didn't help and you completely understood why. "Oh my God, I'm gonna trip and fall"

"Give me her" Carlos slung his backpack over his shoulder and stopped walking for a second to take her from your arms into his.

"Are you okay? Hold on to me." He asked you and you quickly gave him a nod. She hid her face into his neck and you held on to his arm as you started walking again.

You could feel Carlos slowly starting to fume with anger because they scared and made his little girl cry, and she was so excited to come here and watch her daddy play. You tightened your grip on him trying to calm him down, but once one of them tried to shove their camera into her face, Carlos was about to lose it. He was not having any of that.

"Do that one more time and I'll smash the fucking camera against your head you fucking piece of shit" He stopped in tracks, his brown eyes darkened. If he hadn't been holding Bea, he would have punched him for sure.

"Carlos, no please" You said pulling him away.

When you finally managed to make your way through the crowd and reach the inside of the stadium you ran into Charles.

"The Sainz family!" Charles yelled smiling, but he quickly noticed something was wrong.

"Just give us a second please." Carlos said to him as you two stood to the side to calm Bea down. "Bebe, it's okay, you're safe, daddy wouldn't let anything happen to you" He said softly wiping her tears away and placing a kiss on her cheek. After a few minutes of comforting, the tears dried up and the sweet smile returned to her face.

"Papi no nos dejes" She said quietly playing with the collar of his t-shirt. (Daddy, don't leave us)

"No bebe, tu y mami vendrán conmigo. Vas a apoyar a papá, sí?" Carlos said tickling her tummy making her laugh and nod in agreement. (No baby, you and mommy will come with me. You're going to cheer for dad, okay?)

"We'll be daddy's loudest cheerleaders, okay?" You said gently pinching her cheek.

"Y más hermosas" (and the most beautiful)

[verstappen-cult]

# WAVE OF YOU | CL16

Charles is spending summer in Australia with his friends when he meets a very pretty girl and her dog at the beach.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader Content Warnings: A little meet-cute, just pure fluff! And Pierre being a menace for like a second.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : i saw the video and an idea popped into my mind, you can’t blame me for being weak. this is just a little silly meet-cute because your girl can’t stop thinking about surfer!charles. save me surfer!charles, save me !! i’m thinking about turning this into a series, would you like that?

You never thought you’d be living in Australia in your twenties. You honestly never thought about leaving your hometown to follow your dreams. Yet, here you are, sitting on the sand on a quiet morning, playing with the golden retriever you adopted two weeks ago. She comes running back to you, leaving the tennis ball at your feet and sitting, patiently waiting for you to throw the ball again. 

“You never get tired, uh?” She tilts her head, tongue out and breathing heavily. You throw the ball into the water and she immediately runs back for it. 

You take the opportunity to look around. It’s still a little early so there aren’t many people, a few people walking their dogs or running, a few surfers and a group of girls a few meters away. You notice that they can’t stop looking at the group of boys in the water trying to catch waves. It’s funny, because you used to be exactly like them when you were a teen. 

They’re talking and — despite knowing you shouldn’t — you pay close attention to what they’re saying. 

“Last week he smiled at me, I swear!” One of them says, twirling her hair while still straight ahead. 

“They’re so hot.” You try not to laugh, hiding a smile by turning your head around. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen the group of boys, but it is the first time that you pay attention to what people actually say about them, and that makes you a little bit curious. 

There are five guys in the water, two of them are sitting on their surfboard talking while the other two chase waves. You notice that the fifth guy is actually getting out of the water, blue surfboard under his right arm as he looks at the dog looking up at him and wagging its tail. Your dog. 

“Daisy!” You call her but she doesn’t move, she just looks at you from her spot next to the man. You get up and start walking towards her when the stranger looks up at you. And you stop breathing for a second, face turning pink as you feel bright, green eyes boring into you. 

You agree with the teenage girls about them being hot because this man is definitely very attractive. He’s wearing a black wetsuit, you notice as he runs his hand through his messy, wet, brown hair. He’s also smiling. At you. 

He crouches to unhook the surfboard’s leash from his ankle, leaving it aside, and pets Daisy behind her ears. She closes her eyes and moves closer to the stranger. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you again, still smiling. 

“Hey, Daisy? You wanna play?” He has an accent that makes you weak in the knees. The stranger takes Daisy’s ball from between her paws and throws it a few meters away, and she immediately runs back for it. “She’s cute.” You’re very cute, he thinks.

You smile because you don’t know what else to do, still very much feeling frozen in place. 

“I’m Charles, nice to meet you.” The stranger—Charles reaches out a hand, you look at it for a beat before taking it gently to shake. If you feel sparks flying, nobody needs to know that. 

You swallow, trying to find your voice before the cute guy thinks you’re weird. “I’m Y/N and,” You feel Daisy’s nose nudging at your leg. “this is Daisy.” You say, looking down at her.

Charles crouches back down to take the ball again, this time not breaking eye contact, and throws it into the water. You feel yourself blushing — again !! — under his intense gaze. You also feel your insides burning and going crazy with butterflies. You curse under your breath because what is wrong with you? 

“You come here often?” He cringes after saying that and you’re pretty sure you see a faint blush adorning his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before.” 

“Oh, I adopted her two weeks ago, so we're pretty new to the beach.” You explain, looking over his shoulder at your little golden playing in the water. You’re gonna have one hell of a time trying to get rid of the salt water and sand of her hair. 

He smiles again and what the hell? He has dimples? 

“You’re not from here, right? I can hear a little accent…” He blurts out, massaging his neck in a nervous manner. 

“I just moved here a few months ago.” You laugh, fidgeting with your fingers. “I can say the same thing about you.”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m from Monaco. I’m visiting a friend for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” When Daisy comes running back, you’re quick to pick up the ball — to have something to do besides looking at his pretty green eyes — and throw it farther just because it’s good that she’s running and having fun, definitely not because you want to keep talking with Charles. 

“What brought you to Australia?” Charles asks, like he's genuinely interested. 

“It’s silly, really.” You break eye contact after what feels like an eternity looking into his eyes. “I just wanted to see more of the world. I’ve been traveling for the past two years but I feel like it’s time to settle down somewhere.” Charles nods along, listening to every word. “I don’t know if Australia is the place for me but,” You shrug. You’ve grown and gained experiences, you’ve traveled to places you never thought you’d visit; you are happy with your life. You want to experience a different kind of thing now. “so far I like it here.”

“That’s awesome!” Charles has traveled the world too, but he doesn’t see himself leaving Monaco and his family. But he understands the desire to see new places and discover new cultures.

“Charlie!” 

You both turn your head around to see the boys he was surfing with coming out of the water. 

“Those are my friends. I’m sorry for whatever they’re going to say.”

You laugh, whispering a ‘don’t worry’ just before you’re joined by the four guys. 

“Oi, who’s this?” A dark-haired guy asks, crouching to pet Daisy. 

“That’s Daisy,” Charles answers before moving to stand beside you. “and this is Y/N.”

The four boys look between you and Charles in silence, then they’re all waving at you.

Charles leans a little closer, and you hold your breath. “That’s Dani,” He points to the same guy who asked about Daisy. Then he points to a curly-haired boy wearing a pair of pink shorts. “that one is Lando and the one next to him is Max.” 

“So, how do you find my boy Charles here?” A guy with French accent teases you. 

“And that’s Pierre. Don’t listen to him.” Charles sends death glares at his friend, who just holds his palms up in surrender and grins. 

“We need to go,” Lando or Max? says, looking at his friend with pity and mouthing a ‘sorry’.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N!” All of them say, making you laugh. You wave at them.

Then, you and Charles are alone again, Daisy lying on the sand in front of you.

“So,” Charles starts, fighting really hard not to look at your lips. He does a very poor job because you notice anyway, and of course you can’t help but wet your lips. Well, you have to do something, you’re probably not gonna see him again. “I have to go. But it was nice chatting with you.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his bicep and squeezing. And God, okay, he’s actually fit, fit. 

“It was nice meeting you, Charlie.”

Charles smirks, winking. Or at least trying to before grabbing his surfboard and walking away, it takes you a great effort to not turn around. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

You’re just a girl. 

Charles is walking backwards, a bright smile dancing on his lips. 

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

You try not to show how much effect his words have on you. “I don’t know,” You shrug. Playing hard to get now, really? “Come and you’ll see.”

[pucksandpower]

Blow Out the Candles

Charles Leclerc x birthday girl!Reader

Summary: the many ways that you and Charles celebrate your birthday throughout the years

Warnings: vague depictions of childbirth and labor

It’s my birthday today so this is my gift to you 🫶

You let out a long sigh as you lean back against the cold concrete wall of the holding cell. This is not exactly how you pictured spending your birthday weekend.

The heavy steel door clangs shut behind you, the sound echoing in the cramped space. Looking around, you take in the sparse furnishings — a bench along one wall, a grimy leaking sink in the corner, and a single window so dirty that it barely lets in any light.

Charming.

You hear voices and footsteps approaching. Keys jangle and the door swings open again. A police officer steps aside and another person stumbles into the cell.

He looks to be about your age or a little older, with messy brown hair and a bewildered expression. The officer mumbles something about “sorting this out shortly” before slamming the door closed once more.

The new arrival blinks in confusion before noticing you sitting on the bench. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he says with an accent you can’t quite place. French, maybe? He runs a hand through his tousled hair sheepishly.

You give a wry smile. “Don’t worry about it. I take it you’re joining me for the complimentary holding cell experience?”

He chuckles, leaning back against the wall across from you. “Yeah, something like that. I’m Charles.”

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, cellmate.”

Charles grins, and you can’t help but notice how his nose crinkles up when he smiles. It’s kind of adorable. “The pleasure is mine,” he says gallantly, giving a theatrical little bow that makes you laugh.

“So Charles, what terrible crime did you commit to land yourself in this lovely establishment?” You ask with mock seriousness.

He smirks. “Would you believe me if I said jaywalking?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirms. “I was trying to get to the bakery before they sold out of croissants. I may have darted across the street … outside of the crosswalk.” He shakes his head ruefully. “The things I do for pastries.”

You have to laugh. “A real menace to society, you are.”

He grins again. “What about you? Don’t tell me you’re in for armed robbery or something.”

“Me? No way,” you scoff. “I was taking the metro downtown and I may have … accidentally used an expired metro card. The transit cops dragged me off at the next stop. I tried to explain it was an honest mistake but they weren’t having it.”

“Ah, a hardened criminal!” Charles exclaims in mock horror, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Clearly. Us lawbreakers need to stick together,” you joke.

You both erupt into laughter, the sound ringing brightly in the dreary holding cell.

As your laughter subsides, Charles regards you curiously. “So do you make a habit of riding the metro with expired cards, Y/N?”

You make a face. “No, I just grabbed the wrong card in my wallet this morning. I was rushing to get downtown and didn’t even think to check.”

“Why were you in such a hurry?”

You hesitate. The real reason seems kind of silly now that you’re stuck in a jail cell. “It’s my birthday today,” you explain with a self-conscious shrug. “I was meeting some friends for brunch downtown to celebrate. Guess I’m going to be late for that.”

“It’s your birthday?” Charles’ eyes widen. “Well, happy birthday!”

You crack a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck in here for your birthday,” he says sympathetically. “That really sucks.”

You give another shrug. “Honestly, this will make for a pretty funny story later. Not exactly how I wanted to spend today, but what can you do?”

Charles nods thoughtfully. A moment later his face lights up. “I know what we can do! Since we’re stuck in this lovely cell, we should have our own little birthday celebration. I can sing for you!”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised but charmed by the offer. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s your birthday, of course I do!” He insists.

Clearing his throat theatrically, he launches into an enthusiastic, if not exactly tuneful, rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

His voice echoes off the concrete walls as he gesticulates dramatically, getting really into it by the second verse. You can’t help giggling as he puts his whole heart into hitting the high notes.

By the time he finishes with a flourish, you’re both laughing again.

“That was amazing, thank you,” you tell him, still chuckling.

He gives an exaggerated bow. “My pleasure, birthday girl. Sorry I don’t have a cake to go with the song.”

You grin. “That’s okay. 10 out of 10 performance.”

Charles smiles, looking adorably pleased with himself.

You regard him thoughtfully. “You know, you really didn’t have to do that. Singing for a total stranger in a holding cell.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to. You seemed like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Well, it worked. I definitely feel better.” You study him for a moment. “You’re pretty strange, Charles.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs.

You shake your head amusedly. You have to admit, you’re really enjoying his company. For someone you just met under bizarre circumstances, he’s remarkably easy to talk to.

Charles checks his watch. “I hope they let us out of here soon. Those croissants are calling my name.”

“And I’ve got mimosas waiting for me,” you add.

As if on cue, footsteps sound outside. You both look up expectantly as keys rattle in the lock.

The door swings open and the officer from before steps in. “Alright you two, come with me. We got it all sorted out, you’re free to go.”

You share a relieved look with Charles as you both follow the officer out. After a quick stop to collect your belongings, you step outside into the sunshine.

Charles turns to you with a smile. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy birthday again!”

“Thanks, Charles.” You smile warmly at your strange but lovely cellmate. “This turned out to be a pretty memorable birthday after all.”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad I could help make it special. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

With a little wave he heads off down the street, presumably in search of those croissants. You watch him go, struck by an impulse.

“Charles, wait up!” You call out, jogging to catch up with him.

He turns, looking at you curiously.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for making a crappy situation fun,” you tell him sincerely. “And, if you want, you’re welcome to come join me and my friends for brunch.”

His eyes light up in surprise. “Really?”

You nod. “It’s the least I can do after you serenaded me in jail,” you joke. “Plus, I’m sure the restaurant will have croissants.”

Charles smiles broadly. “Well in that case, I would love to.”

“Great!” You beam, linking your arm through his. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

You sink back into the plush leather seat, gazing out the jet’s window at the twinkling stars dotting the endless expanse of sky. This is definitely a step up from last year’s jail cell birthday celebration.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

You smile up at the flight attendant as she offers you a crystal flute. “Yes please!”

Charles grins at you from across the cabin. “And please keep it coming, my girlfriend deserves to be spoiled on her birthday.”

You still get butterflies every time he calls you his girlfriend. This past year with Charles has been amazing. After that fateful day, he easily slotted himself into your life. What started as an impromptu brunch turned into real dates, which turned into a real relationship. You’ve never clicked with someone so quickly or felt so comfortable so soon.

Now here you are, celebrating your birthday at 11,000 meters aboard a private jet chartered from one of Ferrari’s sponsors. You had balked at the extravagance at first, but Charles insisted. “It’s your special day, we have to do something incredible!”

You take a sip of crisp champagne, the bubbles tickling your nose. “So where exactly are we headed?”

Charles has kept your destination a surprise. “You’ll see soon, birthday girl,” he says with a wink.

You pretend to pout. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

He just laughs. “Trust me, it’s going to be an amazing trip.”

You don’t doubt it. Charles has a knack for making every day feel special and fun. Even just being cooped up in this plane with him feels like an adventure.

As the flight continues, you enjoy a decadent five course dinner complete with even more champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Charles keeps you laughing with silly stories and jokes. By the time you finish eating you have to stifle a yawn behind your hand.

“Someone’s getting sleepy,” Charles teases.

“It’s been a long exciting day!” You say through another yawn.

Charles grins and hits the call button. A flight attendant appears instantly. “Yes sir?”

“I think it’s time to get the birthday girl to bed,” Charles says.

The attendant nods and pulls back a partition, revealing a plush bedroom suite.

Your eyes widen in delighted surprise. “Wha … we can sleep in an actual bed on the plane?”

“Only the best for you,” Charles says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You happily snuggle under the covers in the sumptuous bed, sighing contentedly. “Okay, this is an amazing birthday present.”

Charles chuckles, sliding in beside you and pulling you close. “The fun is only beginning, mon cœur.”

Within minutes you’re sound asleep curled up in his arms.

Sometime later you stir slowly awake, momentarily confused. The bedroom is dark and Charles is shaking your shoulder gently.

“Wake up, chérie. It’s almost midnight!” He says excitedly.

You rub your eyes and peer blearily at the clock. 11:58 pm. “Why, what happens at midnight?”

“Your birthday starts again!”

You look at him blankly, still not fully awake.

He grins. “We just crossed into a new time zone. Which means ...” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I get to be the first to wish you happy birthday again!”

As it clicks you start laughing. Only Charles would come up with something so adorable. You watch the clock count down the last seconds to midnight as he bounces giddily on the bed.

“Happy birthday!” Charles exclaims right on cue, tackling you in a hug.

You hug him back, still laughing. “You’re crazy, but thank you.”

He beams down at you. “I have so much planned, it’s going to take more than one time zone to celebrate properly.”

Over the next few hours, you dip in and out of sleep as Charles wakes you at each new midnight. Every time he sings and wishes you happy birthday again with infectious enthusiasm. By the fifth round you’re both delirious and silly from lack of sleep, belting out drunk duets of “Happy Birthday” and collapsing into giggles.

Finally he lets you sleep through until morning. When you emerge from the bedroom, blinking in the bright daylight, you gasp. Out the window is an ocean of clouds and in the distance, a tiny island just coming into view.

You turn to Charles with wide eyes. “Are we … is that ...”

He grins and wraps his arms around you. “Welcome to St. Barts! I wanted your birthday to be paradise.”

“Every day with you is paradise.” You kiss him soundly. “Thank you, this is the most magical birthday I could’ve imagined.”

Charles trails his fingers over your cheek. “You deserve magic every single day. I’m just doing my part to make sure you get it.”

***

You stir awake to soft kisses trailing down your neck. Opening your eyes, you find Charles gazing down at you, his brown hair endearingly rumpled.

“Happy birthday, mon ange,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum contentedly, running your fingers through his messy locks. “Mmm, now this is a nice way to wake up.”

Charles gives you his signature crinkly-nosed grin. “I have so much planned for your special day.”

Your heart flutters happily. After two amazing years with Charles, the connection between the two of you feels more intense than ever. You can’t wait to celebrate.

But his smile turns apologetic. “Well, so much planned for after the car launch.”

You nod in understanding. Charles has commitments. And today the new Scuderia Ferrari car is being unveiled in a highly anticipated event.

Charles kisses your pouting lip. “I’m so sorry, ma belle. I wish I could get out of it but-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” you assure him, silencing his worries with a kiss. “I know how important the launch is for the team. I’ll just miss you today.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I promise, as soon as it’s over I’m all yours.”

You spend a blissful morning lazing in bed, laughing over crepes Charles attempts to make for your birthday breakfast. Flour ends up more on him than in the pan, but you happily eat the lumpy results.

Too soon it’s time for Charles to leave for the launch. At the door he pulls you into his arms. “I love you. This evening will be perfect, I swear.”

You smile up at him. “Love you too. Go show off that new car.”

After one more lingering kiss he’s off. You distract yourself by meeting local friends for birthday lunch. But your mind keeps drifting to Charles. You hope the event is going well for him.

By mid afternoon you’re back in Charles’ Maranello apartment, curled up on the couch watching silly movies. You’ve just bitten into a slice of birthday cake when your phone rings.

It’s Charles FaceTiming you, his handsome face filling the screen. “Hi, mon amour!”

You grin at your adorable fiancé. “Hey you! How’s the launch going?”

“It’s good!” His eyes drop to your plate. “Are you eating cake without me?” He gasps in mock outrage.

You giggle. “Only a tiny cheat slice. Don’t worry, there’s plenty left for when you’re home.”

Voices sound faintly behind Charles and he glances over his shoulder. “Ah, the program is starting again soon. I just wanted to see your beautiful face.”

You blow him a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

“I love you!” He says before the call ends.

Snuggling back into the couch, you focus on the movie again. But a notification keeps pinging on your phone. You glance over to see texts flooding in from Charles.

Can you watch the livestream?

The link is all over social media

It’s starting again soon 😘

You go on Instagram and click the link curiously. The livestream shows an auditorium packed with press, Ferrari team members, fans, and VIPs. Cameras flash as Charles takes the stage along with his teammate and team principal. They talk about the new car but you mostly just stare lovingly at Charles’ dimples on the big screen.

After the speeches, they unveil the sleek new car. Your heart swells with pride for Charles. But you can’t wait for all the events and obligations to be over. You miss him.

The hosts invite Charles to say a few words. He steps up to the microphone, smiling. “Thank you all for being here today. I’m so excited to get behind the wheel of this beautiful SF-26 ...”

He continues talking passionately about the team and the season ahead. But then his eyes flick to the camera broadcasting the feed. “Oh, I also have a very special announcement.”

You sit up, intrigued. Charles winks at the camera. “As some of you may know, today is my wonderful girlfriend Y/N’s birthday.”

Your eyes widen. You have no idea what he’s doing but it makes your heart flutter.

“So to celebrate this amazing woman, I thought we could all join together to wish her a very happy birthday.”

Charles starts singing “Happy Birthday,” looking straight at the camera with so much love. The crowd joins in, the whole auditorium singing to you. You stare in overwhelmed wonder as Charles blows you a kiss.

When the song ends, the audience claps wildly. Charles grins. “I hope you enjoyed your serenade, mon cœur. I can’t wait to celebrate you properly tonight. Happy birthday, I love you!”

The livestream switches off and you sit staring at your phone in shock. Trust Charles to orchestrate something so thoughtful and adorable. Only he could turn a huge unrelated event into a birthday present.

A few hours later, the front door finally bursts open. Charles rushes in and sweeps you into his arms.

“Surprise!” He laughs, spinning you in a circle.

You hug him tightly. “Charles, that was the sweetest thing ever!”

He beams. “I wanted you to feel special today even though I couldn’t be with you. Did you like it?”

“Like it? I loved it!” You punctuate each word with a smacking kiss.

Charles looks immensely pleased. “Good, because the celebrations are just beginning. Now, I believe I was promised cake?”

You spend the evening feeding each other cake and laughing over champagne. Charles serenades you again, because one impromptu singalong just wasn’t enough for him.

As you sway together, slow dancing in the kitchen, you whisper, “Best birthday ever.”

Charles smiles and pulls you closer. “We’ll make every birthday together your best one yet. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

Your heart swells with joy. No matter where life takes you both, with Charles every birthday is celebrated to the fullest.

***

A salty ocean breeze ruffles your hair as you gaze out over the glittering turquoise water. The sun is sinking low, painting the sky in dazzling pinks and oranges.

You sigh contentedly, snuggling back against Charles’ chest. His arms tighten around you as you sway together on the yacht’s deck.

“Happy birthday, mon ange,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

You tilt your head back to smile up at him. “I know I say this every year, but this is the best birthday ever.”

Charles grins, his nose crinkling adorably. “Well you deserve the perfect birthday getaway.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly relaxed and blissful here in his arms. Charles always plans the most romantic adventures for your birthdays. But after three amazing years together, just being with your favorite person is celebration enough.

As the sun continues to set you chat and trade soft kisses. The conversation lulls eventually into comfortable silence.

Charles shifts behind you. “Y/N, can you turn around? There’s something I want to ask you.”

You swivel in his arms to face him, curious at his suddenly serious tone. But a radiant smile lights up his face.

Slowly, Charles sinks down to one knee before you. Your breath catches as he takes your hands in his.

“Mon amour, these past three years with you have been the happiest of my life. You are my best friend, my heart, my home. I want to laugh with you, explore the world with you, and grow old with you.” His eyes shine with emotion as he gazes up at you.

“So Y/N, will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?”

Joyful tears fill your eyes. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face splits into the most delighted grin. He moves to stand but wobbles slightly, the boat swaying beneath the two of you.

You reach out to steady him. “Careful!”

“Sorry, just excited,” he laughs breathlessly. With exaggerated care he pulls a ring box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring.

Your smile widens impossibly further. The sunset lights the gems ablaze from within.

Charles takes your left hand gingerly, his own hands trembling. “I hope you lik-”

But his unsteady fingers fumble and the ring slips from his grasp. You both gasp, hands shooting out too late to catch it. The diamonds glint once in the dying sunlight before plopping into the blue water.

“No!” Charles cries in horror. In a flash he’s scrambling to rip off his shoes and shirt. Before you can react, he’s diving in after the lost ring.

“Charles!” You rush to the railing, scanning the rippling surface for him. Bubbles appear where he dove down. The seconds stretch nerve-wrackingly until finally he surfaces, gasping for breath. In his clutched fist, the ring gleams triumphantly.

Relief crashes over you as Charles swims to the ladder. He clambers back aboard the boat, soaked and panting but grinning ear to ear.

“I got it!” He crows, holding up the retrieved ring.

A delighted laugh bursts from you. Only Charles would dive headfirst off a yacht to save an engagement ring. You throw your arms around his dripping shoulders, not caring that you’re getting drenched too.

“My hero,” you kiss him soundly.

Charles wraps you in a soggy hug. “Couldn’t let this ring get away when I still have a very important question to ask you … again.”

He sinks down once more to his knee, water pooling around him. With his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes soaked through, he looks adorably bedraggled but still so breathtakingly handsome.

Grasping your hand again, he asks earnestly, “Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?”

“Yes!” You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so wide. “Yes, Charles, yes!”

Charles whoops triumphantly, surging up to kiss you passionately. This time his hands are steady as he finally successfully slips the ring onto your finger.

Admiring the shimmering diamonds you joke, “This ring might need a free cleaning after that swim.”

Charles laughs, pulling you close again. “I’ll get you a new one if you want. Anything for my future wife.”

Wife.

The word sends a thrill through you. You cup Charles’ face in your hands. “This is the only ring I’ll ever want. Because it’s from you.”

His eyes soften. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You lean in for another searing kiss as the last light fades behind the horizon.

When you finally draw back Charles wrinkles his nose. “As romantic as this is, I should probably get into some dry clothes.”

You laugh, plucking at his soaked shirt. “Good call. Then we can continue this celebration in proper style!”

Charles grins and sweeps you up into his arms. “I like the way you think, Future Madame Leclerc.”

***

“One more push, you’re almost there!”

You squeeze Charles’ hand with all your might, face scrunched in exertion, as you bear down to bring your baby into the world.

This is not exactly how you envisioned spending your birthday this year. But as you give one final push and hear your daughter’s first cries, you know this is already the best birthday of your life.

“She’s here! You did amazing, mon amour!” Charles says through joyful tears, kissing your sweat-damp forehead.

The doctor holds up the squalling, wriggling newborn. “Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

Charles cuts the umbilical cord with shaky hands before the nurses whisk your daughter away to be cleaned and checked. He turns back to you, eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. She’s perfect.”

You beam tiredly back at him. The child you created together, your little family, is finally here. After long months of waiting, your birthday wish has come true.

Soon the nurse returns, swaddling your baby girl in a soft pink blanket. “Say hello to your daughter,” she says gently, placing the tiny bundle in your arms.

You gaze down at your daughter, tears of joy and wonder sliding down your cheeks. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes — she’s absolute perfection.

“Hello Juliette,” you whisper. “Happy birthday, my beautiful girl.”

Charles perches gingerly on the edge of the bed, staring at you both like you hung the moon and stars. He reaches out a tentative finger to stroke Juliette’s downy head.

“She’s so small,” he marvels. “And so perfect. I can’t believe we made this little human.”

His voice cracks on the last word. Your tough Formula 1 driver melts into a puddle of emotion in the presence of his daughter.

You glance up at Charles, your husband, your soulmate, and now the father of your child. The utter love and joy shining from his eyes in this moment eclipses every birthday and every milestone you’ve shared before.

“I used to think so many birthdays were the best day of my life,” you say softly. “But now … this is it. The real best day.”

Charles smiles through his tears and leans in to kiss you tenderly. “This is just the start of so many best days together.”

You both gaze back down at the baby nestled between you. Juliette blinks up at you tiredly and the sight of her green eyes looking back at you takes your breath away.

Charles lets out an awed little laugh. “She has my eyes.”

He holds out a hand and Juliette instinctively grasps his finger. Charles completely melts.

“Hello, ma petite princesse,” he coos. “I’m your papa. And I’m going to love you forever.”

Juliette seems to study his face intently before giving a big yawn that makes you both chuckle. Your heart feels fit to burst watching Charles bond instantly with your daughter.

The next hours pass in a blissful blur of feeding, diaper changes, and stealing each moment possible to just gaze at the miracle you’ve created. You almost forget it’s even your birthday until Charles speaks up.

“You know, I had something else planned to celebrate today but Juliette decided she simply couldn’t wait,” he laughs.

You just smile. “This is the greatest gift I could have asked for.”

He leans down to brush a feather-light kiss to Juliette’s forehead, then yours.

“I guess we’ll just have to plan an extra special party when you’re both home,” he says with a smile. “Our little princess deserves the biggest birthday bash for entering the world on such a special day.”

You grin up at him. “I have a feeling her daddy will go all out.”

“Only the best for my girls.” Charles winks.

Juliette stirs in your arms, letting out the tiniest of baby sighs that melts you both instantly.

As Juliette drifts to sleep cradled between you, her little fingers curled around yours, you know this birthday marks the start of your greatest adventure yet and many more amazing birthdays still to come.

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

[thatsdemko]

drought - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!

a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.

he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.

Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.

the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.

it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.

“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.

“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.

“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.

he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”

you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.

his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.

“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.

“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.

he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”

a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”

—

you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.

she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.

she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.

it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.

he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.

pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”

you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

“when we get home—“

“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.

“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”

“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.

you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.

your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.

“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.

“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.

“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“

“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.

“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.

“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”

you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.

“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.

your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.

sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.

you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.

he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.

“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.

“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.

you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”

[its-avalon-08]

Ok so this is a bit unique tbh, but can you write a story about being alexandra saint mleux's sister can falling for lando norris??? like you love charles and alex because THEYRE SO CUTE and u end up falling for lando. include alot of fluff anf cuteness. Thanks!

stop it ily so much for this! i adore adore adore charles and alexandra and omg have u seen his recent post? because leo the puppy u are ily so much what the heck! ok so here is my attempt at making this AMAZING request come true!

paddock love (ln4)

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

y/n watched with a grin as charles spun her sister alexandra around in a clumsy waltz, their laughter echoing through the posh monegasque apartment. "ugh, you two are giving me cavities," you teased, collapsing onto a plush sofa.

alexandra, cheeks flushed, swatted playfully at charles. "mind you, y/n, you could find yourself a love story in the paddock too, you know."

you scoffed. "yeah, right. like any f1 driver has time for a normal person like me."

suddenly, the apartment door swung open, revealing a grinning lando norris and carlos sainz. "speaking of normal people," lando winked at you, his blue eyes sparkling. "ready for that movie night, y/n?"

your cheeks warmed. lando had been relentlessly charming ever since you'd met at a charity gala a few weeks ago. he always seemed to find a way to compliment your outfit, your laugh, or even just the way you handled a plate of hors d'oeuvres. it was...disarming.

flashback

the air crackled with nervous energy as you nervously adjusted your borrowed gown. attending a charity gala with your sister, alexandra, a rising wag in the f1 world, was exciting, terrifying, and utterly overwhelming. just as you were about to retreat to the bathroom for the tenth time that night, alexandra materialized beside you, a triumphant grin splitting her face.

"there you are! come meet someone," she said, dragging you towards a group where charles leclerc was holding court, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"y/n, this is lando," charles announced, gesturing towards a tall, lanky figure with a mop of floppy brown hair. "lando, this is my amazing girlfriend, alexandra, and her equally amazing sister, y/n."

lando's smile was like sunshine breaking through clouds. his blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he extended a hand towards you. "amazing is definitely the word for it," he said, his voice a charming mix of british and something vaguely exotic. "it's lovely to meet you, y/n."

you felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you shook his hand. his touch sent a jolt through you, a strange combination of warmth and nervous electricity.

"likewise," you stammered, suddenly hyperaware of the borrowed dress that seemed to suddenly itch everywhere.

alexandra, ever the social butterfly, nudged you playfully. "so, y/n, tell lando about your photography!"

you, relieved for the distraction, launched into a passionate explanation of your latest project, a series capturing the hidden beauty of everyday objects. lando listened intently, his head tilted to one side, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the photos you were showing him on your phone.

"wow, this one is incredible," he said, pointing at a shot of a chipped teacup bathed in warm sunlight. "it's like you found magic in the ordinary."

you beamed. "that's exactly what i'm trying to do!"

the conversation flowed easily from there. you discovered a shared love for vintage cameras and a mutual disdain for overcooked canapés. lando, it turned out, was as funny as he was charming, his quick wit leaving you breathless with laughter.

as the night wore on, alexandra and charles discreetly wandered off, leaving you and lando deep in conversation about the perfect lighting for capturing a raindrop mid-fall.

"so," lando said finally, a playful glint in his eyes, "i hear you're a bit of a photography whiz. maybe you could give me some pointers on capturing the perfect pit stop action shot sometime?"

"me? at a race track?" you couldn't help but laugh. the world of formula one seemed about as far removed from your quiet life as possible.

"why not?" lando shrugged, his grin widening. "besides, charles tells me you make a mean cup of tea. maybe a post-race debriefing is in order?"

the invitation hung in the air, a silent dare. you hesitated, then a slow smile spread across your face.

"alright, lando norris," you said, a playful challenge in your voice. "challenge accepted."

flashback ended

"uh, yeah, sure," you stammered, gathering your things. "see you guys later."

alexandra leaned in conspiratorially. "have fun! and y/n?"

you raised an eyebrow.

"don't be afraid to give him a chance. he might surprise you."

the movie night was...something. lando insisted on a ridiculous rom-com, complete with over-the-top declarations of love and pratfalls that had you snorting with laughter. halfway through, he paused the movie, leaning close.

"you have the most incredible laugh," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

your cheeks burned. "thanks," you mumbled, looking away.

he chuckled. "is it just the movie, or are you actually starting to blush around me, y/n?"

you swatted him playfully. "maybe a little. but don't get any ideas, lando norizz."

he grinned, unfazed. "ideas are kind of my specialty. so, here's one: how about we ditch this cheesy movie and grab some gelato? my treat, of course."

you hesitated. this was ridiculous. lando norris was a formula one driver, a celebrity living in a world of fast cars and glamorous parties. what did he want with a regular girl like you?

but his smile was so genuine, his eyes so warm, that something inside you melted. "alright," you agreed, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

the gelato shop was a whirlwind of laughter and stolen glances. lando teased you about your ridiculous cone of every flavor imaginable, then pretended to steal a lick. you chased him around the shop, ending up breathless and giggly.

as you walked back to the apartment, the moon casting a silvery glow on the streets, a comfortable silence settled between you. lando stopped, turning to face you.

"you know," he said softly. "you're more fun than any trophy i've ever won."

your heart skipped a beat. he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "maybe alexandra was right," he whispered, his lips hovering tantalizingly close.

before you could even think about it, you closed the gap, meeting his kiss halfway. it was soft, playful, filled with the promise of something more.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, lando grinned.

"so," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "does this mean there's a chance for a "normal guy" like me?"

you couldn't help but laugh. "maybe," you teased. "but only if you promise to keep surprising me."

he leaned in again, his voice a husky murmur. "consider it a done deal."

and under the watchful gaze of the moon, a new love story bloomed, a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can happen with the most ordinary people.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more! thanks for reading!

leave a like, leave a comment!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[vivwritesfics]

Mrs Baker, Ma'am

Landoscar's girlfriend loved to bake and all of the grid love when she brings her baked goods to the paddock

Y/N loved the Monaco Grand Prix for just a few reasons. One, it was the race set where she lived, meaning she was familiar with the surroundings and she could sleep in her own bed the night before the race. Two, she could watch the practices from her balcony with her cat on her lap and coffee in her hands. Three, she got to rock up to the paddock with a basket full of baked goods.

Maybe that was why Lando and Oscar fell in love with her. Because Y/N always had some sort of baked good ready for them. While Lando was gaming, she’d be teaching Oscar to bake and presenting the results to Lando. Fans loved when it happened while Lando was streaming. They loved nothing more than watching a blushing Oscar walking into the room with a tray full of cookies. His cheeks would be red while Lando took a cookie from the tray and moaned while he ate it.

The rest of the paddock had also expressed their love for Y/N’s baking. Carlos had been the first to try her baking when he and Lando were teammates. When he moved to Ferrari, Carlos found himself wanting some of Y/N’s baked goods and telling Charles all about them.

Y/N found herself strolling towards the Ferrari garage the next day, a container full of biscuits, muffins and cookies tucked under her arms. It was kind of funny, actually. The Ferrari boys had been talking about it in a press conference and Y/N had seen it and gone out to get ingredients that day. She’d spent her night baking, thankful that she and Lando were staying in an apartment, not a hotel, in Australia.

And then when Daniel had become Lando’s teammate, Y/N had brought him something baked almost every grand prix. From there the news of her baking had spread around the paddock, since Daniel was friends with everybody.

Y/N began bringing her baked goods whenever the grand prix was in Monaco. If she happened to make too much, she’d take some over to Charles or Max in their apartments.

This time, Y/N had two baskets of baked goods on her arms. She strode through the paddock in her best trousers and a cute vest top. She couldn’t stop from smiling as she walked into the McLaren garage.

Zac Brown was the first to spot her. Her, and the basket of baked goods. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he walked her further into the garage.

“Hey, Zac,” she said, holding out one of the baskets.

After Zac picked out a cupcake, Y/N put the basket down. She greeted more of the McLaren staff and directed them towards the basket of baked goods. She had everything, croissants, pain au chocolats, cupcakes, doughnuts, muffins, cookies, and biscuits. At the bottom of the basket was some fudge she had made, just in case there weren’t enough baked goods for everybody.

Once those working in the McLaren garage were working through her basket of baked goods, Y/N made her way out of the McLaren garage and headed off to Red Bull.

There were just twenty pastries in this basket. On Monaco weekends, Y/N gave out what she could and brought more the next day, giving pastries to as many people in as many teams as possible. Drivers got her pastries on a Saturday and everybody else got them on the Sunday. Everybody else included wags and whoever else got to her first. There was one time where Martin Brundle got completely sidetracked when he went to talk to Lando and ended up with one of Y/N’s pastries.

Max was nowhere to be seen, so Y/N went over to Sergio Perez, who was talking to his engineers. She waited for him to finish up before offering him a cookie. And then she went off to Max’s driver room, after asking Christian where he was.

She knocked on the door and waited for confirmation before walking in. Max’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “If I didn’t have a wonderful girlfriend, I’d be jealous of Lando and Oscar,” he said and gratefully accepted a chocolate chip muffin.

Y/N moved on, walking towards the Ferrari garage. Carlos seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N and her baked goods, and spun on his heel and marched over to her, a wide grin on his face. “pequeño pollo,” he said and wrapped his arms around her. Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of her head, wearing heart eyes as he picked out the pastry he wanted.

She offered Charles a pastry and moved onto Mercedes. Y/N went from garage to garage, greeting the drivers her boyfriends called their friends and offering them a cookie or a cake or something. Each and every driver was grateful.

And last, after giving Fernando and Lance two of the last pastries, Y/N made her way back to McLaren. She strode into the garage, the mechanics, engineers and strategists giving her compliments on her baking skills.

Y/N grinned and thanked them, making her way to where her boyfriends were talking to their boss. When Zac saw her, he trailed off and the boys turned around.

Oscar was the first to spot her. He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pastries. “Have you been making your rounds?” He asked her.

Nodding her head, Y/N kissed his cheek. “I’ve got two left for you and Lan,” she said.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Oscar walked Y/N over to Lando and Zac. She smiled at the CEO, who immediately began complimenting her on the cupcake. “And the fudge? Oh my god, it was next level,” Zac said. He then left them to it, walking back over to the basket to look for more fudge.

YN looked at her boyfriends and held the basket up in front of her. The boys reached inside, Lando pulling out a chocolate filled croissant and Oscar pulling out a cookie. “Thank you, baby,” Lando said and reached forward to kiss her. Oscar did the same and broke off a piece of cookie to share with her.

Y/N spent the rest of the Monaco grand prix with her boyfriends either tucked into Lando’s side or holding Oscar’s hand. After the qualifying, Y/N took her boyfriends home and rewarded them with another round of baked goods. On race day she brought enough for the WAGS and other team principles. She made another batch of fudge for Zac Brown and Zac Brown only.

All of the paddock were slightly jealous of Lando and Oscar, and their girlfriend who loved to bake. If she was bringing her baked goods to the grand prix, they could keep their jealousy at bay.

[lewisvinga]

my strong girl | lewis hamilton x fem! chronically ill! reader

summary; after an incident during a race, y/n is sent to the hospital and is upset about missing his race after not attending races for months. fortunately for her, lewis is always understanding

fc; various girls on pinterest

word count; 1k

warnings; hospitals, needles, fainting

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; requested ! lewis was so close to a podium i actually was so upset🙁🙁🙁 anyways, i tried to combine a few of the ideas into this without it being superrrr hectic

masterlist !

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“Are you sure you want to come? You don’t need to feel pressured to do so.” Lewis asked in the soft tone that always brought Y/n comfort.

She sighed as he helped her put on her blue Ralph Lauren cardigan. “I’m sure, Lew. I don’t want to miss your home race.” She huffed, watching him grab her white golden gooses.

“Just be careful today. I hate that I can’t be around you the whole time.” Lewis quietly said. He helps her out on her shoes, securely tying the white laces.

“I know, I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Y/n really tried her best to be careful. She only walked a few minutes to grab stuff around Lewis’ driver's room. If she went longer distances, she used her wheelchair and one of the girlfriends of the drivers would happily walk by her side to accompany her.

While Lewis was doing media duties before the race, she hung out with Carmen and Lily. The two girls had lunch but Y/n wasn’t hungry so she decided to not eat. A big mistake for her.

She could only chat with Lewis for a few minutes before he had to get into his car. A couple of good luck kisses later, and his car was being driven out of the garage for the warm-up lap.

Silverstone was always special. It was Lewis’s home race and most importantly, his last home race with Mercedes. He was starting in pole after a fantastic qualifying session. The rainy weather allowed him to push the car to its limits.

Y/n started to feel a bit strange, like something was up but she ignored it for anxiety as the race began. Lewis had a fantastic start to the race and maintained being in first.

Around halfway through the race, Y/n felt well enough to get up from her wheelchair in the usual spot in the back of the garage. Although she usually refrained from walking due to getting tired so easily as a result of her illness, she decided that she felt well enough to at least a couple of steps in.

It was the final five laps and Lewis was still in first with a large gap between him and Charles, his future teammate, who was in second. However, instead of feeling joy about the British driver leading the race and being close to his 104th win, she started to feel like something was off.

Y/n needed to sit back down but her wheelchair was in the farthest corner of the Mercedes garage. Carmen had called out her name in concern but it sounded muffled as she struggled to stand upright. Before she knew it, everything went dark.

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The sound of beeping and the feeling of a familiar pair of fingers rubbing over her hand was what Y/n first noticed as she gained consciousness. The bedsheets crinkled as she slowly moved around, hearing a soft shush as she whined.

“Easy there, my love.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she’s met with Lewis’s deep brown eyes. She immediately noticed he was in a pair of sweats with a trophy sitting by his side.

“Did I miss it?” She asked with a raspy voice. She knew the answer of course. A wave of guilt washed over her. Lewis immediately noticed her furrowed-up eyebrows as she glanced at the iv sticking out of her hand.

“I care more about whether or not you’re okay, my love.” He sighed, gently cupping her cheek to make her look at him. “This win was for you, my strong girl.”

“Not strong enough to last 5 minutes standing up.” Her angry mumble made him let out a chuckle. He leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.

“Doctors said you had low blood sugar. You hit your head, no concussion but they want to keep you here overnight just in case something happens due to your illness.”

Y/n huffed at the mention of staying overnight at the hospital. Sure, she was used to it due to her illness, but she just wanted to be in the comfort of her home in the arms of Lewis. Her furrowed-up eyebrows made him laugh again.

She hadn’t noticed an overnight back resting next to the first-place trophy on the ground. He reached for it and pulled out a sketchbook, a few tubes of paint, and a couple of paintbrushes. Her previous furrowed-up eyebrows immediately relaxed. She relaxed back into the pillows as he opened up the sketchbook to an empty page.

Painting was once a passion of Y/n. She has grown quite a large platform for her work. She adored being able to translate everything in her mind onto a canvas with the stroke of her paintbrush.

Unfortunately due to her illness causing pain in her hand joints, she had to give up the intricate paintings. On occasions when she found herself stuck in the hospital, Lewis would always bring her sketchbook. Although she couldn’t do the once complex strokes and liked, she could do a simplified version.

“Lew,” Her voice was soft and frail. Her hand reached out to grasp his. “You didn’t have to do this. You should be celebrating your win.” She mumbled, slowly reaching over to tuck a braid that had fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear.

“Nonsense,” Lewis looked up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I much rather be relaxed and painting here with you than be out with drunk people who only want to be around me for the pictures.”

Y/n sighed as the corner of her lips curled into a smile. He handed her a paintbrush before squeezing a couple of colors on the small plastic palette he had brought. He leaned over, cupping her cheek in pulled her in close. He gently kissed her plump lips and couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you, my strong girl.”

“And I love you, my 104x race winner.”

[lenoraah]

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

pairing - charles leclerc x best friend! (turned lover) reader

summary - charles decides that he finally wants some normalcy in his life, that’s when reader and her best friend take it on their own hands to make it the most normal date that charles has ever been on. that is until charles blows off his date, realizing that he can no longer hide his emotions and feelings for his best friend

a/n - best friends to lovers, one of my least favorite tropes what this just seemed right. and as usual the best friend will be named (Ines) p.s reading is kind of rushed :)

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“No,”

“Why not?”

“Because Charles, normal people don’t wear a full five piece suit on a first date.” Y/n makes a face and Ines snort laughs at the sight of the Monegasque driver.

Charles groans as Y/n tugs at his tie and makes another face.

“Well I don’t know what to wear.” Charles plops down on the armchair behind him and crosses his arms with a pout on his face.

Ines and Y/n share a look before slowly starting to nod. Ines gets up and the two stand right in front of Charles with a smug smile on their faces.

“No, no, no. I don’t like this look,” Charles rapidly shakes his head as the two best friends in front of him keep nodding.

Y/n and Ines waste no time in dragging Charles into their enormous walk-in closet. Charles gets thrown into a chair the moment they enter the room.

The brunette spends the next ten minutes listening to Y/n and Ines mumble and completing why he agreed let Y/n help them with his first ‘normal date’.

“Here,” Y/n tosses Charles pair of jeans.

“And this,” Ines throws him a vintage sweatshirt.

“Layer the sweatshirt over the dress shirt, and leave everything untucked from the jeans. And also your perfectly white sneakers.” Y/n rolls her eyes at the last part and Charles can’t help but grin.

Ines and Y/n ushers for the Monegasque to change and they settle into the two armchairs. The y/h/c girl keeps quiet as she gently grazes Charles suit jacket making Ines raise an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” Y/n shakes her head and nods with a stiff look on her face.

“No you’re not,” Ines sighs and gets up from her seat. She crosses her arms and stands in front of Y/n with an unimpressed look on her face.

“I am completely fine, I have no idea with you’re talking about.” Y/n sits up and drapes Charles’s jacket over the chair next to him.

“I don’t think so,” Ines rolls her eyes. “You’re upset that Charles is going on a date and you’re not the one his going with.”

“I- I am not.” Y/n scoffs but hesitantly looks away, avoiding Ines’s gaze.

The brown haired girl ignores her comments and mumbles something in Spanish that Y/n can’t understand.

“Y/n, admit it.”

“No,”

“Say it,”

“No I don’t,”

“Admit it, say that you like Charles.” Ines grabs Y/n and shakes her by her shoulders.

“Fine, fine, I do.” Y/n says in between laughter. “Please stop shaking me.”

“Hah, I knew it.” Ines immediately lets go of her and quietly yells something in Spanish.

Y/n scowls but smiles a little, glad to have the pressure taken off her chest.

“You have to tell him,”

“What? Nessie, I can’t.” Y/n scowls at the idea and punches Ines in the arm.

Ines whimpers and rubs her arm as she walks away from the y/h/c girl, looking at a rack of coats and making an interesting face at a sequin jacket.

Y/n groans as she buries her face in her hands, bringing her knees to her chest.

“How do I look?” Charles enter the room with the rest of his suit in his hand. Ines glances at Y/n before grabbing all pieces of Charles’s suit and a few hangers before leaving the two of them alone.

“Well, this is just another outfit that proves that I can style better than you.” Y/n teases as Charles looks at himself in the mirror.

The two of them stay like that for moment. The two staring at him in the mirror.

So awkward.

Charles adjusts his bracelets as Y/n runs a hand through her hair. Just as Charles is about to open his mouth, his phone buzzes and that gets both of their attentions.

“I think it’s time you go,” Y/n pushes Charles towards the door with a nervous little laugh.

“Y/n-”

“Nope, your date is waiting and you don’t want to be late. Remember Charles, normal people dating.”

“Y/n/n, wait.”

Ugh the nickname.

Y/n nods and bites down on her inner check, trying to not make it obvious that she is one step closer to blushing if Charles does one more cute or swoon-worthy thing.

“I’ll text you later,” Charles mumbles and Y/n can only keep nodding.

“Uh, huh okay, bye now.” Y/n shoves him out the door and waves with a stupid smile on her face that make Ines, who is watching from the kitchen, face palm.

“I’ll be thinking of you, thanks for everything.”

“Neat, bye now. Text me everything later,” Y/n slams the door close and sighs in relief, only to be greeted with Ines’s horror-filled face and her opening a book and gripping it tightly.

“Neat,”

“Yes, that is what you said.” Ines says with an unreadable look on her face as she aggressively flips the page.

“Oh my God, he said he would thinking of me, Ines. And I said neat,” Y/n sits down at the counter and groans into her hands.

“Yep, I don’t know if what I said to Joseph on our first date after he said he wanted to see me again is worse or this.”

“Didn’t you thank him?” Y/n scrunches her eyebrows together.

Ines sighs as she slams her book close, “I fucking thanked him.”

————————————————————————

So, so stupid.

Y/n groans as she lays down on the floor, her phone thrown halfway across the room. The constant buzzing is killing her.

It’s either Ines asking her a million questions or Charles texting her about the date. Either way we doesn’t want to hear from neither of them.

The y/h/c girl has a pout on her face as she watches Kat’s poem from 10 Things I Hate About You. She tries her best to not cry as she has a crackly face mask on.

As Y/n’s about to have a pity party for herself she, the doorbell rings and she groans once again.

She swings the door open which an annoyed expression on her face.

“What? Wait- Charles? What are you going here?” Y/n tries to keep a straight face as her eyes widen at the sight of her best friend standing at her door with his hands stuffed in his pockets while looking down at the floor.

“I- uh- Came to see you?” Charles smiles awkwardly as he sways from side to side trying to not laugh as he sees the green mixture covering her face.

“Right, uh huh. You know what, we both know neither of us can take anything seriously with this on my face. So give me a minute,” Y/n runs off once again with a nervous laugh, grabbing Charles’s hand and pushing him onto the couch before slamming the door shut.

Charles sits there for a couple minutes before Y/n walked a back into the room.

“So, tell me about your date?”

“I ditched,”

“What?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Charles murmurs, looking down.

Y/n’s eyes rolls to the back of her head for a minute before she sits up straight and stares right into Charles’s green eyes.

“I- I like you too?”

“You do?” Charles inches closer towards her face and she nods with a sheepish smile on her face.

“I like you too,”

The two lean in for a kiss and everything was going so well and-

Damn it Ines.

“What?”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Joseph owes me so much money!”

[poppyflower-22]

are you taking requests? saw you're multi so i thought id send anyway but its so random,

estabished lando x reader on race day and tom blyth is on the paddock for silverstone and reader gets excited bc she loved him on tbosas and lando gets jealous?

Jealous Jealous

Side note: I've never written on tumbler before. Only Wattpad, so don't judge if this is bad.

Also, I added she is Max's sister because I like reading and writing siter brother bonds.

There’s probably spelling errors and grammar mistakes, but I wrote this in a night.

Lando 24, reader 22. (Dating 1 year but not discussed) Masterlist

When Lando met Y/n, he knew she was a fan of the Hunger Games movies. She loved them a lot. She had read all the books. Everything.

So when the new one came out Lando took her to see it even if he had never really seen one of the previous movies.

Let's just say y/n was hooked onto the main guy who played Coriolanus.

It was something Lando didn't really know about. But he thought nothing of it as it was highly unlikely that they would See this Tom Blyth fellow at a race.

Five months after the movie was released, Lando had completely forgotten about his girlfriend's crush.

It was race day at the Silverstone track. Lando and y/n walked into the paddock hand and hand, smiling at the fans that where there.

Y/n gasped and stoped suddenly. Lando frowned confused on why you girlfriend stoped.

"What's wrong?" He frowned and followed her eye sight to see a man in dark jeans and a dark shirt. Shaggy brown hair. "Who's that?" He asked slightly jealous at the way his girlfriend was looking at the man.

Y/n slapped him on the arm lightly, not looking away from Tom. "That's Tom Blyth. The guy who played Coriolanus Snow in the new hunger games movie." She explained to him. Gushing over him.

"Ahha." He made a face of recolonisation. When they watched the new movie y/n was obsessed with Coriolanus Snow and gushed about how Tom was a good actor to play him.

"I'm going to say hi." She spoke suddenly kissing his cheek and sleeping over to Tom who smiled at the girl.

Lando watch with his arms crosed. It's not that he didn't trust y/n it was that Tom guy. He watched as he placed his arm around her waist for a picture and he clenched his jaw.

He wouldn't say anything because it would only make her sad. He hated the way her face lit up as he asked her a question. Jealousy was sweeping in through his veins.

Max, who was walking down the paddock saw his sisters boyfriend frowning and followed his eye sight.

He laughed knowing Y/n liked Coriolanus Snow and extension to who played him.

"No need to be jealous." Max commented as he pattered Lando's shoulder shaking the boy from his thoughts.

"I'm not." Lando scoffed and went back to watching his girlfriend as she bid the Brit goodbye.

"Say that to your clenched jaw and your posture." Max chuckled just as y/n was standing in front of them.

"Max." She beamed and kissed him on the cheek. Y/n looked over at Lando with a happy face. "Tom said he was coming tot he McLaren garage. So I said he could stand with me." She gushed.

"How wonderful." Lando smiled at her in fake happiness.

Max chuckled watching them walk away knowing jealous Lando is a funny Lando. He had seen Lando get jealous when guys would come up to her in the clubs.

Lando clenched his jaw hard as he watch Tom make y/n laugh and throw he head back in laughter.

All day y/n had been showing Tom around. And when she was with Lando a bit, all she talked about was Tom and how he filmied Billy The Kid in the snowny mountains.

Charles had teased him about it but backed of seeing the anger in his eyes.

Lando was suited up and ready for the race and was talking to Will. He knew driving like this was a bad idea. Being frustrated beofer a race, never good.

He was normally a jealous guy but he also knew no one could match up to him. But this Tom guy could.

He was handsome. Older. The Verstappen's had a thing for older people. (🤭) Y/n only being 22.

Lando took a deep breath knowing y/n would never cheat on him. Or do anything like that to jeopardise there relationship.

Zak was about to ask Lando a question when Lando pushed his helmet into Will's hand abruptly and stored over to y/n.

"-and then he gave me all thease roses-" y/n was cut of from talking to Tom as Lando grabbed her hand and basically yanked her to his driver's room. "Hey!" She yelled.

Lando ignored her until he pushed her lightly into his driver's room.

"What was that for? I was talking to Tom." Y/n asked closing her arms watching Lando as he signed and then clenched his jaw.

"Do you like this Tom Blyth guy?" He blurted out.

Y/n frowned confused, not knowing what he was talking about. "What?"

Lando signed annoyed, "All day you have been hanging out with him. Laughing with him. Just Tom, Tom Tom." He ranted.

"That dosnt mean I like him." She told her Brit boyfriend.

Lando shook his head, "You barely spent the day with me."

"Your racing today Lan."

"So." He pondered crosing his arms.

Y/n laughed suddenly knowing what he was feeling. "Your jealous." She stated.

Lando shook his head. "I am not." He refused in a child's way.

"There's nothing to be jealous of. We were just talking. That's it." Y/n assured him.

"You looked pretty happy with him." He told her with a frown.

Y/n matched that frown and crosed her arms, now a little angry. "Jesus Lan, we were just talking. Yes I have a crush on him but that's only because we just watched hunger games." She sighed uncrosing her arms and looking away. "We actually have alot in common. As friends. He also has a girlfriend."

Lando looked away from her. Y/n sugged her shoulders with a sly smile, "Well he dose have nice hair though." She couldn’t help but teased.

Lando's head snapped to her direction. "No way. You can't love his hair. You love my hair." He refused making his way over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

That was true. Y/n loved Lando’s hair. She had helped him keep his curls more healthy looking. Y/n loved to play with his as well as Lando loved it when she pulled his hair during sex.

Y/n sighed and pulled him into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

"I'm jealous." He confused. When y/n tried to pull back he refused and held onto her longer. "I'm scared that you'll leave me for someone older. You said when we first got together your type was older men and you liked British people."

Lando dl tightened his hold on her a little, "I don't want to lose you."

Lando was insured about losing the only person he loved more in the world, other then his family.

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, she finally pulled away from Lando and put her hands on his cheeks. "I do like older men. I do like British men. But I love you." She spoke softly. She smiled at him, making him smile back. "You are the man I will always come home to. You are the one I love. No one, not even a crush I have will stop that because that's it. A crush." She told Lando.

"I love you." Lando smiled kissing her on the lips. Y/n smiled through the kiss.

"I love you." She replied breathless when they parted.

Lando signed and rested his head on her forehead. "I'm sorry for accusing you of liking that guy."

"You mean Tom." Y/n giggled.

"Hmm." He hummed, not caring of his name.

"God Lando." She checked, kissing his cheek before stepping away from him. "Now go out there and race." She giggled as he led then out of his driver's room.

When they got back to the garage Will looked over at them and Lando shot him a thumbs up to indicate it was all good.

Lando turned to his girlfriend. "But do stay with Lilly or something." He pleaded.

Y/n giggled. "Sure." She kissed Lando again beofer he was called over to his engineer. She would do it to ease his nerves and insecurities.

As y/n steped next to Lilly, Tom looked over at her and shot her a smile. She shot a small one back, before talking to Lilly.

Yes she loves Tom Blyth as a crush but her true heart belongs to Lando. He had nothing to worry about, ever.

He would be the one she spend the rest of her life with. What she didn’t known was a ring was resting in Lando’s bed side table. A ring that would sit on her left hand at the end of the year.

<><>

[herasversion]

Professional athlete?

Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: A relaxing day at the beach takes an unexpected turn when you lay eyes on the worst athlete you've ever seen.

A/N: No use off y/n reader is a female but gender is not specifed. 668 words and a few words in bad french no other warnings are needed.

masterlist

Alright, you have to admit to yourself that you're not a professional athlete, but the handsome man at the front of the beach most certainly isn't one either. I mean, you're not a great football player, but he is somehow way worse.

But the most incredible aspect of it all is that he doesn't even look ugly while doing it, although I suppose it is difficult to look ugly while doing it if you have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, with dimples and a six-pack.

And there's a certain charm to watching him fail to score a goal. After all, the rest of his friends are definitely not ugly either. I mean, you're almost tempted to post about them on TikTok or walk up to them and ask if being hot is a requirement for being friends with them.

As you relish in watching youre beach crush with brunette hair fail to score a goal, you suddenly hear a laugh next to you. You turn your head to look at your friend. "What, he's hot! Yes, and terrible at football," she laughs. "Like you haven't been looking at the guy with brown eyes who can score a goal," I say as I laugh.

As you relish in watching your beach crush with brunette hair fail to score a goal, you suddenly hear a laugh next to you. You turn your head to look at your friend. "What, he's hot! Yes, and terrible at football," she says as she laughs. "Like you haven't been looking at the guy with brown eyes who can score a goal," you say as you laugh.

Shit! There goes your cocktail all over you." As you turn your head to watch what hit your cocktail, you see the cute guy with the dimples walking over with the football in hand and a panic-stricken look.

Fuck, sorry," he says as he fluffs up his beautiful hair. "My friends aren't very good at football.

As you hear him speak, you realize that he has a beautiful accent. Until you remember what he said: "Your friends aren't very good at football." You question him.

What?" he says with a confused puppy look accompanied by a smirk, as if he knows why I am questioning him. "Well, I watched you play, and your friends don't really seem to be the problem," I say with a smile. "You've been watching me play, mon cheri?" he questions with a smirk.

As I fluster and try to come up with a response, my friend laughs. Well, she laughs until brown eyes comes up and smiles at her. Then she also flusters. He laughs and shouts, "You're coming with the ball, Charles, or are you staying with the beautiful ladies?´´Charles, what a fitting name I decide, Charles sends his friend a grimacing look, and I say, "I'm coming. Someone needs to beat you, Carlos," I laugh as I watch them stumble away.

Scratch that friend part about him and Carlos because this game seems a lot less friendly. I also see my friend looking at the scene with a panicked look in her eyes. I decide enough is enough and look at my friend, saying, "Let's go back to the bar until we witness someone break a bone." My friend gives me a doubting look until we see a lanky blond go down crying.

As we are walking to the bar, I am suddenly stopped by a shout, "Mon cheri, where are you going?" I look back and see Charles looking at me. I laugh and roll my eyes, showing my glass, and say, "I am getting a refill." He smiles back and says, "Ah, good, but come back. You need to see me win, mon cheri." "Your win, Carlos?" scoffs. He looks at my friend and says, "Don't worry, princesa, you'll watch me win.

My friend rolls her eyes, grabs my arm, and pulls me to the bar, saying, "Come on, I need a strong drink to watch this mating dance. Honestly, who are they trying to impress?" You I say with a laugh and order us a drink. She laughs and blushes, and I tease her. As we get our drinks, I say, "Come on, let's watch the sequel to the mating dance.

As we walk to our place at the beach, I notice that the football game is a lot less active. Well, it was a lot less active until they noticed us, it seems.

Just as we are sitting down, I suddenly hear a scream. I look up and notice it is Charles. Before I even notice what I am doing, I am walking to him and crouching next to him, panicked. "Are you okay?" I ask. Charles is still groaning until he notices it is me and suddenly tries to act like his left foot hurts way less by joking, "Well, everything is better now that you are here."

I scoff and stand up. Charles tries to do the same and grimaces. I notice it immediately and help him, saying, "Come, we'll sit down." Charles looks at me and says, "Anything you want, mon cheri."

We stumble over to the place where my friend and I sit. As Charles plops down on my chair, I say, "Let me have a look at your foot." Charles looks panicked and says, "No, that is not necessary, mon cheri." I laugh and say, "Don't worry, I don't have a foot fetish."

He shakes his head and says, "Non, non, Joris is already on his way." "Jorris?" I question. "Yes, my trainer," he says. "You have a personal trainer?" I ask. "Well, of course, mon cheri, I am an athlete after all.

You're an athlete?" I scoffed. He looked playfully offended. "Yes, I am, mon cheri. Do you have a problem with that?" I laughed and replied, "No, I don't have a problem with that. I just doubt that

Why do you doubt that?" he asks. I laugh. "Well, I saw your football skills, and they're not professional athlete-worthy," I say. He laughs so hard that he almost falls off the chair and hurts his foot again, grimacing. "What did I say?" I ask innocently.

Well, I am most certainly not a football player," he says, laughing. "I know," I say, "but what are you then?" He grins and replies, "Well, I am a Formula 1 racer, obviously, mon cheri." I scoff and retort, "Sure, and I am the president."

He smiles, his beautiful dimples accentuating his charm, and says, "But I am, mon cheri. Why don't I prove it to you?" I look at him doubtfully and say, "Sure, prove it to me," leaning in closer. Suddenly, I notice beside his beautiful eyes, he also has beautiful lips.

As he bites his lip and gazes into my eyes, we are suddenly interrupted by a shout, "Charles, are you alright?" It's a man whom I presume is Joris.

As Joris keeps fretting over him and scolding him, I chuckle at the situation. Before I even realize it, several minutes have gone by, and Joris is speaking about bringing Charles home.

I realize that it might be the last moment I'll see that beautiful man. However, just as I'm thinking that, he turns around as if he suddenly remembers me. He hands me a piece of paper and gives me a kiss on the cheek before Joris helps him stumble away.

I sit down where Charles just sat and laugh as I notice it's a fake paddock pass to the Grand Prix this weekend. I turn to my friend and say, "Charles thinks he's a Formula 1 driver." She looks at me bewildered and laughs. "Come on, please tell me you know who that is." I laugh and say no. She looks at me like I'm crazy and says, "Only you could not realize you've been flirting with Charles Leclerc, Ferrari's number one driver."

[cerisereids]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟭]

pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader

wc- 3.5k

summary- you meet spencer reid while he's in your hometown on a case. you share one day before he has to leave. what happens when you can't stop thinking about each other?

warnings- sfw, reader is referenced as a woman, canon typical case discussion/emotions, fluff to angst, no happy ending (for now...) takes place in massachusetts for this first part, lmk if i missed any!

a/n- so. i ended up making this multiple parts. it's just too long. here is part 1 enjoy 😚

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

The soothing sun of an east coast spring morning bathes your skin in warmth, releasing some tension you have carried in your muscles since you first arrived at your desk this morning. The wind rustles through the trees, the idyllic scenery around you in motion with the breeze. The plants in the rose garden, the leaves and petals swirling around, they all follow the gusts in time, and you wish your morning was so easy. Your eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you recall that initial feeling of dread, the way it seeped through your bones when you arrived to work, met with a ransom note left on your desk. One million dollars. That’s how much the sender was demanding. One million for the safe return of Charles Anderson, local politician, diplomat, and the man who owns and funds the very library you manage. 

At first, you were convinced it was a prank, refusing to let in the pure panic pounding at your heart until you were certain something was very wrong. Asking for $1,000,000 from a local library almost seemed like a joke to you at first, like a teenager made it up to spook you. It wouldn’t be the first time. You took the note to your boss’ office, eyes widening, panic in full force once you saw the state it was in. Papers everywhere, desk drawers flung open haphazardly, and an open window. Your heart nearly stopped as you raced back to your desk to dial 911. 

Your eyes flutter open, back to reality as the tires of a black SUV screech against the library’s parking lot, coming to a halt right before you. You instinctively back away as a group of polished professionals exit the car, guns and badges strapped to their clothes. Your fingers find the pendant of your necklace, nervously fiddling with the small pearl resting on your chest. You greet the man in the suit, who introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You walk the group of concerned faces over to your desk, where the note was originally found. They bag all evidence, and soon you’re left with only two agents. One is a kind woman with black hair who introduces herself as Emily, and the other is, quite literally, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. His brows furrow and his big brown eyes bore widely into yours, checking for any and all signs of distress as he shakes your hand, introducing himself as Spencer. 

His hand lingers, his warm palm resting in yours for the briefest moment. A jolt of electricity shoots through your veins all the same. You yank your hand back, not out of disdain, but because of the unfamiliar comfort of his touch. You hardly know this man, only so much as his name, but the mere touch of his calloused palm floods you with warmth, with comfort, as if you’ve known him your whole life. It scared you, but the reassurance in his eyes now puts you at ease. He knows. He feels it, too, you can tell. 

Emily can tell, too, apparently. She clears her throat, effectively popping the golden, glittery bubble that surrounded you and Spencer in that moment. Her eyes flit between the two of you and your cheeks burn, you avert your eyes until the embarrassment passes. You suppose this is what it must be like being surrounded by profilers all day, your thoughts and feelings constantly on display. If it were a certain profiler, though, you’re not sure you’d mind so much. 

“Ooookay…” Emily trails off, accusation lacing her tone, “I’m going to take a look in Anderson’s office, there could be something there that'll help us find him. Reid, you’re gonna stay here with this lovely lady until we get the all clear,” she nods towards him. Spencer Reid. You replay his full name in your head on a loop, it’s pretty, like him. 

His head snaps up toward his coworker, brows furrowed as he stutters, “b-but I thought Hotch wanted me to-”

“Stay with her? While I go investigate? Yes, he did,” Emily finished for him, eyes boring into his in an attempt to send an unspoken message.

You’re no profiler, but now it’s your turn to flit your eyes between the two people before you, deciphering the unspoken words between them. From the blush creeping up the apples of Spencer’s cheeks and Emily’s knowing glare, it’s safe for you to assume she’s throwing him a bone here. Thank God for that.

As she turns to walk away, a lightbulb goes off over your head, “b-but-” you stop Emily as she walks away, and she whips around with an inquisitive look on her face, “is it safe to stay open? I mean, they broke in here and took Charlie-uhm-Mr. Anderson- and I don’t want our patrons to be in danger.”

“That’s an excellent question, Miss,” Emily responds, and the calming tone of her voice puts you at ease, “from what they’ve found at the station, the threat appears to be towards Anderson personally, not any of the institutions he owns. We’d like to keep it open so as to not cause public suspicion, the attention could make whoever’s taken him panic and kill. If anything happens, we’re here, and we have emergency teams on standby.” You nod, fingers once again anxiously fiddling with your pearl as Emily heads into Charlie’s office. 

The first few minutes after Emily leaves you two alone is painfully awkward. The two of you stand still at your desk for a beat, both sets of eyes avoiding the other as much as possible while a thick silence settles between you.

“Uhm-” Spencer’s voice cracks as he attempts to use it, he clears his throat before continuing, “you can-you can keep doing what you normally do. I’ll just be here to protect you.” 

Your eyes drift to his biceps, which are unfairly toned for such a lanky guy. You wonder how the cotton of his shirt would strain against them while he wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from whoever left the note on your desk this morning. The chaos of this morning would at least be worth something if it leads you there. 

“What, like a security guard? I thought you were supposed to be some FBI hotshot,” you flirtatiously test the waters, teasing him gently. Your sparkling eyes now scan back up his neck, to his lips, then back up to his own eyes, and the contact makes you nearly dizzy. 

“Oh! Well no-no not necessarily a security guard. Security guards became more popularized in the 1840s when a man named Allan Pinkerton founded the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which is now one of the largest private security companies in this country, actually! Their primary focus is on protecting institutions and artifacts,” he fidgets with his fingers as he rambles, and your heart grows three sizes. 

“Bodyguards, on the other hand, originated over 2,000 years ago during the reign of the Roman Empire. They protected royalty and leaders, so a bodyguard would be a more accurate description.” He finished his thoughts by clasping his hands together, interlacing his fidgeting fingers, while a flat smile appeared on his mouth. He looks almost guilty, like he’s said too much and is afraid you’ll laugh or tell him to shut up. 

Luckily for him, though, he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, so you smile and say, “that's really interesting, Spencer, I had no idea," you see him relax a bit at your validation, so you keep going.

"You said bodyguards protect royalty?" it's nearly breathtaking how enthusiastically he nods, his soft hair moving with him, "so I can be, like, your queen for the day, hm?” you raise a brow at him as you fiddle with the end of his tie, and his face is nearly red as a tomato by this point. 

“Yes!” he nearly jumps out of his own skin at the contact, and you nearly melt from how endearing it all is, “well, your safety is incredibly important so maybe you can just pick up from where you left off before we got here,” his voice picks up in speed and your heart could burst at the fact that you’ve worked him up this much while doing so little, “you can pretend like I’m not even here, I’ll just be sure you’re safe, while the rest of my team works to safely return Mr. Anderson,” he slows down a bit towards the end, taking a breath and giving you a smile, a real one this time. 

You return it, “thank you, Dr. Reid. You being here has already helped more than you know,” he finally initiates eye contact himself this time, his head snapping up automatically, before he could decide not to.

“Go-good,” he clears his throat once more, “I’m glad to help. That’s my job.” You exchange another set of smiles and you wonder how long it will be before you just can’t take it anymore.

“Well, unfortunately, though, there is nowhere for me to pick up on, because the first thing I did when I got here was call you guys,” your smile only widens as he shakes his head, cheeks tinting once more, “oh-no-no of course, yeah that makes sense.”

“Lucky for you, though,” you poke at his chest gently, “it seems as if my first task of the day is restocking the nonfiction section, let’s go!” you chirp as you march along, rolling the cart full of returned books.

“Why is that lucky for me?” he trips over a cord in his attempt to catch up with you, and you giggle, reaching out a hand for him on instinct. To your surprise, he links his pinky with yours.

“For someone who knows as much about security guards as you do, I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you like nonfiction,” you say while you swing your arms back and forth, and he mumbles in agreement. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“Wait a minute, so-let me get this straight,” you stop and turn away from the bookshelf to face the tall man behind you. Over the past hour, you’ve reshelved your way to the romance section, “so you have three Ph. D.s, two B.A.s, and you’re working on your third? While working for the FBI?” you push the cart further down the aisle as he walks beside you, leaning against the parallel bookshelf when you stop.

“Yep-yeah, that’s-that is correct, yes. I-uh- I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. You were accurate in your assumption about nonfiction,” he jokes, a sweet smile on his face. His smiles have grown more confident in the past hour, the more you two exchange niceties, anecdotes. You revel in those smiles, soaking in each one like a cat laying in the sun.

“I love that, education is so important,” you remark, and his blush deepens. Whether it’s because of your compliment or the shirtless man on the cover of the pirate romance you’re reshelving, you’re not sure. All you know is that this man before you makes your heart twinge with a longing you haven't felt in years. You want to see that blush on those cheeks everyday for the rest of forever. 

“Is that why you wanted to work at a library? Because education is important?” he questions. You can tell he's desperate to keep the attention off his reddening cheeks, the blush now making its way to his ears. You could die at the way the tips of them turn pink, but you choose to answer his question instead.

“My mom always told me that education sets you free. I think it’s so true, no matter how you go about seeking that education. When you know better, you do better, y’know?” you pause, and he nods like you’re the most important person in the world, “I wanted to be able to encourage that in our patrons. I think I’ve done a good job,” you smile as you think back to the successful programs you’ve run through this library: book clubs, after school science fairs, and more. 

“I’m sure you have, I can tell that there is immense love and care poured into this building on a daily basis. Your passion shines through you, y’know,” Spencer dotes, and you nearly forget how to breathe. His compliments seep through your skin, making its way into your bones. You shudder. This man is something else. 

“So, what made you decide that the FBI was where you wanted to use all this knowledge?” you ask as you ruffle his hair gently, eagerly drinking in yet another smile. This one’s shy, aimed at the ground. A blush he’s so desperately trying to hide creeps up to the high point of his cheekbones, despite his best efforts to conceal his flustered nature from you. 

“I had a mentor, he founded the unit back in the 70s. Hand picked me from the academy,” he lets out a nostalgic chuckle at the memory, and you wish you could bottle it up like a perfume, “we were really close, he’s the only person who could beat me at chess, actually," he's looking down when you turn to face him, his foot kicks around at a stray pebble that's made its way inside from the courtyard. You can tell he's not sure if he should say more. You hope he does. 

"He quit a few years back without warning, he lost someone he cared about and couldn’t take it anymore. It really wrecked me at the time, but people move on, I guess…” he trails off, sheepishly looking once again towards his Converse. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he's wearing that same guilty face from earlier, as if he’s afraid he’s said too much. It’s not possible, though. You want to know every detail, glimpse into every nook and cranny of this man’s peculiar life. 

“I know what you mean,” you start delicately, so he knows you mean it, “Charlie-uhm- Mr. Anderson-” you corrected, “he came to speak at one of my grad school lectures, what, probably five or six years ago now?" you chuckle at the memory, unbelieving that it was already so long ago, and Spencer smiles with you. It makes you feel like the queen of the world. 

"From the second he began speaking to us about this library, I fell in love with it. I spoke with him afterwards and it was an instant fit. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him,” the dread from this morning slowly creeps back into the pit of your stomach as you turn to Spencer with sad, wide eyes. 

“My team is some of the best in the world,” Spencer reassures you, a hand resting on your shoulder that eases the erratic beat of your heart, “they are doing everything they can to find him and return him safely.”

You greedily lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his forearm against your cheek, “‘m worried about him,” you croak, eyes glossing over, “he’s older than he used to be, y’know. He’s stubborn, but he’s not so spry, especially compared to when I first started working for him. I’m scared,” you confess, tears finally spilling over your lash line.

“Come here,” Spencer whispers mainly to himself, but you pick it up. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he envelops you in the sweetest hug known to man. 

His arms fit perfectly around you as you cuddle into him, utilizing him for every last bit of comfort he’ll allow. You turn your head so your temple rests on his chest, eyes scanning over his biceps, now flexing and straining against his printed button up. You allow yourself to indulge in the tautness for just a moment, before you wrap your arms around him in return. He takes this as a sign to pull you in deeper, tighter, a large hand soothing the expanse of your back in calming circles. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers into your temple, and you shudder at the way his breath hits your skin. You want to feel it all the time. 

Once he releases you, you reluctantly return to your shelving. You thank your lucky stars that your back is facing towards him, lest you give up all your cards so quickly. Now that you’ve had that contact with him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go without it. You can still feel the warmth of his skin as he wrapped himself around you, the softness of his forearms, the way your arms wrapped perfectly around his waist. A giddy weight sits heavy in your stomach, you’re breathless, like you’d been touched by an angel. Maybe you were. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

You thank your lucky stars that Spencer was right. Later in the afternoon, his team had found Charlie in an abandoned warehouse by the bay, the men who took him are in custody, and now you’re sitting in a plastic, sticky hospital chair as the steady beeps of an EGK machine torment you from across the hallway. You pick at your nails, desperate to pass time until Charlie’s family gets here. You promised you’d stay with him, why wouldn’t you after everything he’s done for you? What you don’t understand is why Spencer has stayed behind with you.

“You don’t have to be here, y’know?” you say, even though you desperately want him to stay. You nudge his knee gently when you see a small smile form on his lips, “wouldn’t you much rather be closing out this case with your team?”

“I’d rather be anywhere you are, making sure you’re okay,” he tells you matter of factly, eyes looking directly to yours. 

Those agonizing big brown eyes have plagued you all day. Every time you catch even the slightest glimpse, an overwhelming ache punctures through your heart, right in the middle. You imagine it’s what being shot with Cupid’s arrow is like. A heavy silence falls between you then. You both know what comes next. Spencer and his team close the case, and he goes home. You both turn your gazes forward, avoiding the other’s sad eyes, avoiding his departure. 

A sudden clapping noise jumpstarts you back to reality, and you reluctantly turn away from Spencer to find Charlie’s wife behind you. Her hands are clasped, eyes glassy and wide. You’re frozen at the sight of her, the true gravity of what you’ve experienced settling in fully. A pit sits in your stomach like a rock at the bottom of a lake. You know you must look foolish, but your body can't move, all your energy has been usurped by the otherworldly events of your day. Your red, dry eyes meet her glassy ones, and you wish so desperately you could be of some sort of use.

Spencer thankfully takes over, patting your knee like he can read your mind as he directs Charlie’s distressed wife to the room across the hall. You sit, now alone, with your back to the wall. You feel outside yourself, like you’re floating above the hospital, not actually in it. You’re not blinking, you’re pale as a ghost. 

You watch half heartedly through the glass as Spencer explains to her what’s happened. You know he’s told her he’s okay by the way she gasps, pulling him into her arms without a second chance. You feel ridiculously jealous at the sight of it.

When he exits the room to give her some privacy, that same, all knowing silence dawns upon you two again. He stops in front of you, crouching down to meet your level. You keep your gaze on your loafers tapping against the linoleum floor. Spencer takes your wrists in his hands and moves them apart, leaving you no choice but to accept your vulnerability. Your now glossy eyes reach his, and it’s like you can see the ache, the longing for what never was and never could be. 

“I-” Spencer starts, but his voice croaks, so he clears his throat and continues, “I had the best time keeping you safe today. I’m really happy we were able to find your boss, I know he means a lot to you,” his voice is gentle, kind, and you want to strangle him for it. Your life has been turned upside down, irrevocably changed, and this is all he’s leaving you with? You foolishly anticipated a grand confession, for him to sweep you off your feet and vow that 90 minutes isn’t that long of a flight, that you could make it work while he’s in Quantico and you’re here. That was your mind’s fairytale, though, and this is real life. 

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whisper through an embarrassing onslaught of tears, “I hope you fly safe.”

You disassociate once more, only pulled back to reality by the feel of Spencer’s soft, chapped lips against your forehead. Then, he’s gone.