How Cute Does He Look With A Beanie On?!

How cute does he look with a beanie on?! 😍

beanie!charles

sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath. 

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended. 

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?” 

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned. 

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.” 

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements. 

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.” 

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach. 

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply. 

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway. 

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after. 

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet. 

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff. 

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are. 

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?” 

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy. 

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately. 

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

The one with “We were on a break”

I have had this one shot ready for a week, but I didn’t post it because is not festive, but today I said fuck it 😂

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader

Summery: After a fight you and Henry decide to take a break… you spend all your night deciding if maybe you didn’t make a mistake, Henry spends his night differently Warnings: angst, cheating (is it cheating? is it not? if you have seen the episode of Friends this is inspired of, you know what I mean), child abandonment. Poorly written English, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

The last year had been difficult for you and Henry, the constant arguing, the couple therapy, the costant nagging every time he traveled for more than a week without you, the fear every time he went out with his friends.

It all had started 12 months ago: you had just been promoted at your job and you couldn't have been happier, after years and years of given your all to your job your boss was finally recognizing your effort, you were engaged to the love of your life, you had a beautiful house and a super cute and fluffy pup. But the promotion hadn't only come with the gratification of your effort being recognized, it was also followed by a lot more responsibilities and hours in the office.

Henry had been happy and supportive of you, of course he had been, he had always wanted for you to be fulfilled in every aspect of your life and he knew that, even if you didn't need to work because he could provide with anything you could need and want, you had always wanted to be indipendent, you didn't want him to think you cared about his money, not even for a second. You always joked that when he got tired of it he could just "hang up the cape” and you would give him an allowance.

Even though he couldn't have been happier for you and your accomplishments, the longer hours in the office had started to weigh on both of you and your relationship.

Your relationship had always needed a lot of work: Henry traveled a lot for his job but you had always managed because you used to have stable hours, but being now the head of your own team you couldn't always go back home at 5 p.m. like you used to, beside you had just been promoted you couldn't ask for time off already.

All of that had reduced the time you could spent with Henry when he was home and it had started a chain of reaction that had ended with the biggest fight you and your fiancè had ever had in four years of your relationship.

You could still remember that day, and the days after, like it was yesterday, you could still remembered the emptiness you had felt as soon as Henry had slammed the door of your house, you could still feel the dread of losing the love of your life for a mistake you weren't sure you could forgive.

-10 months before-

You were in your office with your boss Daniel, trying to fix the mess that was the last shipment, you could see your cell lighting up with Henry's calls, but you could also feel your boss eyes burning the back of your head so you couldn't really answer, beside you were almost done. You didn't know what time it was, you didn't know how long it had taken but you had done it: you had fixed the problem and you had impressed your boss.

"Good job today, I was sure you were the right person for the promotion but i'm happy I wasn't wrong"- Daniel, your boss had smiled at you… and he never smiled, so you took it as a win.

"Thank you"- you had said while putting your coat on

"Why don't you take the next couple of days off? I know the last couple of months, after your promotion, have been tough and don't think I haven't noticed that you have been the last one leaving the office almost everyday since getting promoted. The project is bascially done, we have fixed the shipment problem, I'm sure your team can manage the last details without you"- you wanted to jump for the happiness but had tried to stay professional.

"Are you sure?"- you double checked

"Of course, you deserve it. I don't want to see you until next week"- Daniel said while leaving the office.

You were on cloud nine, you were tired of course but you couldn't wait to be home: all you wanted was to get home, drink a glass of wine and tell Henry the good news. You couldn't wait to spend some time with Henry: maybe you could take a long weekend trip, it was going to be amazing.

You arrived home and the first thing you noticed was that Kal didn't come as soon as he heard your car and that could mean only two things: he and Henry weren't home or Kal was too busy taking care of Henry to come to the door and that worried you...

"Babe? Kal? I'm home"- you said while hanging your coat. Henry didn't answer you but you could now hear Kal wining and the tv on so that meant he was home.

You went to the living room, sure that Henry was there by now, even if he hadn't answered when you had said hi, maybe he had just fell asleep while watching a film.

Only when you entered the living room you were able to noticed that the table was set, a simple candle as center piece, and a bouquet of red roses was resting on what was supposed to be your side of the table. Henry was on the couch and it was clear he was very much awake

"Babe. I'm so sorry, I-" you tried but he didn't let you finish

"it's 11 p.m. Y/n, you told me you were going to be home at 6 at most... at 6 and it's 11 pm"- you could see it was upset and the last thing you wanted was to have a fight. You were so tired, you just wanted to hug your boyfriend and go to sleep preferably with your bear of a man and your baby-bear of a pup keeping you warm.

"I know I'm sorry, I really tried but the shipment department made a mistake and it took a while to fix it but listen-" he stopped you again and now you were getting annoyed. He knew there were really few things that got on your nerves and people not letting you speak was one of them. But you took a deep breath trying to stay calm as long as you could because you could see Henry was mad and one of you needed to keep a clear head if you wanted to avoid a fight

"You tried, yeah that's what you keep saying, that's the only thing I have been hearing from you in the last two months, well that and the message on your voicemail since you seem to have decided to stop answering my phone calls. Do you even remember what today is?”-he asked and even before he had finished to speak you wanted to curse. Fuck the roses, the home cooked dinner, he was wearing your favorite suit...

"It's our anniversary"- you whispered, it's not like you had completly forgotten, you had rembered this morning but you hadn't seen Henry before going to work since you had gotten out while he was still on his morning run, just to be sure not to get late. You had asked your boss to go out a little bit early but then the mess had happened and you had forgotten about the anniversary, about the dinner Henry had planned weeks ago without telling you anything about it, wanting it to be a surprise. He had only aked you to be there and well... you hadn’t been .

"Yeah it's our anniversary and I just spent it without even seeing my fiancè since she was busy working all day"- he wasn't screaming, Henry never did, especially not at you, but it didn't mean he was any less angry

"I tried, I swear I had asked Daniel yesterday to finish early but-"

"Daniel of course"- he interrupted you again and now you had had enough

"What's that supposed to mean?"- now you were getting angry... ok you were sorry you forgot about dinner, you were sorry you got home late, but calm-Y/n had run out of patience and you didn't like the tone your fiancè was using with you

"There is something I should know? about you and Daniel?"- Henry asked and in that moment you could have strangled him

"Please tell me you are not serious right now"- you tried one last time to reasoned with your fiancé

"Do you think I didn't noticed how he looked at you at your promotion dinner? How he always tried to get his hands on you?"

"OH MY GOD! Not this again, there is nothing between us, he is fucking married and even if he wasn't do you really think I would cheat on you? is that the consideration you have of me? Do you really think that low of me?"- you didn't know if you wanted to cry or scream, maybe a bit of both. You were sure your relationship was solid but now it almost seems like it was falling to pieces in front of you

"No of course not. I dont know"- Henry said sounding deffeated

"You don't know... after four years together you dont know"- you could feel tears starting to fall but you didn't give them any mind -"Maybe we should take a break"- you added after a while you and Henry had spent waiting for the other to say something

"Yeah... let's just take a breath, I'm gonna take a walk, do you want me to get you something while I'm out?"- Henry was looking at you and even though you wanted to stop your mouth before it could spell the next words, you couldn’t, it almost seemed like you had lost control

"I meant a break from us"- you muttered

"You want to break up?"- Henry asked and you could see he was shocked and mad all over again

"I..."- you wanted to tell no but you couldn't speak, you wanted to stop him while he was getting his coat, you wanted to tell him you loved him when he was almost at the door, but you didn't. All you did was watch the love of you life slamming the door of your house while crying, Kal spent the whole time whining

-Now-

You had spent that night crying, trying to reach Henry on his phone to tell him you didn't really mean it, you were just tired and a little bit mad, you wanted him to get back home so you could rest and have that conversation when you weren't running high on emotion.

You had wanted to tell him you didn't mean it, there was no way you had meant it.

You heard the door opening and Henry getting in the house, you took a deep breath and tried to stop thinking about the past: you and Henry had moved past that fight and what it lead to. You had needed months of couple therapy but you were finally in a good place again.

"Hey baby"- you said while hugging Henry, the memory of that night had left you needing a little bit of affection

"You ok?"- Henry asked, he could probably see a lingering pain in your eyes, the pain form remembering but you didn't want to bring up that fight again, you had talk it through in therapy and you were over it, but sometime you still thought about that night, about what you could have said differently, you still wished no mistake had been made at work so that you could have been home on time... nothing would have happened then, or maybe it would have anyway, who knew. Your therapist had told you there was no good that could come from the 'what if' but you couldn't help yourself and, even if he didn't tell you, you knew it was the same for Henry, you knew he still thought about it, he still wished things had gone differently.

"Yeah of couse, I can't stop thinking about our trip for our anniversary in two months. Paris here we come"- you laughed trying not to think that your anniversary would always coincide with the worst memory of your relationship with Henry. But you had both decided you didn't want to lose the pleasure to celebrate your anniversary.

Henry smiled at you while tenderly kissing your temple

"I love you"- he said and your heart warmed as it did every time you heard those words from him. You two were ok... yeah you were

"I love you too"

You were about to kiss Henry when you heard Kal barking and the ring of the doorbell soon after.

"Are you waiting for someone?"- you asked

Henry shook his head before going to the door, you decided to stay in the kitchen so you could start cooking dinner, whoever was at the door Henry could handle it. But when 5 minutes had passed and Henry hadn't yet come back and hand't invited whoever was at the door in, you started to worry

"Henry who was it?"- you asked while reaching Henry at the door, but once you were there you almost stopped breathing: she was in your house with a stroller at her feet.

-10 months before- the day after the fight-

You had spent the previous night trying to reach your boyfriend on the phone to ask him to come back home, to let him know there was no way you wanted to break up, not even take a small break. That wasn't true, you had just been a little bit mad and very tired. But your calls hadn't been asnwered. You had then decided to leave him a message

"Hey baby I'm sorry about our fight, I didn't mean it, of course I don't want us to take a break. I'm gonna wait for you in our bed ok? Please come home. I love you"- your message had said

You were sure that as soon as Henry would have listened to your message, he would have come back home and you would have made up. There was no doubt in your mind.

You had fallen asleep while waiting.

The next day you had woken up expecting to find the warm presence of your fiance next to you, his big arms hugging you like he always did but you were alone, Henry's side of the bed was made.

You started to worry: there was no way that Henry after listening to your message hadn't come home, something must have happened.

You were ready to call every member of the Cavill family, every hospital in town to make sure he was ok, when you heard the door closing.

"Henry?"- you knew you were almost screaming but you were scared, you had been sure your fiance was nearly dead until a minute ago, otherwise why hadn't he answered your calls, why hadn't he come home.

"Oh my god Henry"- you flew in his arms as soon as you saw him, he squeezed you in between his arms, almost like he was sure you were going to leave. - "I'm so sorry about yesterday, I was just tired, you were right I need to balance my work and my personal life better, but you need to know I would never cheat on you, not with Danel, not with anyone. Beside Daniel gave me the next couple of days off, we could take the car and go on a road trip, we always wanted to do that. Henry are you ok? Did you get hurt?"- you asked in the end when you finally noticed you had been talking for minutes without Henry saying anything back.

"I'm sorry"- he only said

"I know I'm sorry too, we just had a fight, nothing that a calm conversation with a hot chocolate can't fix"- you gently kissed him on the nose.

Now that you weren't scare to death for your boyfriend safety, now that you could finally breathe and think clearly you noticed that your phone hadn't stopped beeping since you had woken up

"Oh my god, what is happening? I swear to god if something happened at work again I'm quitting"- you went to pick up your phone to understand what was happening that had people blowing up your phone.

"i'm sorry"- you heard Henry's saying once again while you looked at the thousand messages people had sent you, every one of them had photos of Henry with his arms around someone else, of Henry entering an hotel with another woman, photos of Henry kissing a woman that wasn’t you.

You looked at Henry and when he once again said sorry you were sure you were gonna be sick

-Now-

And now that woman was on your door step, with a straller on the floor at her feet.

"what is she doing here?"- you asked Henry and you knew you sounded harsh.

You could see the hurt in Henry's eyes, the fear of losing you, the same fear you had worked on together on therapy, you could see it, of course you could, but at the same time you could also see the woman your fiancé had cheated you with in your home, with a baby in toe.

“I don’t know”- Henry said unsure, it was clear he didn’t know who to look at, his eyes kept going from you to the women at your door to the baby no one had talked about yet.

You wanted to run, you really did, the woman that had almost broke your relationship forever was in front of your fiancé and even though you didn’t think Henry would hurt you like that again you weren’t going to risk it. You didn’t want to hate her: it was Henry who was in a relationship back then, he was the one who had made the mistake, but still you didn’t want to see her.

“I don’t want it”- the woman said bringing back you on earth

“What?”- Henry said

“I don’t want it, the baby, it’s yours. You can do whatever with it, you can keep it or give him up for adoption, I don’t care”- she sounded like she was talking about a thing and you really wanted to punch her

“You can’t just leave your baby with me, you don’t even know me”- Henry said while you stood there looking at the scene like it was a movie you were watching, like it wasn’t really happening in real life, like it wasn’t happening in YOUR LIFE.

“It’s not my baby”- she said before turning her back to you and leaving, the baby was still asleep in the stroller on the floor.

Henry picked the stroller up, and started to go in the living room, probably trying to understand what to do now

“Y/n”- Henry called you once he noticed you stood still at the door but you couldn’t move. You wanted to look at your fiancé but you knew once you did everything was going to become real or well real for you at least.

“Y/n, baby”- Henry said coming back to you once he was sure the baby was safe and asleep. He gently shook you, trying to get you to look at him and not at the now closed door

“You have a baby”- you just said

“I-“

“You have a baby with another woman… you had a baby with the woman you cheated me with”- you knew you sounded like a broken record but you were still processing

“We-“- Henry tried but you stopped him before he could even really begin

“Don’t even try saying that we were on a break, because I swear to God Henry… Fuck, you have a baby, and it’s not mine, fuck”- the tears were coming, you knew it, but you couldn’t help it, what do you do when your fiancé have a baby with the woman he has cheated you with?

“I think I need a moment”- you said

“Ok”- Henry said thinking you were going to go to the bedroom, but soon it was clear he had been mistaken -“where are you going?”- he asked when he saw you putting shoes and coat on and opening the door

“I need a moment”- you left without even looking at you.

You knew you should have stayed, you didn’t want to hurt him, you really didn’t but at the same time you were feeling all the hurt you had tried to leave behind and you didn’t know what to do.

-10 Months ago, the day after the fight-

“Y/n, talk to me please”- you had been staring at your phone for what it seems like hours without saying a word and Henry was starting to get worried. He tried to gently take your arm but you took a step back

“Don’t touch me”-

“I’m sorry, Y/n I made a mistake, an horrible one but I’m sorry”- Henry tried again

“A mistake?! You slept with another woman Henry”

“She didn’t mean anything”

“And yet she was worth jeopardizing our relationship”

“I didn’t think there was a relationship to jeopardize, I thought we were broken up”

“I asked for a break, a break I was ready to call off as soon as you got out of the house, I tried to call you so many times last night but you were too busy screwing someone else to answer me. You were busy sleeping with another woman after you had just accused me of cheating”-

“I’m sorry, I thought we were broken up, it doesn’t justify what I did I know, I fucked up but please, please, tell me we can fix it, tell me how to fix it”- Henry asked with glossy eyes

And you just stood there looking at the man you loved asking yourself if you would ever be able to forgive him

-Now-

You weren’t even sure where you were gonna go, you weren’t even sure what to do, you just got in the car and stood there.

You just stayed in the car, in front of your house where your fiancé was alone with a month-old baby, a baby that you didn’t give him.

You looked at your phone, you didn’t even know how but you had spent an hour in your car without doing nothing, you took a deep breath and looked at the house: there was no doubt anymore, you knew what you were going to do.

You exited the car and got in the house; you could hear the baby’s screams, so you let them lead you where your man and the baby were.

“You’re back”- Henry took a deep breath as soon as he saw you: you didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know if you were actually going to come back tonight or at all, or if he was hoping you could help him with a baby that apparently had been crying for a while, almost for as long as you had been gone.

“Why is the baby crying? Did you check the diaper? Did you feed him?”- you asked getting closer to Henry and gently caressing the baby’s feet

“You’re back” Henry said again

“Henry focus, yes I’m back”- you looked at your fiancé’s eyes for the first time since you had been back and you could see he was just as scared as you, you were both scared you weren’t going to survive another tsunami

“You left”- he just said

“I know, I’m sorry, I needed a moment or an hour apparently”- you shrugged

“Where did you go?”- he asked

“Nowhere actually, I just got in the car and stayed there, I needed a moment but we are gonna be alright, ok?”- you caressed Henry’s curls before pooping the baby nose softly watching the baby stopping screaming for a second before starting again -“we’re gonna be ok, we are probably gonna need to schedule a couple appointments with the therapist, but we are gonna get past this, but we need to focus on the baby right now.”

“Ok”- he just said waiting at you for direction… oh your man

“I think she left some formula and some diapers so I’m gonna take care of the baby and you are gonna make some calls”

“Calls?”

“Yes Henry calls. You need to call one of your brothers to get some stuff for the baby, the last thing we need is paps seeing me or worst you buying baby stuff, we need to be careful, at least until we have a better understanding of the situation. You also have to call your lawyer we need to know what to do, how we can be sure the baby is safe, how we can be sure no one can take him from us”- you were on a roll

“Us?”- Henry asked still shocked about the whole affair

“Yes us, if this baby is yours we’re gonna take care of him, love him like he deserves, like I know you have wanted to do as soon as she said it was your baby even if you haven’t said anything because you think I’m gonna leave you, I’m not. If you are the father, this baby is mine too, that’s it! But Henry tomorrow you need to make one more call, we need to have a paternity test made and probably have a doctor take a good look at him, just to be on the safe side”- you could see Henry’s heart breaking a little.

The little man has been in his life for just an hour and he was already attached, he was heart broken at the simple idea of giving him up.

“Henry I really hope she told the true, I know you want to be his father, but if you’re not, don’t you think his father deserves to know?”- you gently smiled at him

“You’re right”

“Of course I am, I always am right”- you smiled at him knowing that you were going to be alright. The baby, who had calmed down a little as soon as you had taken him in your arms and had started bouncing around, gave a little scream of unhappiness

“Yeah someone is hungry, aren’t you baby boy?”- you softly said to the baby.

You looked up, knowing that Henry was looking at you two and seeing his eyes filled with love you knew you were gonna make a beautiful family

“We’re gonna need a name”- you and Henry smiled

Ps: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated ❤️

Henry Cavill taglist: @xxxkatxo @mansaaay @thorins-queen-of-erebor @maan24 @grounded-in-light @omgkatinka @xprettyqueenx @marytudorbrandon @kebabgirl67 @narnianaos

(If you’re name is crossed it’s because I wasn’t able to tag you. If I forgot to tag someone please forgive me and tell me again 😅)

Oh noooo

Part 5? They break up? Even after Pierres intervention?

Noooo

I need part 6 ASAP, you cant just post this, you can’t hurt me like this!!! I am too invested in thos Social media AU

Noe that I’m done having a breakdown, great storytelling, can’t wait to see more, you’re amaizing

I’m so glad you’re so invested in the story, I wish I could promise to post the next part as soon as possibile, but I know myself 🫣

Anyway they didn’t confirm the break up, so there is hope 😉

Charles Leclerc Smau- Part 5

[September]

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[October]

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your insta story (it’s a video guys)

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The post mentioned in the tweet ⬇️

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Taglist: @buendiabebeta @whathesaids @idkiwantchocolatee

Levitating

Summery: You are Charles’ celebrity crush... or are you?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader. (This has nothing to do with my Smau series… it’s just a one shot I couldn’t stop thinking about)

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itsMeYn ...LEVITATING... OUT... NOW!

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YnMyQueen I’m obsessed already... obsessed

 iloveyn Oh my god! yes!

yourbestfriend Finally bitch!

itsMeYn shut it 

yourmom So proud of you honey

ItsMeYn ❤️

liked by itMeYn and 123,446 others

vogue Your new album is out today, what has inspired you to write it?

Y/n Y/sn speaks to Vogue about her new album, how she come to write it and new love.

“The last couple of years have been  complicated but a full ones too: full of emotions, new experiences and happy memories. This album is a complex one because for me it’s  about moving on, finding love when you weren’t expecting it and where you weren’t expecting. But all I want is for people to want to dance and have fun whenever they listen to it at the same time”

Levitating has just been certified with Platinum, what are your favorite lines of the song, if we can ask?

"-If you wanna run away with me, I know a galaxy, And i can take you for a ride.-

yeah I really like the beginning"

Visit the link in bio to read the full interview

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Y/nfan Oh my god, my baby is in love.... 

Ynmyquenn I’m so happy for her after her last break up... she deserves it 

iloveYn do we know who is she dating?

YnmyQueen she did’nt say, I only hope whoever it is treat her like the queen she is

Yourbestfriend well look at this beautiful baby

ItsMeYn look who is talking

Charles.leclerc.fanclub

Interviewer to Charles: “Who is your celebrity crush?”

Carlos (before Charles can answer): “He can not say it, he has a girlfriend”

Charles: “No I don’t”

Interviewer: “So you have to answer”

Charles: “Mh… Y/n Y/sn”

So this happened and I’m so confused… is he in a relationship? Is he not in a relationship?

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Yn.leclerc So yeah... it's just been one minute but I'm ready to die for this ship already

YnMyQueen He is cute, but I'm sorry to say Y/n is in a relationship

Yn.leclerc Nooooo really... my poor boy, with whom? YnMyQueen We don't know yet, but some of the songs of her new album are about her new relationship Yn.leclerc So you're telling me, my ship is dead already? well one can always dream

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ItsMeYn Is this enough red? I don't know... @scuderiaferrari what do you think?

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scuderiaferrari It's a good start. We're gonna cover you in ferrari merch soon

Yn.leclerc Look at our boy supporting his crush in red. @charles_leclerc we can see your likes

ilpredestinato She is a ferrari guest at this week gp just saying yn.leclerc Are you telling me they are gonna meet? Hell yes. This ship is ready to sail evelyn.leclerc This ship is not sailing... she is just an attention sicker YnMyQueen What are you even doing in her comments if you only want to bring hate

Spotted Spotted Y/n having fun with some friends

There are no responses to the current rumors about a relantionship between @itsMeYn and @charles_leclerc. What do you guys think?

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YnmyQueen why can’t you guys leave her alone? She deserves some privacy

IloveYn My friend met her and she was so nice... I can't be sure but my friend noticed a new tatoo under her ribcage, it seemed like a moon and a sort of number or a writing. she couldn't see it whole

Yn.Leclerc Imagine if it is Charles’ number… “you, moonlight, you are my starlight”

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charles_leclerc I could spend all my days listening to you sing

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danielricciardo Mate.. that was fun @itsmeYn thank you for having us

itsMeYn You guys can come whenever you want, you know it IloveYn Y/n giving all times free tickets to all F1 drivers is a mood 😂

Yn.leclerc Oh my god, he was at her concert

formula.one.fan Not only him, like half the grid was there. They all were seen backstage speaking with Y/n after the concert charles.leclerc.fanclub I saw Pierre's stories, they seemed to have a lot of fun

Yn.leclerc I just don't understand if this is Charles confirming the rumors or just crushing hard.

YnmyQueen Who cares... let them be

ILoveYn I don't know, but what I can tell you is that, I was at the concert and I saw Charles covering Pierre's eyes everytime Y/n got closer to them. In particular when she was singing Pretty please 😂 PierreGasly That was uncalled for @charles_leclerc, I'm a good boy

ItsMeYn ❤️

yn.leclerc Y/n singing "Love Again" while looking at Charles, you can tell me what you want but they are together and they are super cute

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 3457283 others

ItsMeYn Always present even when you are away... Love you baby @charles_leclerc

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Charles_leclerc ❤️

Scuderiaferrari Happy birthday

YnMyqueen Happy birthday queen

Yn.leclerc The confirmation we were waiting for... I'm happy now, happy birthday

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc and 234566 others

ItsMeYn Post concert fun

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Charles_leclerc @yourbestfriend why are you touching my girlfriend's boobs?

Yourbestfriend She has amazing boobs Charles_leclerc I know that, but it doesn't answer my question Yourbestfriend Hey I was here before you, @itsMeYn control your boyfriend ItsmeYn I can't leave you two alone... not even for a second PierreGasly Does this mean that all your friend can touch your boobs or is just a @yourbestfriend thing? Asking for a friend Charles_leclerc @pierregasly you are an idiot ItsMeYn @PierreGasly 😂😂 it's mostly a charles' thing only, @yourbestfriend just like to rile him up Charles_leclerc I knew it Yourbestfriend @charles_leclerc you make it so easy 😂

Your story

English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

What are we gonna do after this weekend race 😭

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED 😘

All around taglist: @jwspiter