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omg leave thirty alone please :")

Unmasked

Part 11/?

<<< previous part

Word count - 4.1k

warnings - minor injury. lots of social media posts. chapter starts off in first person!!

***

It’s a comfortably warm morning in Monaco, the café I’ve been asked to go to is quaint - tucked away in a narrow street off of the beaten path but you get a perfect view of anyone coming towards you. A waiting game to see which of the people who cross my path is going to be her. I can’t help but study every woman who steps onto the cobblestones, but as soon as I see none other than Charles Leclerc come around the corner, hand in hand with a woman - it all clicks into place.

Y/n y/l/n is Thirty.

Both of them greet me with a smile and a warm handshake as they step inside the cafe - bringing a cool breeze in as they open the door. Charles looks smart in a linen shirt, chain around his neck, and a watch more expensive than a regular person’s annual salary on his wrist. And y/n looks effortlessly beautiful in a sundress to complement the warm weather, before I can start digging into her being Thirty I have to ask about her perfume - her signature smell is to die for. She laughs, pulling out a travel size from her purse to offer it to me, swearing she has a full size at home.

As you can imagine, I have a lot of questions. But let’s just start at the beginning, how did the whole Faceless driver idea come about?

Y/n leans back in her seat a little, Charles’ tanned arm is draped lazily across the back and he uses his hand to squeeze her shoulder.

Ferrari were really interested in having me as part of the team but it was risky y’know? A woman, let alone an 18 year old woman in one of the top teams was unheard of.

She pauses as the waiter takes our order, Charles ordering for us all in Italian - I can’t help but notice the way y/n studies him, a soft sparkle in her eye. Their relationship seems easy and when she turns her attention back to me, she seems a little more sure of herself.

I was part of the Ferrari academy since I joined GP3, but that and then F2 just never felt truly challenging to me and I craved more. F1 was where I belonged, it was just about getting there. I believe it was Maurizio Arrivabene who ended up suggesting keeping my identity a secret. The press from that alone brought in more sponsors than the team had ever seen and as you know, Ferrari has never had much difficulty with that.

Her answers are rehearsed, not in a media trained way, but in a way of a woman who has had to keep her identity a secret for her whole career and is finally getting to speak the truth. I understand why she would want Charles here, her teammate and boyfriend is a calming presence - keeping quiet as he knows she deserves the spotlight after all these years.

You never won a championship in F2, how did you convince them that you were good enough for F1?

She takes a sip of her drink, taking a deep breath before softly shrugging her shoulders as if she’s not entirely sure herself.

I spent a lot of time in simulators and they could see what I could do on track from the races in F2 and GP3 that I did win. I like to think it was never a question of if I was talented enough for F1, not to be cocky, but I knew I was - it was whether or not it was worth risking me in Ferrari or if maybe I should start in a sister team. But in the end, it was for the best. I won them two championships after all, so I’d like to think that it was worth it.

Speaking of championships, not only are you the only woman to win the WDC but also the youngest overall, how did you feel?

A fond smile tugs at her lips and she reaches into her bag to pull out a small stack of photos. She slides one across the table to me - it’s of her in her driver’s room, helmet off but still in her full kit with her arms wrapped around the trophy that won her the title. I asked her who took it and she told me it was ‘Seb’ - Sebastian Vettel.

I was so overwhelmed. Everything I had ever dreamed of had come true but I couldn’t share it with anyone outside of Team Thirty and, of course, Seb. He brought a bottle of champagne up to my room and we drank the whole thing. It was one of the best days of my life, wouldn’t change it. If being faceless was what gave me the opportunity to accomplish my dream? Then I’m grateful for it.

And then you won your second in 2018, how was that?

Even better than the first time. Lewis and I had such an intense rivalry for those couple of years that it was such a strong feeling of victory. We raced so well against each other and really brought out the best in each other, I think. I’m not sure if he feels the same but I’m glad that we got to share that experience.

The couple both offer me another drink in unison when they notice I’ve finished mine, sharing a soft laugh when they realise. Charles leans over and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before taking our empty cups up to the counter to get us some more coffees. The two seemed so in sync as teammates, it’s no surprise that they work well as a couple too.

How was the transition when Charles joined the team? You’d been teammates with Sebastian for your entire career up until that point.

Honestly? It was a little scary at first. Seb was a mentor for me and when I had to meet Charles properly for the first time I was worried about how he would react. But, he’s been nothing but good to me. Before we started dating he’d always sneak into my driver’s room to keep me company and made sure that no matter how my race went - I had someone to talk to about it. He’s become my rock and I’m so lucky to have him.

He pushes me to be better, but has never let me be anything but myself.

When Charles returns to the table with a tray with fresh cups of coffee, he hands them out to us before sitting down - shuffling his chair closer to y/n so he can fully drape his arm across her shoulders. She relaxes in his hold, looking away from me for a moment to thank him for the drinks.

I know we’re interviewing y/n, but Charles, what was it like having to keep formula one’s biggest secret?

Difficult. He frowns a little. The amount of times I wanted to properly congratulate y/n or correct people when they said he was insane. I know I may get in trouble for this but I think keeping her hidden for so long was a mistake. Other women and girls should’ve been able to know that one of them was a formula 1 racer and a champion. She’s one of the greatest of our generation and she should’ve been celebrated properly.

I can see she’s touched by Charles’ words, despite - I’m sure - he’s said them to her before. This article is about learning about Thirty, yes, but I don’t think I can truly do that justice without talking about how the pair of them interact. I’m not sure whether it’s the years they’ve been teammates or the time they’ve been a couple but they just complement each other so easily.

So, you were teammates through 2020 and 2021, how did this relationship happen and why now?

The two of them share a look, one - as a journalist - I’m familiar with; whilst they do truly seem to care for each other, I have a suspicion there’s something they can’t tell me. But I don’t press.

I think during 2020 we were still just strangers, getting to know each other as people and as teammates. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time together outside of Team Thirty meetings or on the track y’know? And then 2021 I was in that title fight right up to the end so it just didn’t seem like the right time as I couldn’t really give him the attention he deserved.

We did begin to really become friends during 2021, he would make the extra effort to see me outside of meetings. And whilst Charles has since told me that he’s had these feelings for a long time, it took me a little longer. We’re definitely a case of he fell first, but I fell harder. I’m so smitten with this boy, you have no idea.

Charles was watching her as she spoke, the undeniable pink tinge of his cheeks was hard to miss. No matter what they were keeping to themselves, it was clear the two of them were very happy together. But it was time for more questions about the Thirty of it all.

So, why now? You’ve been faceless for nearly 6 years, what changed?

Well, after it leaked that I was a woman and I won the race in Imola - Team Thirty and I had a very big meeting about it. I’ve been ready to face the world for a while but with the team determined for another championship win this year, it was originally put on the back burner. But, I knew it was time. This year I could win my 3rd title and I wanted to do it with my face, my name not just a number.

I’ve also had so much support from both Charles and Sebastian with this. They helped me figure out just what to say to the team to convince them that now is the right time. I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this sport but I want to be here as y/n for at least some of it.

She excuses herself from the table to go to the restroom, that same fragrance from before following her as she walks past me. Charles sips at his coffee before leaning forward a little as if he’s got something juicy to share. I can’t help but be intrigued, leaning in also to listen.

She’s gonna do it, you know. The WDC is hers this year.

What about you? I ask. Shocked that he’d admit it about his teammate, he’s the Tifosi’s golden boy and is ahead of her in terms of points. He simply smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

I think now she’s got this out in the open, there’s truly nothing holding her back. She’s going to be unstoppable behind the wheel- this weight of her secret won’t weigh her down anymore. Yes, I want to be world champion, and you bet I’m going to fight for it until the very end… but I would be lying if I didn’t think she deserved it.

He straightens up in his seat as she returns, smiling as she leans down to kiss him before taking her seat - asking if she missed anything important. I know she’ll read what Charles said when the article is released but for now I keep it to myself, simply shaking my head.

Okay, let’s mix it up, get to know y/n a little more. What is your favourite track and why?

I think Bahrain is always going to hold a special place in my heart, I got my first win there. But, if I had to choose an all time favourite…I think it has to be a tie between Imola and Monza. Being surrounded by the Tifosi in such hoards really makes you want to do your best. Seeing oceans of red as you drive around is inspiring knowing all these people are in your corner. Now, I know in recent years, they’ve taken a particular liking to a certain Monaco native but they always showed me nothing but support and I hope they continue to do so now they know who I am.

Speaking of the Tifosi, do you have anything you want to say to them?

I mostly want to thank them for being my biggest supporters despite not knowing who was beneath the helmet. Thank you a million over Tifosi, I love you guys more than you’ll ever know.

Who was your racing hero growing up?

Oh there’s so many drivers out there I love but Susie Wolff for sure - she’s such an inspiration to women everywhere. And I know it’s probably silly but Lella Lombardi too, I know she only got half a point in her career but she made it into formula one when everything was against her and other women. But as a kid, it had to be Michael Schumacher. I met him a couple of times and he was nothing but kind to me. He was always honest with me that it was going to be tougher being a girl but he always believed in me and that… that was everything.

We’ve also heard through the grapevine that you’ve been approached by several other teams for next season, anything we should know there?

She smiles softly before shaking her head. Ferrari have actually matched the best offer I received, but at the end of the day they’re the team I want to race with so we’ve extended my contract for at least one more season - hopefully more. Besides, I’ve got the best teammate a girl could ask for.

Charles chuckled softly. Back at you, mon amour.

I think that’s all I really have to ask for now, thank you both so much for meeting with me. I’m not sure what I expected but you exceeded my expectations.

Oh wow, thank you so much. Thank you for being so kind… If I ever need to do another interview, you’ll be the first person I call. That’s for sure.

So there you have it, y/n y/ln is our mystery driver. I don’t know about you but I cannot wait to see what she does now that she’s been unmasked. This season has just got very interesting.

***

***

You weren’t a fool, you knew there was going to be a little push-back to your reveal - but there was a very loud minority who made it abundantly clear just how much they hated you, that they just didn’t believe you could possibly be the driver they had been supporting all these years. Within an hour of GQ releasing the article, #NotMyThirty was trending within the F1 community. They’d called you every insult under the sun and it was hard to focus on the praise when they were so loud and the press focused so much on the criticism. It didn’t help that once you’d been revealed, a certain Redbull team principal decided you weren’t worth the offer they made and he very publicly retracted it.

“Y/n, cherie.” You felt the mattress sink next to you as Charles sat beside you on the bed - the duvet pulled over your head. “We need to go soon, have a plane to catch.”

“...why don’t they just get Jenson to do it. Or better yet, get Michael up and on his feet so he can get in the car when I couldn’t possibly be a two time world champion.” You grumbled. “I’m just a stupid paddock-bunny.”

Charles frowned softly. “Hey. Those idiots have no idea what they’re talking about. You’re one of the greatest talents of our generation, they’re just jealous fools who couldn’t get into the sport if they tried.”

The Monegasque smiled softly as you peeked over the top of the duvet. It was hard for you to believe him but you knew he was going to sit there until he got you out of bed - so you put on your best fake smile. “You always know just what to say, huh?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling a gentle hum from you. “Mhmm hmm, I’ve got a talent for it. Now seriously, get your beautiful butt out of bed… we’ve got a flight to catch.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when you arrived in Miami, Charles’ hand wrapped around yours as you both stepped into the paddock. The cameras and press were on you in a literal flash, you simply smiled and waved a little. “Hey, y/n, look.”

When you followed the direction of Charles’ finger, your heart skipped a beat when you saw fans at the barrier with signs for you. The loud minority who despised you were currently nowhere to be seen - people shouting and cheering. Your boyfriend was positively beaming as he tugged you over to them, you couldn’t believe people actually wanted your autograph and pictures with you.

You could feel tears prickling in your eyes when a young girl told you just how much it meant to her that she had a female idol in the sport. It was hard not wrap your arms around her and never let go so instead you took a photo with her. “I got you a present… made it as soon as I found out you were a girl like me, it’s a bit messy ‘cus I didn’t have a lot of time.”

As you held your hand out, she slipped a bracelet around your wrist - it was made out of chunky plastic beads; flowers, fake pearls and the word Thirty written out in pink. It was the girliest thing you had ever seen but you could tell just how much it meant to the girl - her little eyes sparkling as she waited for your response.

“I love it! Thank you so much!” You grinned. “Hey, I’ve got something for you as well.”

You took your cap off of your head and scribbled your signature on the brim before sitting it atop her head. “Think this suits you much better.”

Your heart felt full as she turned to her Dad and bounced with glee, showing off her brand new present. You smiled softly and as you turned to Charles, you were suddenly hit with a sharp pain in the side of the head, right by your eyebrow - making you wince and reach up, eyes widening when you pulled your hand back and you saw blood on your fingers. You only just saw a glimpse of security dragging a man shouting expletives away from the crowd. “Oh my god, y/n, are you okay?”

“Yeah uh… what..” You blinked a few times, feeling a little dizzy, eyes scanning the floor to see what he’d hit you with - eyes landing on a crumpled up can, as you pushed your toe against it, you could feel there was still some liquid in it. “I… I uh…I think I should probably go to the medical centre, just to be safe.”

“Of course, shit, yeah.” Charles looped an arm around your waist and helped you through the paddock. Before you left, you caught the eyes of the young girl again and the look on her face broke you - she looked terrified. She was the walking personification of how you felt in that moment.

You had to fight back the tears as the two of you walked through the paddock - the memory of meeting some of your fans for the first time, tainted forever by that one dickhead in a Redbull cap. You were expecting some hatred, but you weren’t expecting physical violence. As you stepped into the medical centre, you were immediately ushered into a room and patched up.

“I can’t believe he did that, cherie. I’m so sorry… I-I should’ve been paying better attention.”

Your brow furrowed as you got up from the exam table, the medic having left the two of you alone. Charles stood against the wall, head lowered as you crossed the room to join him.

“Hey, hey.” You took his face in your hands. “Don’t you dare, you couldn’t have known he was going to do that… I… I’m starting to think this was a mistake.”

“Y/n-”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I just… I knew there was going to be some backlash but, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this…”

“Cherie-”

“Can I just be alone for a little while, please? I’ll catch up with you later.”

Your teammate’s eyes flickered across you, you could tell he wanted to protest but instead he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaving you alone. The lights in the room hummed softly as you sat down in the empty chair beside the exam table, covering your face with your hands and letting out a soft sob.

Being unmasked was what you’ve wanted for as long as you could remember, but you hadn’t taken the time to really think about exactly what that meant. That your face, your name would be out there for everyone to pick apart. You wanted to put on a brave face and go out there, pretend it didn’t bother you but it did.

None of your achievements mattered - all that they cared about is that you were a woman, a fake, the drivers’ personal mattress. And your relationship with Charles was thrown right back in your face, the defending Ferrari was supposed to be doing didn’t seem to be helping at all. Any time the PR team spoke to the press, people always had some sort of comeback - another reason to add to the list of why you didn’t deserve any of it.

You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shove all of the cruel accusations to the back of your head as you left the medical centre. As you turned towards the Ferrari motorhome, you saw Lewis leant against the wall - foot propped up against the wall as he scrolled on his phone, no one even batting an eye at him. He looked up at the sound of the door closing and gave you a gentle smile, pushing his phone into his pocket. “Hey, I just came to check if you’re okay. I heard what happened.”

“Said it was gonna come up as a bit of a black-eye but I’ll be alright.” You shrugged.

“I’m more worried about how you’re feeling, y/n. I know no one knows what you’re going through right now but I’ve been through similar enough crap to know that it’s not fun being singled out for something you can’t help.” His voice was soft as he stepped closer. “And I know it’s easier said than done but you just gotta try and ignore it.”

“...I don’t know if I can.” Your voice cracked. “Th-They’re attacking insecurities I didn’t even know I had. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this, Lewis.”

He looked around the paddock before checking his watch. “We’ve got some time, come with me.”

You lowered your head and followed your fellow driver into the Mercedes motorhome through a back entrance and up to his room - his dark eyes flickering back to you to make sure you were following close behind him. With a hand on the small of your back he ushered you into his room, closing the door behind. “You should probably text Charles, let him know you’re here.”

“Uh yeah… Yeah, good idea.”After texting your boyfriend, you sat beside your rival on the sofa, his arm draped across the back. “They’re going to crucify me if I have any bad races. Any mistake, any slip up… they’re going to drag me to hell and back. I just… I know I should ignore it, I do, but it’s hard to ignore when it’s smacking me in the side of the face.”

“”I know, I get it. I’ve been there… you just need to try and remember you’re not alone. I’ve got your back, so do Charles, Max and Sebastian. Don’t disappear into yourself, okay?” His voice was gentle but firm, but it just felt so quiet compared to the throbbing pain you felt in your temple.

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thank you… I should get going.”

You were taken a little aback when you were pulled into a hug as you stood, his strong arms would’ve made you feel safe in any other circumstance you were sure - but you just felt so defeated by it all. You gave him a gentle squeeze before heading towards your own garage, Charles throwing you a worried look from his side - still unsure how you’d ended up with Lewis. You simply nodded at him before popping into a side room to get into your racegear, ready to get into the car for the first time without your mask on.

“Hey, how’s the suit fit?” Your trainer approached you, a gentle smile on his face. “Must feel good that it’s finally got your name on it, right?”

“Uh yeah, it fits good.” To the untrained eye, the smile on your face was simply of a distracted person - getting ready to race, but Charles could read you like a book and he just knew something was wrong. Something more than a slight headache and the bruise blossoming around your eye was weighing you down and getting into the car in the mental headspace you were in was trouble waiting to happen.

But before he could cross over to you, try and clear your head just a little bit, he was summoned for first practice - one of his mechanics ushering him over to his car, allowing the driver to get one final glance at you as you pulled your helmet over your head.

All he could do now was hope that you wouldn’t get in your own way - as having a bad weekend would just sink you deeper into the feeling you weren’t good enough. You were a champion for a reason. But the minority who despised you were tearing you down, blocking your view from who you truly were and he hated that.

You took a deep breath from inside the cockpit, trying your best to block out the voices bouncing around your head as your engineer went over the programmes you would be running during the session. You just had to do well this weekend, no, not just well… you had to win. Everything was resting on your shoulders, they expected results now you were unmasked.

And you were terrified of what they’d do if you didn't.

***

************************

Really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! There will be no chapter next weekend because I’m going to Silverstone 🏎️

Thank you for all your support on this fic!

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no but this is so cute!

FIND LANDO ★ LN4

pairing: lando norris x gf! reader ( she/her )

summary: As a WAG, you are known for helping fans meet lando, so when a kid in full mclaren gear is in the paddock, you know what you must do.

or this request

notes: i still don’t get over the P2. i missed his champagne celebrations so so much !!

yourusername’s insta story

ln4fanclub

8,625 Likes

ln4fanclub Mini fan on Mclaren gear today at Silverstone! 🧡

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livelaughlando that’s so iconic

piastri444 I WANT A MINI SUIT TOO 😭😭

thelewiscloset we need lando to meet mini him

norrizf1 @ yourusername please my queen do your magic

loverofcarzz YES @ yourusername

yourusername’s insta story

mclaren’s insta story

mclaren

Liked by yourusername, landonorris and 326,851 others

mclaren We found Lando and he met his twin! 🥹🧡

#F1 #BritishGP

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yourusername admin i LOVE YOU

yourusername Mission accomplished ✅

mclaren Our queen 👏👏

landonorris This kid made my day

yourusername you’re WELCOME

landonorris also i’m scared of y/n someone save me

mclaren Nono, she has permission to lecture you

landonorris betrayed by my own team 😔💔

yourusername say bye to your seat, lando

roscoelovescoco

Liked by yourusername and 188,255 others

roscoelovescoco Nice meeting's ya @ landonorris

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yourusername Roscoe this is HILARIOUS BAHAHAH

landonorris destroyed by LH’s dog. what is my life?

yourusername first of all, is ROSCOE HAMILTON not “LH’s dog” get it right

yourusername second, you deserve it

yourusername third, i love u

landonorris i love u too 🙄🙄

brb gonna go cry

fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information. 

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt. 

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try. 

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You. 

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was. 

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did. 

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better. 

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point. 

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues. 

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated. 

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word. 

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco. 

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend. 

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you. 

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you. 

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there. 

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you. 

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager. 

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever. 

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen. 

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers. 

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck. 

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about. 

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could. 

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?” 

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained. 

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time. 

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.  

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time. 

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked. 

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes. 

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you. 

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking? 

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic. 

At least, you thought you didn’t. 

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.” 

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing. 

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.” 

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.” 

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while. 

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment. 

He wasn’t going to let it escape him. 

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you. 

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere. 

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend. 

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could. 

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips. 

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words. 

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth. 

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him. 

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications. 

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before. 

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain. 

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear. 

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat. 

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night. 

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team. 

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time. 

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful. 

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed. 

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too. 

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between. 

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride. 

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car. 

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you. 

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage. 

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you. 

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story. 

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday. 

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. 

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered. 

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out. 

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner. 

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point  and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts. 

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea. 

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel. 

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry. 

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on? 

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1. 

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different. 

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race. 

And somehow, you won. 

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe. 

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red. 

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you. 

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team. 

He was so proud of you. 

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching. 

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that. 

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining. 

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name. 

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love. 

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it. 

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love. 

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence. 

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions. 

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?” 

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face. 

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently. 

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation. 

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season. 

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it. 

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren. 

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel. 

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023. 

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early. 

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked. 

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders. 

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different. 

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break. 

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily. 

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours. 

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news. 

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

Your heart sank. 

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked. 

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?” 

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response. 

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done. 

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work. 

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life. 

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other. 

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three. 

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career. 

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel. 

stay tuned for part 2

this is so idk realistic hahaha!!!

could we get more lando and gzd moments? like them playing more into their marriage rumor and reeking havoc during races like pushing into each other on the track or chasing each other around the paddock, they’d be such a chaos duo😭 i love grids delight💗

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: a collection of gen-z driver moments during the 2023 austria grand prix :) 

author's note: i am so confused about this as well, but just enjoy our lovely gzd being chaotic and just as confused as us! thank you for loving the series, darling!! i appreciate it a lot!!!

• • • • • • •

''Okay Y/N, so we have a 5 second penalty for the lap track limits. Keep it clean from now on.'' Marco's voice came through the radio, notifying the driver. 

She loudly sighed, momentarily lifting her hand from the steering wheel to show her frustration. ''What? Who snitched? Lando? Was it Lando? Oh, I bet it was Lando.'' Y/N rambled, glancing at the McLaren driver in her mirrors. 

''Just focus on driving. They're giving a lot of drivers penalties at the moment so don't worry about it too much.'' He brushed it off, not wanting her to get distracted by which driver reported on her breaking the rules. 

Y/N listened to his words and calmed down. ''Understood, Polo.'' She answered, trusting his judgement. 

''Y/N, Sainz told over the radio that you're intimidating him.'' Marco informed her as she pressured Carlos, fighting for the third spot on the podium. 

The driver frowned. ''Well… is the intimidation on the track with us right now?'' She chuckled. 

''Push harder, we have better pace than them.'' Her engineer had laughed himself when the message came in, finding humour in the Ferrari driver's comment to his own team. 

Y/N listened to Marco's instruction and intimidated the car in front of her even more, eventually passing him a few corners later. ''Marco, I passed him so he doesn't feel threatened anymore- aren't I such a good friend?'' She laughed, giving herself a pat on the wrist. 

The commentators and analysts tried hard not to cackle as her radio message was replayed on the broadcast, still wanting to remain their professional attitude. 

''Y/L overtakes Sainz from the inside with a nice message for the Spaniard attached to it- beautiful stuff we are seeing here at the Red Bull Ring.'' Crofty's voice sounded over the replay of said overtake. 

''Charlie, you're in my chair again.'' Y/N walked into the cooldown room, immediately noticing the Monégasque occupying her seat. The situation had also happened in Baku when the three of them made it onto the podium. 

The Ferrari driver glanced behind him, seeing her car number and team logo above his chair. ''Oh, sorry…'' 

He made an advance to switch seats, but she stopped him. ''It's okay- I'm P2 now.'' She teased, sitting down on his original chair. 

''It's been a while since we were on the podium together.'' Max stated, standing up from his seat and grabbing one of the towels that were laid there for them. 

Both Charles and Y/N nodded at him. ''Well, it's been a while since Charles was on the podium with us.'' The youngest corrected the Dutchman, chuckling at the Monégasque's unimpressed face. 

''I'm back.'' He simply smiled. 

While the second and third place drivers were joking around with each other, the RBR driver watched the replay of the race. ''A lot of penalties.'' He noted. 

''I got one.'' Y/N admitted, raising her eyebrow in light annoyance. 

The two men's heads shot up at that. ''Really? Track limits or what?'' Charles asked. 

The young woman nodded. ''Yeah, Mr. Norris ratted me out.'' There was a sarcastic tone to her voice, indicating she was joking and wasn't actually upset with her British friend. 

''Lando? That's funny.'' Charles had always been a fan of Y/N and Lando's friendship, their banter having made many great moments on the paddock and online. 

Max pointed at her. ''You should get revenge.'' He grinned, knowing she most likely already had something in mind. 

He realised he was right once he saw the mischievous smirk on her face. ''You know I will.'' She folded her hands together as if she was a villain in a superhero movie planning a grand scheme. 

''I'm scared for him.'' Charles said, relieved he wasn't a victim of her humorous retaliation. 

''You should be, Charlie.'' 

''YOU TOLD EVERYONE I PEED MYSELF SO HARD DURING THE RACE THAT THERE WAS A HOLE IN MY SUIT?!'' Lando stormed into her motorhome, his eyes widened in disbelief. 

Y/N had a devilish smirk on her face as the McLaren driver walked in, having expected him to waltz in. ''Snitches get stitches.'' 

''Oh, come on! You would have done the same thing!'' He defended his actions. 

''You,'' she pointed at him, ''think I,'' she pointed at herself, ''would have reported on you every time you went over the track limits? I would never, Lando.'' The way in which she was speaking sounded like that is exactly what she would do. 

''And by the way, no one would believe a thing like peeing so hard that there are holes in your clothes- people aren't that gullible.'' She said, brushing the entire thing off. 

Lando rolled his eyes. ''People are believing it! 'Lando peeing' is trending on Twitter already.'' 

Y/N snorted at his words, immediately covering her face as she loudly laughed in his face. ''L-Lan… pee- peeing…'' She couldn't get any words out, finding the situation too funny. 

''Stop laughing, it's not funny!'' Despite his words, Lando had started grinning himself- the sight of his best friend completely losing it being too much for her 'I have to remain serious'-facade. 

''I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think people would take it seriously.'' Y/N was still cackling while delivering her ''apology''. 

The Brit sighed. ''This is gonna haunt me for a while, isn't it?'' 

''I'm afraid so, Rumple.'' 

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PAPI CARLOS?! OF COURSE IT WILL HAPPEN ONE DAY!

I was wondering if it's possible to request a carlos x reader where they get invited to a show like the return of superman and them just being so domestic and so good with the children (let's say it's toddler twins)

It could be a social media au or mixed with some writing or just a one shot of sorts, anything is fine with me.. thank youu

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ CS55 ꒱ BABY FEVER─ CARLOS SAINZ

CARLOS SAINZ x f!wife!reader

genre — fluff

notes — ohhhh anon this was soooo cute!!!! omg i had a blast writing this, absolute cuteness overload 🥰🥰🥰 apologies for the delay in getting back to you, i made this into a one-shot, hope that you enjoy it!

“Hey! Hey, hey, don’t do that!”

The sudden commotion coming from the kitchen piques your interest, and you set your book down, only mildly irritated that your TLC time has been interrupted by Carlos’s yelps. You can hear him grumbling away in the kitchen, and as you round the corner, you’re faced with a sight too good to be true:

Carlos is on his hands and knees, a cloud of flour circling his head. There’s dough on the counter. There’s dough in the sink. There’s even dough on the cabinets overhead – how that got there, you haven’t a clue. Needless to say, the kitchen is an utter mess. Though, you should have expected that: Leaving Carlos alone with a pair of hyperactive toddlers – twins, what’s more – was sure to lead to chaos.

A week ago, you received an invitation from Carlos’s PR team, requesting for your presence on a television show called “The Return of Superman”. A curious name, and an even more intriguing presence: Spending a few days taking care of and getting to know a pair of adorable twins? It sounded absolutely delightful to you. Besides, you and Carlos have been talking about expanding the family for a while now, so you figured this would make a good trial run of sorts.

You lean against the doorframe, watching on in amusement as Carlos – still kneeled on the ground – pleads with the giggling toddlers. The pair of twins are running circles around him, their hands sticky with dough, their faces dusted with flour. They’re shrieking, and each time they pass him, a tuft of hair is pulled, or a clap of dust is sent his way. It’s hilarious; if not for the mess you’ll have to clean up later.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” you say, finally deciding that it’s time for you to step in and save Carlos.

He sends you a grateful, exhausted smile, as you pick one of the twins up, pulling the other’s hands away from Carlos’s hair. He straightens up, smiling sheepishly as he examines the mess that is your apartment’s kitchen. “Well, we wanted to surprise you with cookies. But it seems we… got a little carried away.”

“Cookies!” Mika – the eldest of the twins by two seconds – shrieks, giggling in your arms. She fusses, her pudgy hands reaching out for your face. You pull away with a teasing smile before she can get her grabby hands on your face, and the pouty look on her face is more than enough to have your heart clenching.

“Looks like you guys made a lot more than just cookies,” you hum, guiding Mika to the kitchen sink. As you run the little one’s hands under the water, you nod your head towards Evan – Mika’s other half – who is currently in the midst of trying to sneak out of the kitchen.

Carlos is swift to pick him up in his arms, laughing as the child lets out a peal of laughter. “Nope, not so fast, little one,” he chuckles, ruffling Evan’s flour-covered hair. “You have to help me and Auntie Y/N clean up.”

You set Mika down, gingerly drying her small hands off with a washcloth. She wriggles in your grasp. You don’t miss the way her eyes already set on the ball of dough on the countertop, clearly eager to get back to making a mess. So, in one swift motion, you usher her out of the kitchen and into the makeshift play area you’d constructed for the twins, motioning for Carlos to do the same with Evan.

Following behind, Carlos chuckles, watching as you attempt to wrangle Mika into the playpen. The little girl is stubborn, shrieking as she tries to slip out of your grip and run back to the kitchen. Evan, on the other hand, is much more compliant, dutifully following Carlos’s lead as he totters towards the bookshelf.

“Carlos,” you groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. You try not to let Mika notice your frustration, instead smiling through gritted teeth, “Help me get Mika in!”

He merely laughs, taking the young child’s hands from your own. He kneels down in front of her, patting the space on his back. “Piggyback?” he offers Mika, eyebrows wiggling. Clearly, this gets to her, because she’s instantly clambering on him, little arms snaking around his neck and legs wrapping around his torso.

You watch in adoration at the sight: Carlos coming to your aid like a knight in shining armour. His hair is still messy and a faint white from the flour, and there’s something sticky clinging to tufts of his hair. But you still can’t help but feel so happy with him, so content in this domestic bliss.

Carlos does a couple of laps around your sofa with Mika clinging onto his back, the little girl yelling out in glee all the while. You entertain Evan in the meantime, not wanting him to feel any bit left out.

Finally, Carlos sets Mika down in the playpen, without much fuss, to your immense relief. It seems that all that piggyback riding has tuckered Mika out, for she immediately makes a beeline to the beanbags, nestling up with a large yawn.

“Get some sleep, Hermosa.” You look over from reading to Evan, finding Carlos murmuring softly to Mika, his large hand soothing over her hair. “You look tired. Take a little nap, yeah?”

The toddler makes a small noise of assent, her eyelids already drooping shut. You breathe out a quiet laugh at her attempts to stay awake; they ultimately prove futile, for she falls asleep not long after.

Carlos lumbers over to your side, collapsing onto the ground beside you, clearly exhausted.

A moment of content silence passes, with Carlos blinking owlishly at you, a lazy smile on his face. He leans in to press a kiss to your lips, but you put a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

“Nuh-uh,” you tease, a coy smile toying on your lips. “Not until you get that gunk out of your hair. Your turn to rest, big guy. Hop in the shower, I’ll put Evan to bed.”

He hums in agreement, getting up slowly. On his way out, he gives Evan a soft pat on the head; to which the small boy grins widely.

You do as you say, ushering Evan to his bed and getting him ready for a midday nap, thankful for the boy’s calmness and good nature. You read him a bedtime story, put on some soothing lullabies, and once you make sure he’s fast asleep, you head back to the kitchen and busy yourself with tidying up.

Mika is still soundly sleeping in the playpen, not having moved an inch from when you last left her. So, you pass the time by cleaning the place up. The dishes don’t do themselves, after all.

A familiar arm wrapping around your torso alerts you of Carlos’s presence. You turn around, a smile already on your lips. Now, he doesn’t even give you time to rebut, placing a firm and passionate kiss on your lips, much to your delight. You run a hand through his now-clean hair, playing with the slightly damp strands.

“You ever think…” Carlos begins, arms still wrapped soundly around your body, encasing you in a comforting hold. “Do you think that, maybe, we could have this one day?”

You smile, tilting your head. “This… Like, kids?”

He nods, his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for your response with bated breath. All that’s left for you to do is grin, nod, and peck him softly on the cheek: That in itself, is enough of an answer for Carlos to shower you in a flurry of kisses all over again.

Hi, i absolutely love your writing and i wanted to request an yuki × reader with a bit of angst but much fluff. Like where the readerhas an panic attack and yuki comforts her. 🫶

-latibule-

summary : latibule : a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort, which is in yuki's arms, where you are safe and sound...

PAIRING : yuki tsunoda x reader

WARNINGS : panic attack, angst

note : i know that yuki is short but in the imagine he's a bit taller. Hope you still like it.

masterlist 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your breaths came out in dangerously shallow breaths, your lungs never seemingly getting the oxygen it needed. You were having a panic attack and your mind was starting to focus on your attack and nothing else.

You sunk to the floor with a loud thud, desperately trying to hold your trembling body together. The door was suddenly opened and Kika, pierre's girlfriend, peeked his head through the gap, concern and worry washed over her upon seeing you on the floor.

“I heard a thud, are you okay, y/n. Do you want me to get yuki?” Kika asked, kneeling in front of you and holding your arms to get your attention as much as possible. 

You looked up at her with tears in your eyes, words seemed foreign to you, so you could only nod at her.

Kika nodded, hastily running out of your bedroom and sprinting to the office at the other end of the hallway. You closed your eyes, trying to get your breathing steady, but even that was too hard to do.

The door opened for the second time, your eyes opened, and you looked at the door despite the tears obstructing your view. Your hands reached out desperately when you recognized the person that came in.

“Y-yuki” you whimpered, reaching out for him. He was beside you faster than you could blink, pulling you into his arms tightly. He set your curled frame on his lap, gently rocking you back and forth, to south you.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay, you’re safe” Yuki said, running his hand through your hair as you fisted his uniform in your hand tightly and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“You need to breathe, can you do that for me? Inhale and exhale, come on, sweet” Yuki softly commanded, pulling away from you, and you looked at him. You tried to match his breathing, but it was still too hard.

“I-i-i c-can’t” you choked, finding yourself spiraling further into your attack. Yuki shook his head at you, cupped your face in his hands gently and tipped it up, so you could look in his eyes.

“Yes, you can. Look at me, inhale and exhale” You kept your eyes trained on him and tried to match his breathing again. He carefully caressed your cheekbones and continued to take slow and steady breaths with you.

“There you go. A few more times, inhale and exhale” Yuki said, nodding at you encouragingly. You took a few more breaths until you’ve calmed down enough to talk coherently.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what caused my attack” you said, looking down to avoid his gaze. He put a finger underneath your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze again.

“Hey, none of that, you don’t need to apologize for things you can’t control” He said, tone stern but gentle. You nodded, and he kissed your forehead, tucking your face into his chest again.

You sat there for what felt like hours, taking comfort from his warm arms around you and letting his presence comfort you, your eyes started closing, feeling the emotionally draining effects of having a panic attack settling in.

Yuki noticed that you were starting to get tired, pulling away from you a bit to look at you. He gingerly brushed away the hair from your face, and you looked up at him tiredly.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” He asked, and you nodded, he mumbled a small ‘okay’ and lifted you in his arms with ease. You nuzzled into his chest again, letting your eyes close.

Pierre, Kika, yuki and you went on vacation, as the summer break begun. You and Kika wanted to share a room together and to gossip about the two f1 drivers.

Both of them were not as amused as they heard the news, that they didn't share a room with their girlfriends but their best friend. 

Yuki brought you to his room down the hall, set you on his bed side. You curled up on his sheets, taking comfort from the faint smell of his aftershave and shampoo.

“Do you want to change into comfier clothes?” He asked, showing you your clothes that you left in his suitcase. You nodded, sitting up on his bed, and started undressing the remaining layers that you had on.

Yuki looked at you, slowly reaching his hand out to help you with your bra and giving you the option to stop him. You nodded at the silent consent he was asking for.

Respectfully and carefully, yuki took off the bra and helped you get dressed into comfier clothes. Afterward, he also got changed into comfy clothes and got under the covers with you.

You nestled close, resting your head on his chest, and listened to the soft thumps of his heart underneath. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and cradled the back of your head gently.

“Thank you, baby” you whispered and closed your eyes. Yuki kissed the top of your head, letting it linger for a bit. He held you until your body went limp in his arms, your breathing calm and even.

You slipped into a state of unconsciousness, safe and protected in your boyfriend's arms.

babies :(

‧˚⊹ 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀 ଓ :: 𝗖𝗟𝟭𝟲 ‧₊˚⤾

— you are reading :: part eight !!

╭╯ pairing . . . charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader ) ┊ summary . . . forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies ) ┊ genre . . . angst ) ┊ word count . . . ) ┊ song . . . link ) ╰╮ warning . . . X )

★ ☆ v. late, mi opolgies ━━━━━━━━

( fic masterlist | general masterlist ) ( requests ) ( taglist )

"You play?" You called though the apartment, crouching down infront of the piece. "I took the Leclerc's for more of . . . classical instruments." You noted, admiring the piece.

Arthur peaked his head from the wall, looking at you confused. "Ahhh." He snapped his fingers once he saw the red electric guitar leaning on the stand against the wall. "That's not mine, that's yours." He disappeared behind the wall again.

"Mine?" You frowned, confused. You didn't play any instruments as far as you could remember—

You entered the room loudly strumming the guitar to the tune of 'do i want to know' by arctic monkeys. "Mon Dieu, qu'ai-je jamais fait pour te déplaire. S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi." [dear god, what have i ever done to displease you. please forgive me] charles screamed into his hoodie as you stood on the background. "Have you ever been beaten by a wet spaghetti noodle because you confused your girlfriend for her twin sister and fucked her dad? That's what it's like to drive a Ford f2 50." You could hear the other quartet boys wheezing on stream while charles bit on his sleeve to muffle his screams.

You chuckle pulling the case open. You're met by a nice surprise. Tons of polaroid photos fill the case, leaving enough space for the guitar. They were all pictures of you and Charles, dating from the beginning of your relationship till mid 2020 during lockdown.

"I don't think he would've hid that here if he knew you put all these there." Arthur chuckled, holding up a cup of hot coffee ( or was it chocolate? ) for you.

It was both. You sipped the drink, looking at the memories. "What'd you mean?" "Charles didn't think it was as romantic as playing the piano in the morning." The older brother-in-law, Lorenzo, commented as he walked through the hallway.

"Speaking of mister romantic." Arthur sat beside you wiggling his eyebrows. "You like him." You dry laughed which did end up in an actual laugh.

"vous êtes en retard de plusieurs semaines." [you're late by a few weeks] Pascale corrected her youngest son as she stopped by the room, looking at you with a soft smile. You shrugged, sharing the smile.

"Je serais idiot de ne pas tomber amoureuse de mon mari." [i'd be an idiot to not fall for my husband] I joked. Arthur folded his arms squinting his eyes, giving you a suspicious look. "Donner une raison." [give reason] He demanded.

"What is this? An exam." You scoffed with a laugh, nudging his shoulder. "For sentimental reasons." You stuck your tongue out at him, putting the guitar in the case and collecting your things to leave.

"Ie dois partir . . . uhh— maintenant!" [i have to go, uhh now] You snapped your finger once you remembered the word, kissing Pascale's cheek gently. The family gave you smiles and waved farewells as you put your shoes on and left for your car.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"im safe" was the only message in the chat. You'd texted Charles almost a week ago to assure him of your safety. You didn't tell him where or with who you were, maybe that was why he didn't answer.

Was he angry? He probably was.

You sighed deeply, pocketing your phone as you approached your hotel room. You unlocked the door, pushing your suitcase inside. Charles was here, you could smell his cologne, or maybe because the shower was running and no one else would shower in your room.

Your eyes undiluted upon seeing the two separate beds.

The bathroom door unlocked and Charles stepped out. He was definitely surprised to see you, he wasn't expecting you till tomorrow. And you could tell. He wouldn't be standing there, naked, if he knew you'd be there.

"Sorry." Your voice came out raspy as you tore your eyes away from his bare flesh, looking away. You cleared your voice with a cough, starting to unpack your belongings in the closet. You could hear him move around before he reached for clothes from behind you. You could feel the steam from his skin and his breath on your neck as he paused to look down at your timid figure which got even timid-er when he trapped you between your arms, leaning closer to you.

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath as you felt Charles lips ghost on the skin on your neck. A gasp left your mouth as you felt his hands trail down your chest and hips. "Charles." His name left your tongue like a prayer.

"Please." "You want me?" "I need you." You pleaded, trying to lean back into his body only for him to pull away. "You want me?" "I do. I need you." You begged again, feeling shame flow through your body as you breathed out the words.

"Char . . . les?" You felt him pull away with a scoff. Your face reddened with embarrassment as you heard him dress before taking his leave.

"You've finally done it." You mumbled to yourself stepping in the shower. From going to begging for you to rejecting you. This marriage was dead wasn't it? With a quick shower and tidy up, you collapsed on the not taken bed, staying there for the rest of the night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hehe, look at you!" "Me? Your face is basically- AMOUR!" Charles could feel his faint shouting and your giggling as he gently closed the hotel door after him. He kicked his shoes off before slowly taking strides to your non-moving blanket-covered figure.

He could see the light from the screen under the blanket, colors and figures moving. "Charles!" "Stay still- Y/N! Stop pulling- Y/N!" Your giggles and laughs filled his ears as he gently pulled the blanket to reveal the old digital flip screen camera playing videos from its files.

He could see his younger self trying to pull you closer from your jaw, trying to reach your lips and when he did he kissed you deeply, not wasting the chance to make out with you.

"You know I love you, cheri?" "Oh?" Your drunk voice sounded through the room. "You're so sweet carli-" Charles took the camera, shutting it off with an angry huff.

His eyebrows furrowed. He looked down at you ready to give you a scowl or a scolding only to find you sleeping, far away in dreamland. His shoulders relaxed as he admired you.

What happened? He kept thinking. It was not your fault you said these words. You were frustrated and confused. Heck you were a Seventeen year old, who woke up from a nap to find herself 7 years in the future in a 25 year-olds life and with her expectations.

"I'm sorry." He found himself murmuring quietly, the bed dipping as he sat next to you, gently brushing your messy hair from your face.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"JESUS!" You stomped angrily, ripping your helmet and balaclava off. "Calm down, Y/N." "Don't tell me to calm down! You yourself said it was bad."

"No no, Y/N." Your mechanic tried to hold you back only for you to shove your helmet in his chest. "LANDO!" You called the British out and you approached his garage. "What the fuck was that?! Huh? Are we playing bumper cars?"

Lando sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked out, ready to shut you up. "You're making a scene." He scolded you, taking your arm to pull you somewhere private. "I am! That was crazy. You're crazy."

"Why do you care?" He stopped in his tracks, looking you straight in your eyes. "You crashed Charles out? He's in the hospital? He's my husband? You hurt my husband." I argued, not being able to stand him.

"He's not your husband." your eyes widened at his statement. "He's Y/N's husband. He's my best friend's husband. I don't know where she is but I'm definitely not looking at her."

You clenched your jaw and fists, glaring at him as he walked away. You took long strides in the other direction.

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"Fuck!" You screamed in your car over and over again as you parked at the hotel. You just wished you were back in f3, you wish this was all a nightmare, a bad dream and you'd wake up any second now and score p19 in that damn race.

Lando was right, you weren't Y/N. Nothing that you had was yours, you shouldn't have any of it all. You shouldn't even be here.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Again?" Charles grumbled, looking around the empty hotel room. Your things were here, but you were nowhere to be found. "Fucking hell Y/N." He cussed, going down the hall to look for you. You might've been at Lando's or Max's?

Neither. One had shrugged and told Charles he last saw you with Lando and the other told him that he last had a fight with you before you walked off. Great.

your things were here but you weren't. Maybe you were on a run? Yes, that must be it. You were just running your stress off, like you always do right? Charles waited. and waited. and waited. it was 4am, he was laying in your bed, his arm in the sling hurting and his eyes burning from lack of sleep.

Great. fucking great—

creak

and there you were, standing at the door, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. "Y/N, what the actual fuck?!" You flinched, looking up scared as he stomped over. You were ready for a scolding or for him to should, or hit you even. but you were instead pulled into his chest by his one good arm.

"Where the fuck have you been." ok he did scold you, but you still felt better in his arms. so you stayed there, hugging him for the rest of the morning. "your arm—" "fucking fine. just— SHH!" you stayed quiet, letting him nuzzle in your neck and caress your head.

"Where?" "Drive?" "Why?" "Needed to clear my head." "All night?" "Mhm." I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Text me then." "I did?"

You did. Take a guess on who blocked his number. "Sorry." "Just— dont fucking run off like that. It scares the shit out of me."