Norrisrecoms - Tumblr Posts

╭┈ • ┈ ୨ welcome to norrisreads ୧ ┈ • ┈╮

╰₊𓂂➢ nethie, 21, she/her

╰₊ 𓂂➢ fav drivers: cs55 cl16 ln4 ms47 fa14

╰₊ 𓂂➢ prefers writing angst & fluff fics, i don’t write smuts

╰₊ 𓂂➢ come and go quite often, do req though!

↳ charles leclerc

⌁ style 1989 - angst & sprinkle of fluff

⌁ illicit affairs - angst & fluff (most popular)

↳ lando norris

⌁ seems familiar - fluffs smau

⌁ sweetest pie part one part two - fluff smau series

↳ yuki tsunoda

⌁ into you - fluff smau

↳ pierre gasly

⌁ set fire to the rain part one part two - angst & fluff

↳ carlos sainz

⌁ the city of love - fluffs smau

⌁ kiss me kiss me - fluffs smau

⌁ dangerous woman one two three four

↳ mick schumacher

⌁ illicit affairs - angst, fluff

⌁ photograph - fluff (NEW!)

— navigations 🏎️

#norrisrecoms : for recommendations fics

#NRincomingwip wip list 🚧

until I found you - lance stroll

she’s all i wanna be - pierre gasly

the colour violet - max verstappen

kiss me kiss me part 2 - carlos sainz

sweetest pie part 3 - lando norris

dangerous woman 2 3 4 - carlos sainz

#talkswnethie🎙️

just ideas,inspo about fics or me blabber bout myself :-)

#staytuned🎧

song recommendations, mainly my fics are song titles!

—✩࿐ end note : im still new to tumblr, but i am always coming up w ideas to spice up my writings :-)!

╰┈•┈୨ goodbye, see you again ୧┈•┈╯

---

this is so good oml

Hi I loved your rocket scientist x Lewis fic! I was wondering if you could do another one with the reader being a mechanical engineer? Love all of your docs btw!

-sincerely an electrical and mechanical engineering student (double major I know I’m insane 😅)

Charles Leclerc x Newey!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nnewey posted a story

f1wagupdates

Liked by leclercupdates, paddockstyle, and 47,213 others

f1wagupdates Charles Leclerc and Y/N Newey make their first official outing as a couple at the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony

View all 529 comments

solordesque i guess the date charles practically begged for during that radio call ended up going well

y/nnewey a little extra motivation to win never hurt anybody 😉

charles_leclerc it hurt my pride

y/nnewey poor baby and yet you managed to survive

ferraribeat you love to see it! charles and y/n are the ultimate team both on and off the track

trulytifosi truly the power couple we didn't know we needed

forzaleclerc they’re hotter than the ferrari power unit in the pre-y/n era

smoothoperator too soon 😭

y/nnewey

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 437,952 others

y/nnewey he did get a second date … and a third … and a fourth …

View all 1,068 comments

charles_leclerc but she made me work for it

y/nnewey had to make sure you were driving my baby to its full potential first

charles_leclerc your baby?

y/nnewey the SF-24 of course

charles_leclerc i thought i was your baby?

y/nnewey well this is awkward

scuderiaferrari and he’ll get a second championship … and a third … and a fourth … 👀

y/nnewey we’re working on it 🫡

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/nnewey, pierregasly, and 1,283,674 others

charles_leclerc she still won’t let me read her secret notebook

View all 3,251 comments

y/nnewey i’ll let you read my notebook when you let me drive your pista

charles_leclerc hey i already let you drive my pista!

y/nnewey no, you make us switch seats so i can park it for you. there’s a difference

charles_leclerc because you’re better at parking than i am

carlossainz55 mate, everyone is better at parking than you are

adriannewey the first rule of the secret notebook is: you do not talk about the secret notebook. the second rule of the secret notebook is: you DO NOT talk about the secret notebook

y/nnewey i learned from the best

formulagossip i’m convinced that the neweys are carrying around the truth about aliens, atlantis, and the bermuda triangle in their notebooks

y/nnewey i’d tell you, but then i’d have to 💀 you

---

so so so good, i love love this and i’m always looking forward to this 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.

→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"

→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.

kollhha – 3 hr ago

I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.

adriennewells – 40 min ago

no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?

Anonymous – 10 min ago

They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.

June 10th, Los Angeles, California

You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.

"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.

"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.

"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"

You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.

"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."

"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"

"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."

You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.

"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."

"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.

You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"

"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"

"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.

Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"

"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.

"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."

The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.

"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"

Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"

"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"

"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."

The Cannes party. Of course.

You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.

"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.

You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?

"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"

You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.

“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.

“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.

This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.

"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"

Again with Charles, it infuriates you.

"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"

"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"

"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"

Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."

The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.

You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?

A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.

Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.

You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.

Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.

Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.

Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.

And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.

FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH

[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞

[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞

[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞

[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞

[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞

[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞

[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.❞

[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞

[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞

[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞

[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞

[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞

[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞

[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞

[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞

[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞

[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞

[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞

[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞

[END]

You are looking at the all the comments.

aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON

flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!

thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad

ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.

presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch

albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones

ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL

kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE

June 12th, SoHo, New York.

You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.

Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.

The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.

It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.

Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.

It's a FaceTime call from Charles.

"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"

Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."

"Oh, you saw that."

"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.

"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.

"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."

"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."

"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."

"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.

"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.

"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"

"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"

Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”

“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.

“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

if you are not tagged please check your blog settings because tumblr isn't letting me tag you

---

this is so so good, i love every single scenes that was written. I sobbed a lil ngl……. It’s so good, i look forward to this every single day😭 but im so angry at charles lol..

Set Fire [CL16]

pairing; Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!reader

series warnings; smut, fluff, angst, profanity, age gap ( reader is 21, Charles is 26), sexual tension, death, friends to enemies to lovers.

chapter warnings; not proofread, angst, mentions of death, mentions of traumatic experiences, the enemies to almost lovers part.

word count; 16k +

summary; Jules Bianchi's legacy lives through her, and as Y/N battles the highs and lows of racing, she also has to battle her heart

authors note; this is a part three of birthday cake, the love I've received from all my posts still amaze me everyday, I am grateful for all the kind words and love. I hope this exceeds expectations. This one is a bit early, because I just couldn't stop writing it... next part will be the finale, and it not only will fluffy to give you guys a break from the heartache, it'll be spicy toooo

taglist; @writerscurse @chonkybonky @chimchimjiminie16 @formula1mount @tempo-rary-fix @luciaexcorvus @vita-di-moda @livsters @teenagedreams-cl @kudesakaisiite @janeholt3 @kingexplosionm @anthonykatebridgerton @smiithys @charlesfrontwing @ryiamarie @angelayse @twobluejeans @justmemewriting @joonipere @1eclerc16 @gentlemonsterjennie1

@wildmavs @milasexutoire. @leclercdream @youkissedareaderinthedark @lilacsimps @ru-kru @notsosurehritika @dracoswhore @lovvelyyj @chiliwhore

<- previous next ->

'Cause I knew that that was

The last time, the last time

“Ma fraise,” he called to her sweetly, standing in the room of his twelve-year-old sister. She had been hunched over her desk, scribbling down her homework to have it completed by the time she had to go to her next karting race. 

“Jules,” she grinned at him, turning from her essay and looking up at her brother.

“I’ve come to say goodbye,” he smiled sadly at her, he had only been home for a few days before he had to go back to Japan for the 2014 Japanese Grand Prix.

“Why are you going now?” She pouted, having felt like she spent little to no time with him while he had been home, despite spending every waking moment she could with him.

“It’ll just be a little trip, I’ll be back home in no time,” Jules convinced her, feeling the same sadness as her. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay with her, help her through her own race. 

“When will I see you again?” She sighed, knowing the hectic schedule of a Formula One driver, knowing that he could be away for months.

“Soon, soon, ma fraise,” he smiled wider at her, kneeling down beside her chair. “You know goodbyes aren’t forever.”

“Goodbye Jules,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jules replied back, gripping her tightly in the hug before leaving her life for good that time.

Being inside that house always gave her a sad sense of nostalgia, inside her childhood room. The moment she could, she had moved into her own house in Nice, setting up a life of her own. Pictures littered the walls of the building, pictures of Jules and her as children, pictures of her family and friends. She had made it her safe place, her home.

Lando stood patiently beside her, hand on her bare waist as she guided him through her parents house. He had been there a million times before, smiled with her parents and joked when her older siblings were around. This time though, they never denied the allegations of them being more than friends, but they never admitted it either.

The media had caught wind of their frequent sightings together, spinning a million different stories. 

Star crossed lovers; rivals on the grid and lovers off it.

They hadn’t bothered to address the media, letting them spin whatever story they could. Lando wasn’t the only driver she had been paired with, her and Daniel being accused of having an affair, and her and Max were “spotted” too cosey on the beach, but Lando had been the main man of the stories. The rumours with Charles had died as quickly as they came the previous year after Ferrari had announced their strict HR policy, quoting that co workers were not to fraternize with each other unless married.

The party for Lorenzo’s birthday had originally been in Monaco, though due to some scheduling issues with Pascale’s renovations of her home, they had shifted it to Nice. None of the Leclerc boys had backyards as they lived in penthouse apartments, but even standing on a balcony overlooking the country would have been an adequate view for a party, and Y/N all but refused to have everyone within her own backyard. But, nevertheless, the Leclerc’s and Bianchi’s had their traditions, a party was always thrown in someone’s backyard, and they weren’t going to give that tradition up.

“Lando,” her mother’s thick accent called out to him, “can you help Phillipe move those tables outside?”

“Of course,” he nodded his head, his British accent standing out against the French and Monegasque ones. 

“Good, good,” She nodded her head, smiling at him as he walked away. Turning towards her youngest daughter, she continued, “Tu vas aider Charles avec les petits gâteaux you’re going to help Charles with the cupcakes.”

“Mais maman! Nous ne nous aimons toujours pas, but mum! We still don’t like each other,” Y/N whined, crossing her arms like a toddler.

Christine had rolled her eyes, though it did bring back fond memories of her as a child, and said, “Je m'en fiche, va aider, I don’t care, go help.”

With a huff, the girl gritted her teeth and followed her mother’s orders. She was hesitant to walk into the kitchen, loitering around the hallway trying to find an excuse as to why she couldn’t help him. After that kiss in Abu Dhabi, the pair hadn’t spoken, their relationship yet again on hiatus. Exhaling a heavy sigh, she rubbed her temples harshly before reminding herself who she was. She was the first ever woman to win a Grand Prix, she could handle being in the same room alone with the man she ached for. 

She was silent as she walked in, Charles acknowledging her presence with a quick glance before continuing his task. Pascale and Christine had bought hundreds of cupcakes, knowing there was going to be a large amount of children present at the party, and that Lorenzo’s co workers would be attending as well. 

Standing alongside him, she began placing cupcakes on the golden stands, creating a pattern with the different shades of icing that was appealing to the eye, a stark contrast against Charles haphazard placement of his cupcakes.

There were blue ones, the blue of glacier meltwater, pale with an iridescence not easily forgotten. Green as well, some of them were the shade of the merry greens of new spring foliage illuminated by sunny rays. There were white ones, the white of newborn daisy petals. And there were yellow ones, the sort of yellow that glows from a homely hearth, the sort that warms you just to see it, even before the steady flame can bring a glow to your skin.

The yellow ones had been her favourite, decorated delicately with edible flower petals. They were pretty, in a soft sort of way. They reminded her of summer, of a newly radiant sun stepping forth from the spring time, wrapping them in its warm and brilliant rays. 

“Do you always have to make everything a competition?” He huffed at her as she finished off another tray that was beautifully decorated with the multicoloured cupcakes.

“What do you mean?” She rolled her eyes, starting another display as she pushed her finished ones off to a seperate side. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed his set up, “why do you always have to make things look so ugly?”

“Se chamailler comme des enfants, c'est un début, non? Bickering like children is a start, no?” Lorenzo whispered to his younger brother as they walked past the kitchen, catching the interaction briefly before joining the people outside and helping them move furniture.

Rolling his eyes, Charles mumbled incoherently as he began to rearrange his cupcake tower. There was no way in hell he was going to let her cupcakes outshine his. The man had become petty after Abu Dhabi, refusing any contact with either Lando or Y/N. He needed to protect peace, but how could he ever be at peace without her?

“Don’t answer it,” Charles whispered as she pulled away from him and towards it.

“He’s my best friend,” she whispered back.

“If you answer it, this won’t happen again, I will know where I stand,” Charles warned, and he swore he could have cried when he watched her pick up the phone. Heart breaking into tiny little pieces again.

She had answered the call, looking him in the eyes as she spoke, “hello?”

“I’m on my way to your room, you better be ready before I drag you out, muppet,” Lando’s voice rang through his ears, echoing through his mind. He could still taste her lips, but the once sweet taste turned bitter, “Also, make sure you wear those earrings.”

“I will,” she confirmed, and to Charles that set everything in stone. He had gotten her earrings, he had declared his claim on her through jewellery. But that wasn’t what had happened at all, Lando hadn’t gotten her those earrings, a fan had made them for her. They were stupid, meant to be a gag gift, one side had been a resin poured horse with a meme of her face in it, and the other was a resin poured car with the number seventeen scribbled onto it. 

Before Charles could even hear the rest of it, he left. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked, tail between his legs and ears pressed firmly to his head. The sight wounded her, but she hadn’t moved to stop him.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N continued with the task at hand. She hated him for trying to make her choose between them, to either choose the man that had brought light back into her life or the man that had left her because he thought she didn’t need him. She also hated herself for picking up the phone, regretting answering as soon as she did, but there had been no turning back once Lando had answered her.

She was only human, and she knew that mistakes would always be evident in her life. She hadn’t realised that her mistake was the same as his, if they had just explained their actions, explained their feelings, then they would already have been together by that point.

Her mind wandered as she continued her task, zoning out as she did wordlessly. Y/N Bianchi was born to make history, it hadn’t been the intention, but it had been set in stone once she got inside her little kart as a child. She knew that in the end everyone would judge her, she remembered being at school and giving up all her free time to be just like her brother, refusing birthday invitations and declining play dates at such a young age. She became that good of a driver because she sacrificed her whole life for it, and when Jules had died, she sacrificed her education as well. Racing was her whole life, she didn’t remember a moment that didn’t include something about it.

The fear of failure, or rejection, of something going wrong would never go away, but she had learnt that she had to do everything afraid. She was happy for Lando, he caused that fear to disappear. They met for a reason, a reason the universe would only hint at but never give them the full answers until they figured it out for themselves. She had other friends, and she had family, but Lando was a friend that became her family.

As a woman in the male dominated sport, she knew that if she made even one mistake, the world would never forgive her. They would tear her to shreds, and they had done. At one stage, the entire country of the United States had torn her to bits over a heated reaction, and she had been punished by her team for it.

She hadn’t even realised he had been speaking to her, and he had simply assumed she was ignoring him to be petty. It wasn’t until he clicked in front of her face did she come back to reality, glaring up at him.

“What?” She groaned at him, eyes squinting in a glare and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Faut-il toujours que tu sois une garce? must you always be a bitch?” He huffed at her, “I asked you four times if you wanted help taking them out, you just ignored me.”

“Trou du cul, asshole,” she huffed at him, placing the last cupcake on a tray. Turning to grab a tray she was stopped by his hand. 

His grip was strong but not painful as he held her wrist, pulling her closer to him. His other hand resting softly on the side of her neck. In his eyes was his humanity, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would wear that Ferrari suit, when he became the man the world demanded of him. But in that moment she saw it in his eyes, the love that burnt there, the sort that went for an eternity. 

Their faces were inches apart, his eyes scanning her face and gouging her reaction. For all he knew, her boyfriend was out their setting tables for his older brothers birthday, but she was in the kitchen with him, making no movement to escape his loosening grip.

“I don’t want you here,” he whispered to her, “I want us to go back to the way it was, where I wouldn’t attend your family gatherings and you wouldn’t attend mine.”

But I set fire to the rain

Watched it pour as I touched your face

The rain was heavy, beating against their skin as they giggled between each other. Rain touched their skin as a mother's kisses, quenching and with the ever promise of more. Rain be-speckled gems upon his skin bring his beauty into every clearer definition. The water conjured a sweet pattern upon her skin, the thousands of liquid globes reflecting the greenery of nature. It was cooling on the once warm day, a welcome shower to add to the senses.

Her giggle warmed his soul as well as any hearth warms the skin. The giggle rolled about the backyard like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heart warming as it moved around the people on the back porch in its chaotic way. It came in fits and bursts - loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

Christine and Philippe were furious at their youngest children, Y/N had raced off into the rain despite being told she was not allowed to play. Though her eight year old self never listened very well to her parents. Jules had scurried after his little sister, leaving behind Arthur as he had been showing him some pictures from his latest race. Charles had wanted to go help his god father get his little friend, but had decided he didn’t want to risk a cold due to his up and coming race in the next week.

Her brother was the greatest blessing the universe could ever have brought her and thus his responsibility for her was of the same measure. Sometimes the memory of him made her sad, older brothers can get you like nothing else. Jules - fiercely loyal and overprotective, like sheever needed that. 

His little sister was the keeper of his soul, and he was the guardian of hers.

Soon enough, the chase to get her back under shelter had turned into a game of hide and seek. Her laugh always gave her away, though before he could catch her, she would scurry away to a new spot. That time though, her laugh had turned into a cry. 

Her cry was from the heart and stretched his soul in pain, he had found her behind the tree, but she had not run from him this time. The cry was loud enough to alert the others upon the patio, convincing Charles that braving through a cold during his race was not that bad. The Monagasque raced out, following the cry until he found them both huddled behind the tree.

Y/N had held her hand to the slash, but no matter the pressure she applied the blood had still gushed between her fingers and oozed under her hand. It had spread into Jule’s rain-damp t-shirt, the bright red quickly darkening, taking on a brownish hue. 

“Charles!” She blubbered as the thirteen year old boy removed her hands and pressed his own against her wound. “Jules, it hurts.”

“I know, ma fraise,” he cooed, pushing her wet hair away from her face before ripping off a piece of his old t shirt and wrapping it around her small leg.

Charles had helped her stand, but as she leant into Jules’ larger body, the man picked her hip and held her against his chest. Her tear stained cheeks were puffy and red, one side resting against his shoulder as she looked at her brother’s face with glassy eyes. Her little hand touched his face, the rain quick to wash away any blood that had transferred onto him.

“Oh, ma bébé, oh my baby,” Christine cooed as she met the three on the steps, taking her daughter into her arms and rushing her inside. Phillipe had ran her a warm bath, while Jules was quick to go into the kitchen to find the first aid kit. The boys were dripping rainwater all over the Bianchi’s tiles, but their mind far too clouded with Y/N’s well-being to care too much about the damages they may cause.

“Tom why don’t you get Charles some clothes,” Melanie suggested before walking into the bathroom, helping her little sister peel off the wet clothes and assess the damages of her torn skin. 

The gash had been pretty deep, though luckily not deep enough that it needed stitches.

“Jules,” she hiccuped as she shivered in the warm bath, “I want Jules.”

“He’s getting the first aid, chéri,” Melanie cooed as she rubbed a wet cloth over the girls face, removing the snot and tears.

“This is what happens when we play in the rain,” Christine scolded softly, “we won’t do that again will we?”

Shaking her head, Y/N pouted, “I just wanted to have fun.”

“I know,” Christine sighed, rubbing the girls scalp, “you wash up and Jules will come in and fix your leg, hmm?”

“Okay,” she nodded her head, lying back into the water that was slowly turning red.

She had been careful, refusing to touch her leg as she succumbed to the warmth of the water, not jumping out until her head began to get dizzy from the steam. Her small feet were planted on the ground as she reached for her hooded towel, it had a picture of a ballerina printed onto it, pretty and pink. 

Jules had knocked twice before entering alone, eyes softening as he saw the red bath. She had hurt herself bad, slipping on the wet rocks and cutting the back of her leg badly. If it was up to him, from that point on, she’d be wrapped in bubble wrap and stay by his side forever, but he knew that was no life for a little kid.

“Ma fraise,” he pouted, checking her leg to see the bleeding had stopped. It looked painful, and he could only imagine how she felt. “Let’s get you bandaged up.”

“I’m going to tell Louisa that I got attacked by a tiger,” she mumbled as her brother placed an ointment that stung onto the wound before wrapping it in cream gauze. “Juliana and Rowena won’t believe me, but Louisa will.”

“Battle wounds,” he chuckled, “we will say you got it after we explored the jungle.”

“I’ll also say that you defended me and now we have it as a pet cause I was too pretty for it to hurt me more,” she nodded her head, confident in the lie now that her brother had her back, like he always did.

“But what about when they come over to play?” Jules questioned as he taped the guaze to her leg, “we will say that Charlie, Tutur, and Enzo took him for the weekend.”

“They don’t come over to play, silly,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m too busy practicing to be like you and Charlie to be playing with dolls.”

Jules frowned at that, “you are not spending time with your friends?”

She shook her head, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world, “I have to practice, and when I don’t, I want to be with you or Charlie.”

“That is sweet, ma fraise,” he cooed, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “but you need to spend time being a kid as well, having tea parties and sleepovers.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “but they don’t like karting, so I can’t play with them.”

“You like ballerinas and princess still, non?” Jules questioned, he hadn’t realised how much he had missed being away at races, and his parents never told him she wasn’t hanging out with her friends anymore, “you can play pretend doing those things with them.”

“I’d rather play with you,” she shook her head, taking his hand in hers and trotting out of the bathroom.

I let it fall, my heart

And as it fell, you rose to claim it

Her house was a kaleidoscope of memories, of photographs adorning the walls, each of them conjuring the emotions of those sweet eternal moments. The house had large arched windows. Through them light flew through all seasons, gracing the air without favour, illuminating the sweet-toffee browns of the wooden floor. It felt like there was a song in the walls of the house that raised her spirits in quiet moments, when the wind became still air and it sounded as if the world had paused to take a moment to breathe. In those silent words, in the purity of its expression, she found her inner peace and realised that she was home. That house was her home, where the laughter happened and she could rest at the end of the day. From the street it was bricks and mortar topped with tile, the same as any other French home in Nice. Yet if people stepped inside they’d feel that it was so different, a place where the lungs chose to fill a little deeper and the heart beat a little steadier.

The backyard was a miniature woodland of holly trees and native shrubs, each of them trimmed as if they were green flames. To move about them was a sort of music, a poetry that cannot be spoken in words, yet was heard and calmed everything that she was. Her backyard was a sanctuary for nature and in that it became her own place of serenity.

She sat on the hanging chair, knees pressed to her chest as she nursed a glass of white wine. Louisa, Juliana, and Rowena had all been over for dinner that night. The girls were in fits of giggles and laughter, gossiping about the latest work dramas. Once they had left though, Y/N’s thoughts began to run rampant. It had been the only downside of moving out and living on her own, refusing the offer of moving in with Lando. She had all the time in the world to think when she was alone, her hobby was her job, and maybe if she hadn’t sacrificed so much of her childhood to it, she could’ve found something else to occupy herself with. But she wasn’t the biggest fan of video games, and she didn’t like playing any other sports than the one she got paid for, she wasn’t a good artist, and if she tried something and failed, she never did it again. 

She had thought about getting a dog, but with the amount of free time she never had she believed it would be cruel to leave it on its own, and she would never want to put the burden onto her parents. And forcing Lando to Nice every day was off the table, just because she had issues in Monaco didn’t mean he had them too. Arthur visited her frequently, giving her subtle life updates about Charles every so often, but for the majority just wanting to spend more time with her outside of the grid.

The buzzing of her phone had caught her attention quickly, Lando’s face popping up.

“Salut, ma moitié, hi, my. other half” she answered, a small smile coming onto her face.

“You need to talk to him,” he was instantly cutting to the chase, having heard enough from Max about Charles incessant nagging about their relationship. He couldn’t stress enough that they were just friends, and whenever Max would bring that fact to light to Charles, he would always counter with, well we were friends once too.

“He can’t expect me to choose, I chose him my whole life, and the moment feelings were shared it was like he didn’t exist anymore,” she frowned, a pout forming on her lips as she stared at a strawberry plant growing in one of the many pots she had littered on her back patio, “I chose him before and he left me, I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

She could hear his groan, and could imagine the way he rubbed his hands with his face. Lando loved her like a sister, always wanting what was best for her, but he hated being in the middle of it, he didn’t want to be the barrier between the pair anymore. Charles had been his friend too, a great one, until the media began to perpetuate a false narrative, “He didn’t want you to choose! He wanted you to prove that we weren’t a couple! He wanted you to show that you wanted him, not me!”

“It doesn’t matter now, it’s been months.” She replied softly, taking another sip of her wine before placing it on the side table. Putting the man on speaker phone, she rested the phone beside her on the cushion and hugged her legs. Her fingers fiddling with the golden bracelet.

“It had been years before, and you made your way back to each other, a few months is nothing,” Lando reasoned, he wasn’t on Charles' side. Absolutely not, he hated the way the older man had treated his best friend, but after hearing his side of the story from Max and Pierre, he couldn’t help but be a little more open minded. The pair were just suffering from a horrible case of miscommunication, and there was no one but themselves able to fix it.

“I can’t keep doing it to myself, going back and expecting a different result, I love him with all my heart, but I refuse to go back to the same man who broke it a million times,” she mumbled, Lando was lucky he had become so intuned with her accent and words that he could decipher what she was saying.  “Why is moving on so hard?”

“Because you not only have to let go of the past but also the future you wanted with him,” Lando spoke softly, “but I don’t think you should be moving on at all, Y/N, I think you should talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to say,” she said, pushing the palms of her hands into her eyes to stop herself from crying.

The man who Charles was before, when Jules was still around, the one she fell in love with, would have kicked his ass all over the goddamn floor for talking and acting towards her like that. Back then, Charles was someone. He was that guy, the one who had the principles and a backbone. The new Charles, the one she knew then, was not the same, but she couldn’t help but still love him. He acted as if her love was owed to him, but only gave her apathy in return. 

“Start by telling him how you feel,” he told her, already knowing what she had conjured up in that mind of hers.

“Where would I even start with that?” She grumbled, a pounding in her head starting to form.

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself,” Lando mumbled, “look, Y/N, I love you with all my heart, forever. But I’m not going to sit and watch both of you hurt in silence over a problem that could be solved with just sitting down together and talking.”

“That will never happen though, he hates me now,” She pressed, “unless you locked us in a room together with no escape, he’ll keep avoiding me.”

“Don’t give me ideas, Bianchi, race season is coming up and I know there’s only one entrance and exit of the drivers rooms,” Lando joked. “For now, sleep on it. I’m not demanding you call him straight away and confess for undying love, I’m telling you that you both need to talk, because it’s not just affecting you two anymore, the rest of us are feeling the tension and it’s splitting the grid in half.”

It was dark and I was over

Until you kissed my lips and you saved me

No other words were spoken when their lips grazed over each other. His rough hands were her medication, he heart song and her light, for she was in love with him. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His kiss was not at all the same as those movie stars, but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It was the promise of realness, of the primal desire that lived in everyone. And with it he tells her that he was awake, connected within, that he embraced himself rather than hid as a copy of those romantic idols.

In his kiss she felt at home.

In the emotion of the kiss a volume of passion was spoken that transcended the works of the great poets combined. In that moment they were their pure and vulnerable selves, baring all their flaws to one another and hoping they’d be accepted.

The depth of the sky's blue is as their love, that only over the years that they noticed the strength of the hue. Up close it was as clear as pure water, yet when they saw the miles it was the blue of fairytale dreams. The only people blind to it’s hue was them, together they made each other shine.

And then she answered the call.

Into the rich tapestry of the blue, came a woven blanket of hearth-spun grey, a comfort to each soul who dreamt upon such icy nights. The cold Monaco night borrowed body heat as if it were a cup of sugar, giving her ever more reason to draw closer to him, to feel the natural warmth he was born to give. But he wasn’t with her at that moment.

Amid the gently bowing branches, amid the bonny kin of flowers, a sense of serenity came to the cemetery. There was the greatest sense of love in the Monaco Cemetery, for there she felt her beloved Jules most strongly. Here she felt how her protected and guided her. From the earth of the cemetery seeps the love of those passed on, of Jules who was now an angel, protecting and guiding her from the after life.

Her arms wrapped around her body as she crouched down in front of his tomb. Wiping away any dust or grime that had accumulated since the last time she visited him, her hands freezing against the icy stone. 

Lando had offered his company that day, offered to go with her, but she had politely declined, wanting to be alone with her brother for just a few minutes until other grieving loved ones appeared on the grounds.

Her grief came in waves, at first they were so strong she felt so swept away. They came at such random moments, replacing a feeling of normalcy with those familiar tears. Yet in time those waves lessened and she let the good memories flood in instead, they allowed for waves of smiles and warmth, those funny or sweet things that were once said. When she had ridden the waves of grief she saw that she had a strong, strong heart. She saw that the pain stood as witness to the loving bond that survived his passing.

Sitting cross legged, she let herself fall foreword, head resting upon the stone. Her crying was a cleaning of her soul, a rebonding with her vulnerable self, a chance to realise what suffering and pain are for her and others. Her eyes never looked prettier when they were glossed over with tears, shining so sorrowfully in the moonlight.

“He kissed me,” she whispered to the stone, despite the grounds being empty, but she knew the routine of the other regulars, that soon she would no longer be alone with him. “He kissed me and then I ruined it.”

She could imagine Jules’ voice, comforting her, telling her it was going to be okay. Jules would have loved to watch her grow into the woman she had become, he had missed so much. He had missed her first kiss with a little French boy when she turned Fourteen, the awkwardness of it causing her to blush and race over to Arthur and tell him all about it. He had missed her wins in Formula 3, 2 and 1. He had missed her formals, watching her stress about dresses and crying in the mirror as she hated what her sister did with her makeup. He had missed seeing her in that Ferrari jumpsuit for the first time, he had even missed seeing her in the McLaren one when she was apart of their drivers academy. 

She wished he was there, hoped that he was still watching over her and cheering her on from the afterlife. At that moment, she wished more than anything to hear his voice, for him to tell her that she would be okay, that heartbreak is apart of life and she would grow stronger from it.

She didn’t want Lando, she didn’t want Charles, she didn’t want her mother and father, or her older brother and sister. She wanted Jules.

She needed him.

It had been nine years since his death, ten since she had heard his voice. The day she forgot what he sounded like sent her into a panic, her whole body seizing up as she rewatched old home videos just to memorise his voice again. 

“You will be okay, ma fraise,” she imagined him replying, “you haven’t ruined anything.”

She knew in his eyes he would never blame her for things, even if she was obviously in the wrong. If he had been there, he would have defended her with his whole heart against the media, he would have pulled some sense into Charles, he would have coddled and protected her from the bad things in the world. He would have risked his own life the way Charles did that day her car went up in flames, apart of her believed he was there that day, keeping her alive and redirecting the smoke from her lungs. She liked to believe that it wasn’t just Charles that breathed life back into her, but Jules as well.

“I love him,” she blubbered, “with my whole being, I am in love with him. Even when we hadn’t talked, even when I hated him, I loved him. I would tell Arthur to stop informing me of his life, but I was secretly grateful for the updates, even if the stories of his love life caused my already broken heart to shatter some more.”

“I don’t know if I can do this without either of you, I could handle it before, when the anger consumed me, but all that holds me is sadness now,” She continued, “sadness that you won’t meet Lando, who tries his absolute hardest to keep me happy, or that you won’t see me win my races, they’re all for you, everything I do is for you now. Charles hates me, he wants us to go back to the way it was, to when we wouldn’t cross paths outside of work. I’ve made a huge mistake, and I don’t think I can fix it.”

“I just,” she stuttered, glassy eyes seeing another woman walk through the cemetery with flowers in her hands, “I just don’t want to do this anymore, but I’m not good at anything else.”

“I’m scared, and I need you,” she finished with a sigh, wiping her tears away quickly. She kissed the tips of her fingers before wiping it over the stone, she used to kiss it directly when she was younger, but after getting sick, she had stopped doing that.

She didn’t want to go home, even though she knew it would bring her comfort, instead, she faced her fears and drove half an hour away. The streets of Monaco were never empty, no matter what the time or day was, there were always people out exploring the lands.

Driving up a track she had been a million times before, she swerved and dodged rocks and trees like she was apart of the nature. She would have been terrified of hiking the rest of the way up the lookout, if it wasn’t for the already depressing thoughts in her mind. But as she stood at the edge, her mind was clear. 

Monaco was beautiful.

And there it was, everything that ever mattered to her, a woven tapestry of the city and sea, far closer than any of them ever knew. It was a world without frontiers from above, land, water and cloud. From up there near the sky, it was so clear that the land was what people made of the city, that it needed them to plant trees and be good shepherds to its fauna. The view of the ocean calmed her soul, as if that body of water was as much within her as out there in the cradle of the city. As the city sat underneath the moonlit hours every light in that city was another story that was central to somebody else’s world. She liked to pretend that she was one of them, living a simpler and happier life. She knew her life was amazing compared to others, easier than those fighting for their lives everyday, but she couldn’t help those thoughts of wishing it was simpler.

“Y/N?” Her name echoed through the quiet place, alerting her of the presence of another. She knew that voice, it brought heartache to her everytime she heard it.

“Charles,” she whispered back, and thankfully for the silence, he still heard her say it. 

This had been their spot when they were kids, he had taken her there when she was ten and he was fifteen, showing her the magnificence of his home when she had said nothing was ever as beautiful as Nice. Almost weekly after that first time, did they go together. It was where she fell in love with him for the first time. 

He had been standing on the edge, the golden sunlight beating down on him as he spoke so enthusiastically about his races. It was that moment that something switched inside her, that the butterflies erupted in her stomach. She had tan home and told Jules about it, complaining that she had stomach problems after spending time with Charles, to which he explained that it most definitely wasn’t a tummy bug.

“What are you doing here?” Charles questioned her, slowly approaching her. 

“Just clearing my head,” she confessed, and as he sat down next to her, keeping a few metres distance, he noticed the red puffiness of her cheeks, as well as the dry tears that stained her face. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles mumbled, he knew he shouldn’t have asked that question, that he was the one who told her not that long ago that he didn’t want to see her anymore. He should have stuck to his word and turned back around to leave, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she sighed, eyes leaving the city to look down at her lap. “Just rethinking my life.”

“You’re not quitting Formula One are you?” He frowned, jaw clenching at the thought of her leaving her life’s work, especially when he believed he would be the cause.

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head.

“You don’t think so?” He repeated, “you’ve worked too hard to give it all up.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, picking at the nail polish on her fingernails, “I don’t think you really want to know what I think about, Charles, you don’t have to save face, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” he huffed at her, he wanted her to tell him that she was thinking about him, the same way he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Charles, I know you hate me right now, but I don’t want to talk, and I hope you can respect that,” she whispered, making a move to stand from her spot. 

She had stumbled on some loose gravel, and he had shot up with lightening speed, catching her before she fell, “saving your life again.” He had joked, but she didn’t laugh, she had simply nodded before heading back down the path towards her car, leaving him at the spot they used to share.

My hands, they're strong

But my knees were far too weak

With Max’s success already, it was obvious that the season was going to be dominated by the RedBull driver again. He had already secured first place for their first four races, and as they stood in the home grounds of Ferrari, one could only dream that the red cars would cross the finish line first. 

The Italian sun moored itself into the blue as if anchored to heaven's ether. The sun rays came as nature's easel, giving brilliant colour to what was hidden. 

She sat on the track, back against the gravel as she looked into the sky, not a cloud in sight. Soon enough Lando had joined her, lying so their heads were touching but their feet were far apart. And once Lando had joined her, so did Daniel, and after hours of trying to find his teammate, Max soon joined them as well. All four of them laid on the track in silence, from a Birds Eye view they looked like they created a star.

“Why are we doing this?” Max questioned after ten minutes, his eyes closed as he couldn’t handle staring at the sun for too long. 

“Clearing the head before a race,” Y/N revealed, “well that’s why I’m doing it.”

“What’s on your pretty little mind, Bianchi?” Daniel questioned, coming from Australia he was used to a hot sun.

“Nothing.”

“Probably that kiss between her and Charles last season,” Lando blurted out, exposing one of her secrets to her biggest rivals, the Red Bull drivers.

“Lando!” She squealed, sitting up instantly and turning to glare down at his shit eating grin. She knew she could trust both Daniel and Max, but that didn’t mean she wanted everyone to know her business. But she wasn’t truly mad about him saying that, she was more upset over the fact that that wasn’t even what she was thinking about. It was July 17th, her mind had worse things to dwell on.

“Fucking what?” Max gasped, he too sitting up from his position to eye Y/N suspiciously

Suddenly the mumbling from the boys went dead silent, a shadow passing over them briefly. In the corner of her eye she knew who had passed them, the unmistakable red pants catching her eye. For a moment she held her breath, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since Monaco, despite their need for communication on the track. It had been obvious there was tension between the pair, and their race positions showed it. Not once since they had come back did either of them get podium positions, she hadn’t even been close most races.

“When? When was this?” Max mumbled as soon as Charles had passed them.

“Abu Dhabi,” she confessed, the frown still etched on her face, “but that wasn’t even what I was thinking about.”

“Oh my god, Pierre owes me so much money,” he whispered to himself, though she had heard it, she chose to ignore it.

“This isn’t what I was thinking about,” she huffed, feeling overwhelmed with the fact that they weren’t listening to her. If Lando had just looked at her, he would have realised what was going on, what was happening.

“Well, why aren’t you together then?” Daniel questioned, her frustrations growing more and more as they openly ignored her words.She knew they didn’t mean to, but they made her feel small, like she wasn’t worth listening to. They made her feel like every other man in the industry, like she was just a woman, nothing else.

“Because he thinks we’re together,” Lando sighed, finally sitting up to look at them all. When his eyes met his best friends, that’s when it all clicked. The date, the need to look up at the sky, the silence, the frustration coming off of her like the suns rays. “Y/N..”

She was quick to stand, walking away from them with rushed footsteps. Lando stared at her retreating body with sympathy in her eyes, watching as she wiped at her face, presumably to keep the tears from leaking onto her jumpsuit. 

“It’s July 17th,” he sighed, internally cursing himself out for not realising sooner, for not being at her hotel doorstep and listening to her words. It wasn’t Charles she was thinking about, it was her brother.

“What’s July 17th?” Max questioned as Daniel’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” the Australian let out softly, he remembered that day like it was the last. The day one of his closest friends on the paddock had died. “It’s Jules’ anniversary.”

The red of the Ferrari motorhome and garage should have felt homely, should have warmed her heart at first sight, but all it brought back was bad memories. All the work she had done over the years to live with and learn from the grief had gone out the window, she didn’t know what it was. Whether it was the warmth of the Italian son that reminded her of that day on the beach, or if it was not being listened to or heard, or maybe it was Daniel’s eyes. Those brown eyes that held the same hue as Jules’ once did. She remembered that in his brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, as if they were the wood that could burn with golden flame yet be forever perfectly entire. 

“Y/N, they want you-“ her manager, Claire, stopped as she saw the girl with her head in her hands, the sounds of her sobs causing the older woman’s heart to constrict. She sounded so broken, the gasps and cries leaving her lips making the whole world shatter around her. Her manager knew her as a strong girl, taking the criticism on the chin and dishing a smile in return, standing her ground and forcing the world to hear her words. She was used to the girl that lived up to the title of first ever woman to win a Grand Prix, not the broken little girl that missed her brother.

Her manager took slow steps backwards, she knew that Charles and her had childhood history. She knew the pair had grown up together, so she knew he would know what to do. Claire had found him within seconds, he didn’t look the happiest either, a sort of broken glint in his teal eyes, but he wasn’t broken down like her.

“Charles,” she began, she had never really talked to the driver directly, only ever really dealing with Y/N and speaking to him through his own manager.

“Claire?” He questioned, a confused expression wiping over him until he read the signs on her face. He knew that whatever she had to say had something to do with Y/N, and as he knew the complications of that day, he knew it wasn’t good, “where is she?”

“Drivers room,” Claire sighed, “she’s not, she’s not good, I don’t think she should be racing today.”

“You don’t need to worry about the race, that’s my job,” Charles frowned as he walked away, following the pathway he knew like the back of his hand.

He could hear her sharp intakes of breath from outside the door, and he worried if she couldn’t breath. Opening the door, he hadn’t expected the best scene, but he hadn’t expected that either. She looked the exact same as that day nine years ago, bent over crying. He wondered if she was like that every year, and the thought made him want to throw up, because if she had, that meant he had waisted eight years not being there for her.

“Ma fraise,” he spoke softly, dropping to his knees and cradling her body. She instantly curled into him, her arms wrapping around his neck and her head shoved deep into his chest. She didn’t refuse his touch or tell him to leave, and her reaction made him feel even worse, because if he had done that that day, despite her protests, their lives wouldn’t have been so complicated, “where’s Lando?”

“I don’t want Lando,” she hiccuped, their race was in less than five hours, the time they were spending grieving the loss of their loved one diminished the well needed hours to prepare for the race, but they didn’t care. And their managers didn’t dare seperate them.

“ma fraise,” he repeated, stroking her hair and placing soft kisses atop her head, “how can I calm you?”

“Be with me,” she replied, and he did what he was told.

They sat like that for an hour until she calmed down, until the tears lessened and her breathing went back to normal. Charles had pulled out an inhaler, always having one in case of an emergency, despite his wishes of not wanting to interact. He only wanted to not see or speak to her outside of work because it would be too hard to see her, he couldn’t look at her without falling deeper into love.

She sniffled once more before pulling away from him, whispering out, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he shook his head, his hand still running through her hair, “I understand, ma fraise, I know what you feel. Every June 20th, I feel this way.”

“I’m sorry Charles,” she repeated, “I truly am sorry I wasn’t there for his passing.”

“You were at the funeral, no?” He grinned sadly, “you were there, just not for me, the same way I was not there for you.”

“We should have been there for each other,” she confessed, leaning her head on his shoulder, “we should have been together this entire time.”

His heart clenched, he wished she meant together in the way he wanted, and she had meant it that way, he was just too consumed with idea that her and Lando were more than what they truly were.

“I-“ before he could even get more than one world out, a confession on the tip of his tongue, their engineers burst through the doors, their empathy not running as deep as their managers, for there was still a race to prepare for.

They were ushered out of the drivers room, forced to listen to the strategies of the day before doing their drivers introduction to the crowd. They all stood before the Italian flag, listening to the Italian anthem, Charles even mumbling the parts he knew. She on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring ahead, wishing to see her brothers face within the crowd. There had been a few times she had thought she had actually seen him, when someone would turn their head to the side and the resemblance became uncanny, til they faced towards her again. She knew the anthem by heart, her family having Italian roots, and her grandfather used to sing it to her when she was younger, but that was not what she could think about.

Her grandfather had been in the crowd that day, watching from the Ferrari hospitality as his youngest grandchild raced for the team their whole family loved. Mauro Bianchi had been a race car driver himself, and though he loved the sport dearly, nothing could stop his nerves when watching another one of his grandchildren get into the most dangerous seat in the world.

In the qualifying, she had done better than what she usually did, instead of being at the back half of the grid, she was sitting at P7. Charles had been in P3, his best seating the whole season. 

Her mind was filled with grief as the light went green, and her driving became reckless. Her manager had been right, she shouldn’t have been out there racing. She was taking turns far too quick, barely leaving enough room as she overtook the other drivers, and had even almost lost control of the car on one occasion. But it seemed that recklessness worked in her favour as she quickly came in line with Charles, her strategist had been screaming at her to not overtake him, to stay in P4, until Charles seemed to slow down a fraction, letting her overtake him. 

She had flew past him, catching up to Lewis in P2 quickly. Her strategist, despite the resistance towards her overtaking her teammate, had began to encourage her to get a higher placement. On the fortieth lap, she had over taken Lewis, their cars far too close, with only an inch gap as she overtook him from the inside of the bend. Charles had been hot on her tail, not to win, but to watch over her from behind. Her recklessness had caused him to do the same. Soon enough, the two Ferrari’s were side by side, closing in on Max with a speed that nobody assumed they could get to, especially after their failures the last few races. Max had thought he was going insane, seeing both cars in each of his rear view mirrors, until number 17 had flown past him as well. 

The checkered flag had signalled the end of her race, Y/N Bianchi dominating by almost a five second difference between her and Max. She had stayed in her vehicle for almost a minute, staring up at the sky in disbelief. She had been reckless, and she knew it, she thought that maybe it would have ended up with her in another crash, happily seeing her brother again, not with a win. 

She had ripped off her helmet, the world beginning to suffocate her as she came crashing down to reality. Her balaclava was next, both items left to fall onto the track. She pointed to her heart, and then to the sky, before the tears crashed from her eyes, falling like tsunami waves down her cheeks.

“This one was for Jules Bianchi,” the announcer exclaimed as all the cameras zeroed in on her, many people believed she had never looked more beautiful, crying underneath the Italian sun.

Charles had ran directly for her, catching her as her knees buckled and her sobs took over her body. He soothed her softly, as the other drivers began to crowd around them, shielding her sobbing form from the rest of the world. Lando had looked just as upset as he wrapped one arm around Carlos and the other around Pierre, he knew he should have realised her feelings sooner, but he couldn’t help but feel content with Charles being the one to finally comfort her from the pain she had been harbouring.

But there's a side to you

That I never knew, never knew

Media days had always been her favourite, they were always fun. It had been a while since Ferrari had gotten their drivers together in order to promote the team in some childish way, refraining for month with worries that their unspoken hatred would create a rift in the media, but after their soft interaction in Italy that had captured the hearts of many, their worries flew into the wind.

Lissie Mackintosh, a formula one presenter and social media content creator, had been invited into the Ferrari motorhome as a sort of failsafe option. Just in case the pair suddenly decided they hated each other again, Ferrari knew that the love the world had for Lissie would calm any storm the French and Monagasque driver may conjure.

“Here we go,” Lissie smiled into the camera, holding onto the cards with one hand and a microphone in the other. “I’m here today with Ferrari’s very own Charles Leclerc and Y/N Bianchi.”

“Hello,” Charles spoke back, a grin on his face as he sat to the left of Lissie, holding onto a whiteboard and a red marker. Y/N had simply waved to the camera from the right of Lissie, her left hand holding both a black marker and a whiteboard. 

“We’re going to play a game,” her English accent rang through their ears, Y/N had thought it was endearing, giving the older girl a sense of innocence about her. It was an accent she only ever heard from Lando, a stark contrast against the one she was raised around. “We’re going to see who knows their teammate better, and since you both grew up together, I feel like this is going to be a close call.”

The drivers both nodded their heads, eyes trained upon the girl between them. They didn’t dare to look at each other, because even though there was a newfound civility between them, their tension was still obvious.

“My first question, an easy one, what year was the other driver born?”

Their answers were quick, scribbled onto the boards and spun around with confidence.

1997 was displayed on Y/N’s board, and though she hadn’t been there the day he was born, he never let her forget how much older he was, especially as she began to enter her teen years.

2002 was written on Charles’ board, and the year made his stomach drop, reminding him of just how much younger she was to him. He was there the day she was born, five years old cradling her newborn hand, the memory engraved into his mind.

“A five year difference,” Lissie spoke, unintentionally causing the drivers to tense up at the fact. Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad, Sebastian and Charles had ten years between them, and nobody ever batted an eyelid, the only difference was they weren’t in love with each other. “My next question is; what’s the biggest scar on your teammates body.”

Back of leg, Charles had revealed.

Back of shoulder, she had answered.

“Can I get the stories behind these?” Lissie grinned, she had gotten the drivers to write down their answers prior to the video, so she knew which answers were right and wrong.

“She had got hers when she was eight, running in the rain from her brother until she slipped and fell on rocks,” Charles spoke, their eyes finally catching one another as the memory fought it’s way to the front of their minds.

“I was ten, we were racing to see who could get to the lookout first when he got caught on a branch, ripped his shirt and he thought he was going to get tetanus,” Y/N had giggled at the memory, reminiscing on the look of fear on Charles face that day.

“I don’t think you can get tetanus from a tree branch, Charles,” Lissie teased the older driver, watching as the man playfully rolled his eyes and threw himself back on the couch.

“I was fifteen!” He defended himself, “we had just learnt about it in school.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed at him, “my next question is; who is the other’s dream teammate?”

Michael Schumacher, Y/N had written on her whiteboard neatly. She would never forget his constant hyper fixation on the driver when they were younger.

Lando Norris, Charles had written bitterly, but the man had a good poker face and didn’t show his discontentment on camera.

“Oh, Charles you are wrong,” Lissie shook her head, looking down at the answers on her card quickly to make sure. “Y/N put you as her dream teammate.” His eyes widened at the statement, gaze searching to connect with hers as she avoided looking at him. “That brings the score to 3-2, Bianchi’s way.”

“My next question is,” Lissie continued, working with the limited time she was allocated and the millions of questions she had to ask, “another easy one for childhood friends, what’s their favourite colour?”

Red, she had answered quickly, the sound of the ding for a correct answer bringing a smug smile to her face. 

Red and Brown, he had scribbled onto the whiteboard, gaining a point as it was correct.

“Can I ask why two colours, Y/N?” Lissie questioned, she had never met Jules but from the pictures she had seen online, it wasn’t hard to tell that they were siblings. 

“Red for Ferrari,” she winked at the camera.

“And brown for Jules,” Charles finished off, “it was the colour of his eyes.”

“That’s lovely,” Lissie cooed, and Y/N actually felt relieved, for once the topic of Jules not making the whole room go tense, but instead bringing brighter life into the room. Y/N was grateful for Lissie in that moment. “My next question is, where is their dream destination?”

Australia, Charles had written, though not correctly.

Italy, Y/N had revealed, but was received with the sound of an incorrect answer.

“Unfortunately, Charles put Greece, bringing the score back to an even tally of 4-4,” Lissie shook her head, “my final question is; what is one thing they can’t live without?”

Phone, Y/N had written down.

Laptop, Charles had chosen

Both of them recieved a wrong answer noise.

“Charles had actually put a red t shirt with a strawberry on it that says you are strawesome on the back,” Lissie revealed, “and Y/N you had put two items down, a birthday card and a photo of you, Charles, and Jules.”

Turning to the camera while the pair looked at each other with matching shocked expression, Lissie ended the video, “well that’s all we have for today. Thank you so much to Ferrari and their amazing drivers, Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc, for having me today.”

As soon as the sound of the camera turning off echoed through the room, the three made a move from the couch. Charles had hugged Lissie goodbye, while Y/N had kissed both cheeks before sending her off with a wave.

“You still have that picture?” He questioned her softly, his fingers grazing her elbow as they stood close together, inches away from one of the windows. 

“Of course I do,” she nodded her head, “it’s a core memory, the strawberry shirt on the other hand, keeping that doesn’t make much sense.”

“You always used to wear it,” he said as if that answered her questions, “it just reminds me of simpler times.” She nodded her head, gaze turning to look out the window and see the track they would be racing in a few days from then. “Can I ask another question?”

“Sure,” she nodded, eyes trained on the many people that walked through the paddock, showing off their passes and taking photos of themselves on the track. 

“Why a birthday card?” 

“It was the last card Jules ever gave me,” she answered him quickly, “technically maman and papa gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday, but before he died he had planned out my gift for my thirteenth birthday. He got me a custom gold bracelet with a strawberry and my name on it, and he had written me a birthday card. Maman and papa didn’t get it until after he died, when the jeweller contacted them, but they kept it until my eighteenth birthday.”

“The bracelet you’ve been wearing for the past four years?” Charles questioned, eyes trailing down to the golden chain wrapped around her wrist, the strawberry charm catching a ray of the sunlight, “I helped him pick that out.”

“You what?” She questioned him this time, looking down at the bracelet, not realising that it had much more meaning than she believed.

“He had called me, told me what he was getting you, and I told him to add the strawberry,” Charles revealed, “I thought it was lost in the world, and that it was just a coincidence that you had a similar one, but it is very special that it is that same bracelet.”

“You didn’t even like me back then,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, noticing as a fan began waving excitedly up at them, as well as another taking either a video or a photo beside them. She had waved politely and smiled, all while Charles continued to stare at her.

“I‘ve never not liked you, ma fraise,” He whispered to her.

All the things you'd say

They were never true, never true

The warm summer rain clashed against her warm skin, giving a moment for her soul to connect to the deep joy a sense of the sacred bequeaths. Puddles grew as if the land of Narnia had sent them to fetch them, their track’s surface danced with each perfect individual sky-gift. It was as if that summer rain came to remind them of the natural reign that stayed within each soul, souls born of heaven, born of mother Earth, each needing her support and nurture. 

The rain hadn’t dettered anyone from attending the Spanish Grand Prix, Ferrari caps shielding the crowds faces and ponchos covering the rest of them. Those who weren’t in the grandstands huddled under umbrellas, their bodies confused as the earth was hot but the rain that belted down was freezing. 

The drivers weren’t protected from the rain, except for their rain tires, there was nothing keeping their suits and helmets from getting soaked. The water droplets stained her visor, making some parts of the track enlarged and others normal as the droplets distorted her vision. She had tried wiping it off with the back of her hand, only for it to break into tiny puddles along the plexiglass. 

She sat patiently in P3, her qualifying race exceeding expectations that weekend. After her win in Italy, Ferrari had made sure to stay on the podium, letting their strategists words fly in one ear and out the other, for it wasn’t them leading the pair to victory, but their own senses. During every briefing they would get served, but the results didn’t lie, the drivers knew what was best. 

Charles sat in P1, having barely scraped past Max to get into pole position, and while Max had been upset with the result, his engine roared in P2, ready to redeem himself in the race. When the lights flashed green, they were off.

Her rain tires gripped the road as she gained a six second gap between her and the rest of the paddock, Max in front of her by a two second gap, and Charles leading with a three second gap. The front three were dominating the grid, sliding through the rain and using it to their advantage as they took each turn. 

By the fifty sixth lap, that trio had gained a large gap from the rest, the true battle only being between them. She would overtake Max with every bend, and when it came to straight part, he would pass her. Charles had secured his position of P1 back on the forty eights lap, gaining at least six seconds ahead of the battling Ferrari and Red Bull. 

As the rain became generous upon the blacktop track, strategists began to remind the drivers of hydroplaning and the need for safe driving, Ferrari suggesting that both their drivers stop into the pit to change their tires. But they could feel the car, could feel the tires beneath them as if they’d become apart of their bodies, they didn’t need to stop into the pit, not yet, not when a win was in clear view. So they didn’t, and neither did Max. 

“You’ll burst your tires,” her strategist exclaimed as she flew past the pit stop, Max only a millisecond behind her until he over took her on the long strip.

“The tires are fine,” she hissed through the radio, after the first few races of following every command of the strategists and always landing a P10 and below, she had found their calls to be unnecessary.

At the last lap, Charles had flown through, winning the Spanish Grand Prix, but many eyes were on the Red Bull and Ferrari number 17, their constant overtaking of each other making the P2 spot unclear for everyone. In the end, Max had taken the spot by a tiny fraction, and if they eye wasn’t trained, it would have looked like they passed the finish line neck and neck. 

“Charles Leclerc wins the Spanish Grand Prix!” The presenter announced as the three made their way onto the podium, Max standing stiffly at P2 as he stared into his fathers eyes, who had graciously attended the race. Charles and Y/N celebrated with the spraying of champagne, snapping Max out of his haze of disappointment, causing him to join in the celebrations.

The post race interview had flown by quickly, all three answered their questions with adrenaline still pumping through their veins. They were high off the podium placements, the Ferrari drivers proving yet again that the strategists needed to listen more to their drivers than to reusing outdated methods.

The pair had both skipped the debrief with their team, opting to not lose their happiness from the podium wins just to listen to their complaints about them not listening. Instead, Y/N was hidden away in her drivers room, reading through a contract with a brand that had wanted to sponsor her on her laptop. She hadn’t expected her popularity to give her such opportunities like working with high designer brands, but she was more than thankful. Charles on the other hand was pacing out the front of her drivers room, phone in hand staring down at a contact, wondering whether he should finally confess everything to her. He was in conflict, he knew that he wanted to go in there and share her feelings with her, but he also knew that he should be calling that number and talking to them instead.

When his hand twisted the knob of the drivers room door, he knew his decision had been made. He had caught her off guard, pretty eyes scanning over a document on her laptop before looking up to catch him in the doorway. She had seen him, there was no turning back now.

“Charles?” She questioned, they were friends to say the least, they weren’t best friends and they weren’t enemies anymore, they were in that awkward middle ground. She had experienced that middle ground with many people, but never had expected it to be the relationship she had with Charles.

“I need to explain,” he spoke, shuffling inside and closing the door behind him.

Her pretty eyes turned sad as he spoke those words, “no Charles, I can’t right now.”

“Yes you can,” he pressed, taking a seat beside her, giving her no choice but to listen to him. He had no right, especially since Lando had taken his place, but he needed to get it off his chest after Pierre and Max had yelled at him for speaking too much about her and not telling them about their kiss in Abu Dhabi.

“Charles,” she sighed, but she closed her laptop, giving him her full attention.

“You know why I left, you know it was because I thought what was best for you,” he began, wiping his palms against his red shorts, “I’ve realised that, no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re with, I will always love you.”

She took in a breath at his words, gaze softening as he continued, “I never feel like I’m wasting time with you. We could sit for hours in silence and it would still feel so full, and good.”

“Sometimes I fall asleep holding a pillow, pretending that it’s you,” he confessed, though his gaze never left his hands, not being able to look at her as he spoke his truth, “I still remember you as a little girl who used to overwater plants because you didn’t know how to stop giving. I don’t want to be your friend.”

Her heart stopped, oh, right, of course. Because why would you after all I’ve done. She thought.

“I want to be more,” he finally breathed out, “my heart isn’t with me because I gave it to you, but I can still feel it ache. I don’t deserve you, and I’m trying to find every piece of you that I broke, that got lost when you tried to be good enough for me, even though you’ve always been more than enough.”

“Please,” she begged, her waterline forming tears in her eyes as she registered his words. She had always wanted to hear them fall from his lips, but she couldn’t help but feel bittersweet, like he didn’t truly mean them at all, how could he mean them? When she had pushed him away a million times, and he had stayed away.

“When I was younger, picturing my perfect life, I always imagined spending it with you,” he spoke again, “living together. Making tea together. Having garden parties like our parents together. I thought we’d own a little cafe in Monaco and live in a house with too many books. And we’d pile our blankets and pillows in the living room, and we’d sleep there just to be even closer together. Of course, we were just best friends in my head, but isn’t that what all great lovers are?”

“Don’t do this to me, Charles,” she choked out, beginning for him to look at her, so she could see if he was telling the truth or not, but he refused, all he had to do was look at her with those lovesick eyes and she’d be putty in his hands.

“And still, all I do is talk about you,” he sighed, “I will love you until the world ends, and then even still after that.”

“You can’t do this to me,” she cried, jaw clenching as his gaze was locked on the floor. All she needed was the confirmation from his eyes.

“Do what, ma fraise?” He spoke softly, not being able to stomach looking at her.

“Give me hope, when you won’t even look at me,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her face, “I’ve seen how this story ends, you will give me promises of a better future together, but won’t even say it with your whole chest. I cannot do this again.”

And I threw us into the flames

When it fell, something died

Home, it was finally her home race, for the first time in a couple of years, the French Grand Prix had returned. Amid the chattering trees, amid the mirth of laughing meadows, lived the Circuit Paul Ricard. She hadn’t been on its turf for years, and she was happy to finally be back. Her entire family had been attending, traveling the two hours by car to get there. Ferrari had paid for her family’s accommodations, despite their protests and willingness to drive back home, wanting them to keep their driver happy.

Her, Pierre, and Esteban stood in front of the rest of the drivers, singing the tune of their national anthem softly between them. Charles had even hummed the lyrics, having heard it a million times everytime Jules or Y/N had won a race. 

Returning to France was the hug her soul had been calling for in stoic hope. Being in her home country brought out joy from within her as surely as the new flowers loved the sun. She was excited, getting to spend the night in Marseille before returning home with her family for almost a week and a half, til she had to fly out to the next race. 

Melanie and Tom had cheered her on from the Ferrari garage, adorned in clothing that matched hers French themed suit. And her mother and father were located in the hospitality area, watching the race from behind tinted glass. The Ferrari team had designed a new suit for her that race, and her helmet had been hand picked by her. The helmet once belonged to her brother, an artifact left in a glass case for all to see in a museum, until she took it back. She hadn’t been the only one excited for the French Grand Prix to return.

Her mother cried when she saw her youngest daughter in the helmet that belonged to Jules, and as she sat in the Ferrari car, visor up and ready to race, the world imagined it was him for a moment. 

She had made it to P3, sitting comfortably behind the Red Bull car, ready to race like her life depended on it. Charles sat in P2, his head turning every so often towards her, catching a glimpse of the helmet everytime. Daniel had almost choked on his water when he saw her, believing his eyes were playing tricks on him, that he had seen a ghost. 

The race began, both Ferrari’s neck and neck as they gained on Max. It was almost comical how each race after the Italian Grand Prix, it had always been a battle between the three. Always them ahead of everyone else, but that race was different, as Lando came up behind them quickly in his McLaren. 

On the sixteenth lap, Charles had began to have difficulties with his steering wheel, the buttons suddenly cutting in and out every so often, until the device stopped working all together. He had safely veered off the track, though his anger and frustrations with the car had doubled as he jumped out and threw the steering wheel against the hood of the vehicle. 

All had been going well as Max continued onwards in first place, Y/N right on his tail in second, and Lando only a few seconds behind her in third. Until Max’s tires began to emit smoke across the track. The Dutchman swore and yelled as he pulled into the pit lane, watching with angry eyes as Y/N took first place and Lando finally sat comfortably in second, Daniel at least seven seconds behind in third. The stop was brief as they replaced his tires, Max screeching out of the pit to continue the race.

He had fallen back to fourth, until the fiftieth lap, when he overtook his teammate, but the gap between first and second was too far ahead for him to catch up. On their last lap the checkered flag waved, Y/N had won her home race, won it in her brother's helmet and adorned in her nation's flag.

As the race ceased, and all the other cars tumbled to a stop, Melanie and Tom raced from the garage, engulfing their little sister in a hug of celebration. There was an energy to the hug, as if the adrenaline of her race powered up her older siblings. Their hug was stronger than anything she had ever known, as if holding her wasn't quite enough, they had to feel every ounce that she was pressed into every ounce that was them, that they needed to make sure she was real.

“She won in Monza, she wins in France, Y/N Bianchi!” The crowd cheered like their lives depended on it, French and Ferrari flags waving erratically through the air.

When she got up on the podium, she thrusted the trophy in the air, the feeling of the win overtaking her body. Lando had curled his body around hers, gripping her tightly. In the heat of his embrace there were welding sparks. The cameras flashed quickly, zooming in on their friendly interaction with the intent to make it seem like something more. Their smiles went viral around the arena, and how could it not? They celebrated each other like they were the only two there. 

Her smile was the prettiest thing Charles had seen in a while, for it extended to her eyes and deep into her soul. She was the gentle touch, the honesty that was a purity, her childhood innocence so vibrant and free. He just wished it was aimed at him, and maybe if he had been on that podium with her it would have been directed at him.

“Charles, you okay man?” Pierre questioned his best friend from the sidelines, instantly noticing his scrunched brows and the pout on his lips. 

“Non, no” he confessed, “Je veux qu'elle me regarde quand elle sourit, mais elle ne peut pas détourner son regard de lui et de sa stupide McLaren. I want her to look at me when she smiles, but she can’t look away from him and his stupid McLaren.”

Sometimes I wake up by the door

That heart you caught must be waiting for you

It was the perfect birthday in every sense, and in all the ways only the universe can give, if only he had been there to celebrate it. It was a summers day in Nice that August, the first day blossom opened on the tree. 

They had a break between races, granted with a month full of their own activities. Many chose to spend it relaxing their minds, steering clear of stress and finding solace in their time off. She had spent the first week in isolation, taking time off from the entire world as she tried to enjoy her own company, she didn’t. The second week she hadn’t spent a day alone, braving the streets of Monaco to spend every waking minute with Lando. And in the third week, she had to spend it with her family, sleeping over for most nights, waking up in his room that was still untouched.

She had spent the entire day with them, Philippe hadn’t left his bedroom and Christine was content with sitting on the back patio, flipping through childhood photos. She could never imagine their pain, of losing a son before his time, it wasn’t right. Parents weren’t supposed to bury their children, it was supposed to be the other way around, when the children would band together to bury the ones that gave them life, that was the way of the world.

Melanie and Tom had sat together in the kitchen, talking about their favourite memories of him, Y/N only wished she had as much time with Jules as they had. She wished she had been born before him, so she could have witnessed his entire life.

As the stars filled the sky like pale corn into freshly turned ground, she bid her family a goodbye. It was the promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold had taken her to the cemetery. It was a vastness to bring humbleness and an eternal space to bring gratitude for the coziness of home. No matter the years that passed, Y/N saw each night sky as a fresh gift given anew just like Jules had when he was alive. It was the moment anyone that knew her would see her eyes smile and her breathing deepen just a little.

She crouched next to his grave, forehead resting against the cool stone as she placed the strawberry and cream cupcake in front of it. She had let out a snort at the memory, the happiness that was attached to the flavour. 

“Ma fraise,” his voice called to her, and for a moment she believed it was him, until Charles came into her peripheral vision. He was holding a bouquet of roses, placing them alongside her cupcake, “I remember making those for you every birthday with him. We’d be in that kitchen for hours, he’d burn the cake at least twice before he got it perfect.”

She breathed out a laugh, a fondness growing in her heat as she sat cross legged in front of his stone. They sat together for hours, just talking like they used to. He had brought up millions of memories of them as children, from their karting days, from the days of them hiking up the side of Monaco to get the best view, til their very last day as children together.

“You better get going,” Charles finally said, though their was dissapointment in his veins, “the trip back to Nice is going to get busy soon, and I don’t want you driving tired.”

“I’m staying in Monaco tonight,” she replied back.

“With Lando?” He tried to be supportive, but the words tasted sour as they rolled off of his tongue.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

She was about to tell him the truth, about how they were just friends and that her heart belonged to him, but he cut her off quickly, “well you don’t want to keep him waiting up all night, you better get going.”

With a sigh, she nodded her head, another moment ruined by miscommunication. She wanted to scream at him, from the top of her lungs, that Lando wasn’t anything more than a friend, to get him to realise that it was him she only had eyes for, nobody else.

The journey to Lando’s apartment was silent, no music playing within her car as she drove the familiar route. Charles didn’t live that much further from him, only an extra two minutes on the road and she’d be at his apartments front door step. 

He had buzzed her in within a second of her arrival, engulfing the girl into a tight hug as soon as she used his spare key to get in. She had expected him to be asleep, so close to midnight, but she knew that would’ve never been true. Lando was always a night owl.

The British man followed her into the spare bedroom, hanging off of every word she spoke about her brief interaction with Charles. His heart soared when she recounted the memories they had discussed, grinning like a mad man when she would add in funny details. 

“Go to sleep, ma moitié,” he spoke softly, patting her head as she dropped into soft mattress, “if you need me I’ll be in my streaming room, Max wants me to play Halo.”

She nodded her head, smiling softly at him as she hugged the closest pillow. She had always felt a serenity upon sleeping, she loved to dream. She loved the moments between wakefulness and sleep, the feeling of her brain shifting gears was so sweet. She would start to see her brain playing it’s movies, always telling her things in visual puns and metaphors. And though she began to love her waking days as well, sleep was a kind of heaven for her. Her only problem that night, was that she couldn’t sleep.

She had tried, desperately. 

But as she tossed and turned underneath the duvet, her mind was clouded with too many thoughts, too many emotions for it to shut off. It was been way into the early morning when she had finally decided to bite the bullet. She tapped incessantly at her phone til she found his number, her thumb hovering over it for almost five minutes before she found the courage to press it. 

Holding it to her ear, she heard it ring, assuming that he wouldn’t answer, as he was so adamant that she go to bed, she could only believe he had been tired too. 

But it answered, after the third ring.

“Ma fraise?” His voice was hoarse, she had woken him up, “why are you calling?”

He had thought something was wrong, that she was in trouble as she hadn’t called him in forever, the pair only choosing to interact in person. He was surprised she still even had his number, believing she must have blocked it after so many of his text messages went unread. 

“I need to tell you something, Charles,” she rushed out, needing to get it off her chest before she lost the confidence all together.

“It’s two am, can we talk later in the morning?” He protested, and she had heard rustling through the phone.

“I love you Charles,” she blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”

They could hook Charles up to a polygraph and ask him if he loved her back, in that moment he would have said no, and the needle would have jumped and sputtered exactly how she laughed. His breath was caught in his throat at her declaration, those words he had only dreamt of falling from her lips.

“Bébé, why are you up?” She heard a woman’s voice echo through the phone, causing a gasp to slip from her lips. He was with someone, not just in the sense of that moment, but in a relationship with someone.

“Y/N,” He began in a panic, but she had already hung up on him.

The tears that slipped from her eyes were uncontrollable, the girl getting up from her bed and shuffling out of the room. She followed the groans of frustration coming from the streaming room, knocking twice before entering.

Lando sat at his desk, eyes focused on the screen before him, “everything all good?”

She had answered with a sniffle, and his entire attention turned towards her. She could hear the loud protests of Max through the headphones as Lando let himself die in the game, pulling her weeping body into his.

“What’s happened?” He questioned with worry, stroking the top of her head as she buried it into his neck.

“I told him I loved him,” she hiccuped, “but he was with another girl.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he cooed, ending the game without an explanation to place his full attention on his upset best friend.

But I set fire to the rain

Watched it pour as I touched your face

Abu Dhabi had been the final race of the season for many years, and it was no different that time. And though rain was sparse and inconsistent in the country, it had began pouring heavily on their race day. It had been bright sunny skies the day of qualifying, she had secured pole position after completing the fastest lap, but as the rain belted down on race day, she could only assume the worst. 

Charles and hers conversations had been kept to a minimum since Jules’ birthday, the tension was less obvious to the crew for once, as they interacted like civil teammate. Even if they did end up together, there was no way for them to act like it in front of the Ferrari team, as it would cost one of them their seat on the team. HR had already sent out a press release late the previous year, explaining that dating within the crew was prohibited unless the couple were to be married, and marriage was definitely not in the pairs sights.

Rain be-speckled gems upon her skin bringing out her beauty into a clearer definition. The rain invited a street of colourful umbrellas to blossom, every colour of the rainbow scattered across the track.

The rain brought a richness to each hue on the track, the browns deepened in a way that soothed her heart, brought a steadiness to her soul. The grass became glossy, reflecting the light, a new bright shine to their wands, softly waving in the breeze. That rain brought a freshness, each drop a heaven-given gift for each part of creation.

As she checked over her car, making sure every part of it was perfectly intact and that they had put on her wet tyres. She had high hopes for that last race, she had won it the last year, and she had planned to win that year as well. She would be sitting pretty in pole position, which gave her a larger advantage then the rest of the drivers, and her team was more than confident she would bring the trophy home again. Due to a few bad races, Ferrari was behind by a hundred points for the Constructors Championship, and there was no way they could make up the rest of the points at that time in the season. Red Bull had been in the lead for both the Constructors and Drivers Championship, and there was no doubt they’d get it no matter the results of that race.

“Y/N,” Charles called out, she had only acknowledged him with a hum, she couldn’t look at him for longer than ten seconds before her heart began to ache again, “we’re wanted for photographs in the hospitality.”

Nodding her head, she pushed her wet hair behind her ears, and turned, though instead of going to walk quietly inside, she spoke, “have you had a girlfriend this entire time?”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this,” he sighed, leaning foreword to grab her arm, but she retreated backwards, further into the rain. He had reluctantly followed her, not particularly wanting to get wet before the race had begun, but she gave him no choice. He sighed, “Yes, I have.”

“You’ve had a girlfriend this entire time!” She scoffed, “while you were telling me you had always been in love with me, she was waiting on you! How could you do this to me? To her?”

“I cannot live without you, Y/N,” he declared, stepping foreword and thanking the heavens above that she didn’t retreat from him again. His hand came to rest on her warm cheek, a stark contrast to the freezing rain. “I busy myself with distractions so I don’t dwell on what’s not mine. And you cannot call me out when you have been doing the exact same, calling me and telling me you’re in love with me when you’re supposed to be in bed with Lando.”

“Lando and I are not together!” She shouted finally, “we haven’t been this entire time, and we never will be. You are being cruel Charles, not only to me, but to your girlfriend as well.”

“You and Lando? You’ve not been dating this entire time?” He whispered, shock written on his face as he finally registered her words. He had heard it from other drivers that they weren’t a couple, just close friends, but he hadn’t believed a single word they had said. But as Y/N shouted it out into the world, he began to realise his mistakes, “time has been cruel to us, ma fraise.”

There was something so heavenly when he pulled her face closer to his and their lips touched in that rain, a tender moment that just couldn’t wait. It was that burst of love that was expressed, not caring if the water soaked through to chill the skin. 

“I love you Charles,” she spoke as she pulled away, one hand pressed to his chest to create distance between then, “but you’re not mine.”

“I was your first love, ma fraise,” he whispered to her, voice almost swept away by the sound of the rain, “and I intend to be your last as well.”

“You cannot say those things when there is another girl waiting for you in hospitality, you cannot kiss me when you are with another woman,” she huffed at him, “I will not stand for you to treat her so cruelly, not when she has probably given up so much to be with you.”

Before he could retaliate, their managers had rushed towards them, scolding them for their time in the rain and trying to make them both look as presentable as possible for the media.

The race had not ended well that day, her mind had been clouded, and she hadn’t been able to shake the kiss and his words from her mind. Max and Daniel had taken P1 and P2, quick to secure their titles for the year, and Lando had successfully managed to get his McLaren in P3. Charles had come fourth, only a millisecond behind Lando, and for a moment, as Charles congratulated him, Lando believed that he had scrapped his podium placement as an apology for the way he had been treating his friend. Y/N had called terribly behind, finishing the race and the season in P9.

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Silly Season (ln4)

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 700,284 others yourusername: Oh Canada, you have my heart

lilymhe: Of course you'd post food over race content 😂

“And here we have former F2 champion and the first Williams' driver to win a race since Pastor Maldonado-” you heard Ted call your name as the camera man shoved his lens in your face. “Have a second to talk?”

“Always for you, Ted,” you put on your sparkliest smile for the camera and leant against the railing outside the hospitality building you had been seconds away from entering.

“You and Alex did well in qualifying, did that send some well needed morale throughout the team?”

“P6 and P10. Not too bad, eh? Of course doing well in quali is always a mood boost.”

“While I have you I have to ask about Lewis' contract negotiations.”

You groaned, “you were doing so well, Ted!” 

This particular topic had followed you since you’d joined the Mercedes Junior team alongside George in 2017. You became their test driver in 2019 with all eyes watching as you became the first female driver to win the F2 championship. George had been promised an eventual Mercedes seat first and you were happy to wait your turn at Williams. 

George hadn’t exactly been thrilled as he watched you accomplish more with the midfield team than he had ever been able to; scoring five podiums and one win since you’d joined the team three seasons ago.

“I know, I know, but the rumour around the paddock is that you’re next in line for the Mercedes seat when Lewis retires.”

“If Lewis retires. And I don’t think he will.” Toto had come to you as soon as they had started contract negotiations. He’d told you flat out that they wanted to keep the former world champion on the team.

“So there’s no plans for you to reunite with your former team mate?”

“Not that I’m aware, no. Alex and I work well together and I’m quite happy with how things are going. We won a race last year, had a few podiums-”

“And the season’s been looking good this year. You’ve gotten points in every race so far.”

“I know! In a Williams!”

“In a Williams!” Suddenly, Ted did what you’d hope he wouldn’t and noticed where you were standing. “I know we’ve been talking about a move to Mercedes, but how about a move to McLaren?”

The cameraman zoomed out to show you leaning against the railing outside McLaren hospitality.

“Would you believe it if I told you they’re the only team that has the name brand Wagon Wheels?”

It didn’t seem like he believed you. “You’ve come all the way to McLaren for biscuits?”

“Not just biscuits, Ted. Wagon Wheels. Plus I need to rub my three hundredths of a second lead in Lando’s face.”

“A true quality of a good sportswoman.” He could sense you were getting fidgety as you kept checking your watch, so like a professional he began to wrap it up. “Lovely talking to you as always, I’ll leave you to your Wagon Wheels.”

“If I see you later I’ll sneak you one,” you grinned as you finally slipped away to enter the building.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“What took you so long? I saw you outside ten minutes ago.” He’d tossed his phone on the couch beside him as soon as you’d stepped foot into his room, shrugging off your spray jacket. He held his arms out wide, a silent signal for you to move into his reach, which you happily did as his hands found rest on your waist.

“Got caught talking to Ted about my move to Mercedes,” your words were mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit and marshmallow. You hadn’t been lying about the Wagon Wheels. 

He pulled you forward until your knees hit the couch, forcing you onto his lap. “When did that happen?” 

Licking chocolate off your lips you smirked, “It didn’t. Hi baby,” you slung your arms over his shoulders and his cold hands slipped beneath your tee-shirt.

“I missed you today.”

“You saw me in the pit lane an hour ago.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. I missed this,” he squeezed the flesh on your hips, his lips catching the underside of your jaw when you moved your head back. “You coming to my room tonight?”

“I dunno,” you fiddled with the drawstrings on his hoodie, twisting them around you finger. “Got a big race to prepare for tomorrow. Gotta keep my lead.”

You knew you should sleep alone before the race and get the full eight hours your coach was always talking about, but this man had his fingers wrapped around your heart and you knew it wouldn’t take much of his pleading or puppy dog eyes to end up in the same bed.

“Baby,” his little whine was always the same when he wasn’t getting his way, and you hated to admit it was adorable. And hard to turn down.

“We’re not having sex.”

He nodded, “just cuddling. I’ll even come to your room.”

“You say that but we’ll get in bed and you’ll try something,” you knew from experience. It’d happened before and all the thoughts about sleep and rest went out of your head the second he had his head between your thighs.

“I won’t, I swear. I’ll shower before I come over, I still have those pictures-”

“Lando,” you didn’t need to be reminded of the photos hidden away behind a passcode on Snapchat.

“Pretty please? I won’t even say anything if you want to watch that show you like.”

“You wanna watch Never Have I Ever?”

“No,” he drew out the syllable and you could feel him fidget beneath you. “But I’ll sit next to you and play on my phone while you watch it.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you,” it came out sarcastically but he just grinned, pressing his lips against your own.

“Do you think we have time for a-”

“Do not even think of finishing that question," you glared at him as he had the audacity to pout, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as his fingers crept up to tug on the hook of your bra. "You have ten minutes."

part 2 | read more of my writing here.

Made to order for a sweet anon for my perfume collection xx

ﾟ｡ ⋆ mags' radio: Pls join me in my fantasy of williams being a midfield team. I really love the idea of George being jealous that reader has been able to achieve more in a Williams than he ever was. Anyway, I said that I had a bigger backstory for driver!reader and lando, so if you like this let me know and I might write the beginning of there relationship/ them revealing it to the grid. Going to do a part 2/soft launch insta series for them next! ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

taglist: @fulla02reads @lazybot @flowerchild-96 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @azxulaa @hrlzy @ghosttwit @inejghafawife @booksobsess @formulakay @1655-1485 @chonkybonky @peachiicherries @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @lilacsimps @diaa-20 @love4lando @imsorare @lunnnix @ctrlyomomma

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🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

noticed.

f1 au: in which, y/n is a huge fan of formula one and wish she could attend a race to support her favorite driver which happen to be lando norris.

lando norris x reader.

fc: bruna marquezine.

liked by y/n, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 1 007 788 others.

landonorris: P3 BABY!

_

maxfewtrell: let’s go!

y/n: my prayers worked omg

fan1: @.y/n girl i follow you on twitter you’re so funny

fan2: @.y/n you’re his lucky charm actually

fan3: @.y/n petition for lando to notice you and invite you to barcelona

y/n: omg am i famous?

you threw your phone and let out a scream, which woke up your dog, norris. yes you named your dog after lando, they looked alike so it fitted. you slapped your hand on your mouth, completely in shock.

"shut the fuck up!" you yelled while jumping on your bed and screaming. reality finally hit you, lando fucking norris noticed you and wanted to send you tickets to go to the spain gp. you plopped back onto your bed and grabbed your phone. you immediately went to twitter and saw that lando had dmed you. you felt shivers all over your body.

landonorris: hi y/n! i saw your tweet and wanted to thank you first for the support, i really want to send you tickets to come see the gp in barcelona so please send me your infos asap :) take care! your husband ;)

your eyes widened while another scream left your mouth. at this rate your neighbours will call the police on you but you didn’t care at all. lando norris just dmed you AND called himself your husband.

imnotyn: hi!! omg this feels like a fever dream, i hope you didn’t dig too deep into my account or else i’ll kms rn BUT thank you for the invite this means the world to me xx

landonorris: no problem! oh and i saw all your tweets.

you dropped your phone once again. no way you were going to this gp and meet lando after he told you that he, in fact, read all your tweets which meant that he read the ones where you were being a disappointment for your parents.

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes and 2 867 others.

y/n: my dream came true and i still can’t believe it. it was such an honour to come and see a formula one race with my own eyes and not behind a screen. thank you so much @.landonorris for this incredible opportunity and congrats on p3 again!

_

lilymhe: you were such a sweetheart! we should definitely hang out soon!

y/n: @.lilymhe OMG YES

maxfewtrell: gossiping with you was fun, hope to see you soon!

y/n: @.maxfewtrell you made the whole experience better, thank you max!

landonorris: my lucky charm right?

liked by y/n.

fan1: girlie went from being a fangirl to getting noticed by lando, getting invited to the gp AND befriended the wags + max

fan2: she’s living my dream rn

fan3: not lando flirting with her??

fan4: OMG Y/N YOU MADE IT

fan5: don’t forget us once you marry him

liked by y/n.

liked by y/n, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 2 689 008 others.

landonorris: my lucky charm indeed.

_

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