Game on. | c.l & p.g x reader

Chapter one: Start Line

When the season ended, Y/n left with Jacques. Her appearances at races stopped entirely. There were a few texts now and then, but even those faded out. She was gone from their world, tucked away in the past like some unresolved subplot. Charles and Pierre moved on. The rivalry cooled. Their friendship found its rhythm again. It stayed that way for over a decade.

By now, Charles could barely remember what had even started the fight. All he knew was that he and Pierre were closer than ever, Laughing in corners during drivers' meetings, slipping jokes into press conferences, living in and out of each other's driver rooms. The whole thing with
Y/n felt like a weird teenage fever dream. Ancient history.

Until Jacques raised his hand at the end of a race meeting.

"Yeah, is there any way we can get more family passes?" he asked the FIA rep.

"You need more than the allocated ten?" the woman asked, looking at him like he'd asked for a unicorn.

"Yeah, France is my two-hundredth race," Jacques replied with a casual shrug. "My mom invited basically our entire extended family. I'll probably need twenty, if possible."

The room chuckled. Jacques always got what he wanted. Reigning world champion. The first driver to win every single race in a season. On track to do it again this year. He didn't ask for much, but when he did, no one told him no.

"Talk to your team," the rep sighed, already defeated.

Jacques grinned, brushing a hand through his hair. "Cool."

"How do you even have that many family members who want to come see you race?" Lando asked, grinning.

Jacques didn't sit with the other French speakers. Never had, really. He'd found his people early on among the Brits and never looked back. Most of his downtime was spent with Lando, George and Alex. If Charles and Pierre said anything to him outside of the cooldown room or press conferences , it was a rarity.

"I don't even know, man. I'm French," Jacques replied.

"But your family section is always empty?" Alex chimed in, confused.

"My mum probably invited the neighbours. Half my family can't stand to watch me race," he joked.

Charles and Pierre exchanged a look.

Would Y/n come?

It was a question that neither of them voiced but both of them were clearly thinking. The last time they'd seen her was after Jacques' awful crash in his final season karting with them. She'd been white as a sheet, visibly shaken. She'd never come to another race again. Not once.

They weren't interested anymore, obviously. But both would be lying if they said they hadn't thought about her over the years. Wondered who she'd grown into. Where she was. Whether she still had that same spark.

Turned out, she was in the passenger seat of Jacques' McLaren the following week, pulling into the paddock.

"I still don't know why Mama's making me come. You know I'm proud of you. I don't have to be here to prove it," she grumbled.

"I haven't crashed this season, and last year was clean. It's been over ten years y/n," Jacques said calmly.

"I know. Still." She fiddled with her hair in the side mirror. "Do I look okay?"

Jacques gave her a look. "You look fine."

She got out of the car and adjusted her shirt, tugging it smooth. Classic paddock outfit: straight-legged jeans, a white waistcoat-style top, white heels, and a designer bag Jacques had bought her for her birthday. Her McLaren cap sat neatly on her head. It was her first time in the paddock, and it showed but in a good way.