Welcome back! Please take care of yourself
For a request: Could you write a story where one of the drivers suprises the reader on her graduation day? Usually it doesn't fit in his schedule but he moved everything around to make it happen. He also arranged a dinner etc to spoil reader for her accomplishments
The coordinates of us
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (y/n)
Warnings: none, pure fluff, surprise appearance
Summary: Believing Charles is stuck in Maranello for simulator work, you attend your graduation alone. But Charles pulls off a massive surprise to celebrate your big day together.
Requested: Yes/ Anon
Word count: 4606
Author's note: I hope this sweet, romantic Charles makes your heart melt as much as he did mine! enjoy xx
Masterlist
The sun of a warm July morning filtered through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting soft, golden patches across the wooden floor. There was not a single cloud in the sky, a rare and welcome blessing for a London summer, and certainly a relief for your graduation day. You lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the reality of the day wash over you. Years of endless studying, late nights fueled by cold coffee, and the constant balancing act of maintaining a relationship with a Formula One driver had finally led to this moment. You were graduating.
Reaching for your phone on the nightstand, you unlocked the screen, half hoping for a miracle. The lock screen showed a few congratulatory notifications from friends, but the message you cared about most was at the very top. It was from Charles.
“Good morning, mon amour. I wish I could be there to wake you up today of all days. I am so incredibly proud of you. I am heading into the simulator now for the pre-Hungary prep, but I will be thinking of you every second. Call me as soon as you get your diploma. I love you.”
You read the words twice, a small, bittersweet smile forming on your lips. You had known for weeks that he could not make it. The Ferrari schedule was famously brutal, and with the summer shutdown approaching, every single hour of simulator work and engineering debriefs was packed into the weekdays leading up to the race weekend. He had tried to see if there was any way to postpone his sessions, but the team had been firm. With the championship battle heating up, every millisecond on track mattered, and that meant his preparation in Maranello was non-negotiable.
You typed out a quick reply, telling him you loved him, that you understood, and that you would call him the very moment you were holding that expensive piece of paper. Setting the phone down, you let out a long breath. You truly did understand, you had supported him through the highs and lows of his career, and you knew the sacrifices that came with loving someone who lived at three hundred kilometers an hour. Still, a quiet, stubborn part of you wished he could be sitting in the crowded hall, watching you walk across the stage.
You threw off the covers and stood up, determined not to let the slight ache in your chest ruin what was supposed to be one of the best days of your life. Today was about your hard work, your sleepless nights, and your achievement.
The morning quickly turned into a flurry of activity. You showered, did your hair and makeup with meticulous care, and slipped into the elegant dress you had bought weeks ago with Charles on FaceTime, remembering how he had smiled through the screen and insisted that you had to buy it. Over the dress, you draped the heavy, dark graduation gown, smoothing out the folds before pinning the colorful hood of your faculty over your shoulders. Finally, you placed the mortarboard cap on your head, adjusting it until it sat perfectly.
Looking at your reflection in the full-length mirror, you felt a sudden rush of emotion. You looked like a graduate. You only wished he could see you in person, rather than through a pixelated phone screen.
The journey to the graduation venue was a blur of traffic and nervous excitement. The university had rented out a magnificent, historic hall in the heart of London, its grand stone pillars and towering arched windows bathed in the bright morning sunlight. The surrounding streets were alive with the chatter of excited students, all dressed in matching black gowns, their families hovering around them with cameras and bouquets of flowers.
You met up with a few of your classmates outside, sharing quick, nervous hugs and admiring how everyone looked.
“Can you believe we are actually done,” one of your friends asked, adjusting her cap. “It feels like just yesterday we were crying over our final exams.”
“It does,” you agreed, looking around the bustling plaza. “It feels completely surreal.”
“Is Charles going to make it,” she asked softly, knowing how much you had hoped he could squeeze it into his schedule.
You shook your head, keeping your smile bright. “No, he is stuck in Maranello today. The simulator schedule is crazy before the next race. But he sent a beautiful message this morning, and we are going to celebrate properly when he has some time off.”
“That is a shame, but we will make sure you have an amazing day anyway,” she promised, squeezing your arm before the marshals began ushering the students inside the grand hall.
The interior of the building was breathtaking. High, vaulted ceilings stretched overhead, decorated with intricate gold leaf that caught the light of the massive chandeliers. Rows upon rows of wooden chairs filled the center of the hall, quickly filling up with graduates, while the balconies above were packed with proud parents and friends. The air was thick with anticipation, a low hum of voices and the occasional sound of an organ tuning in the background.
You found your assigned seat in the middle of the crowd, smoothing down your gown as you sat. The seat next to you was occupied by a classmate who was busy nervously rehearsing his name pronunciation, while on your other side, someone was fanning themselves with their program. You looked up at the balconies, scanning the faces of the families, watching them wave and point down at the floor. For a fleeting second, you imagined seeing a familiar pair of green-green eyes looking back at you, but you quickly shook the thought away. He was in Italy, hundreds of miles away, wearing a red team shirt and staring at a virtual racetrack.
The ceremony began with a grand procession of academics in elaborate robes, their heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden stage. A series of speeches followed, filled with advice about the future, the importance of resilience, and the value of the education you had just completed. You tried your best to listen, but your mind kept wandering.
You remembered the nights you had spent studying at Charles’s apartment in Monaco, surrounded by textbooks while he sat on the floor nearby, stretching after a long day of training. You remembered how he would occasionally look up, make a funny face to make you laugh when you were stressed, or walk over to massage your tight shoulders without saying a word. When you had struggled with a particularly difficult module, he had sat with you and made flashcards, trying his absolute best to pronounce the complex academic terms in his soft, accented English, making you laugh so hard that the stress had simply melted away. He had been your rock throughout the entire journey, and it felt strange to cross the finish line without him standing right there.
The reading of the names began. The procession of students moving toward the stage was orderly and fast, a conveyor belt of achievements. Your heart began to beat a little faster as your row was called to stand. You filed out into the aisle, smoothing your dress one last time, your palms slightly damp.
Step by step, you moved closer to the stage. You watched your classmates walk up, shake hands with the chancellor, receive their scrolls, and walk off the other side. The applause was a continuous, rhythmic wave of sound.
“Y/N Y/LN,” the speaker’s voice boomed through the microphone.
You took a deep breath, stepped onto the stage, and walked toward the center. The bright stage lights blinded you for a brief moment, but you kept a proud, steady smile on your face. You shook the chancellor's hand, took the scroll, and turned to face the official university photographer, holding the pose for a split second before walking down the steps on the opposite side of the stage.
As you walked back to your seat, a profound sense of relief washed over you. It was done. You were officially a graduate. You sat back down, holding the scroll tightly in your lap, a genuine, joyful smile spreading across your face.
When the ceremony finally concluded with a shower of confetti and a loud, collective cheer from the graduates, the doors of the great hall were thrown open. Everyone poured out into the warm afternoon air, a sea of black gowns and flying mortarboards as students began throwing their caps into the sky for photos.
You moved through the crowd, looking for a quiet spot near the edge of the university courtyard where you could take a few photos to send to Charles. The courtyard was packed, filled with emotional parents hugging their children, friends taking group selfies, and champagne corks popping in the distance.
You found a relatively quiet corner near a stone archway, framed by climbing green ivy. You took out your phone, snapping a quick selfie of you holding up your degree, your cap slightly tilted on your head.
“I did it, Charles,” you typed out, attaching the photo. “Officially graduated.”
Before you could even hit send, a hand gently rested on your waist from behind, and a familiar, warm voice whispered directly into your ear.
“I know you did, mon amour, and you look absolutely beautiful.”
You froze, your heart stopping for a fraction of a second. You knew that voice better than any other. You turned around so quickly that your academic hood swung around your neck, and there he was.
Charles was standing right in front of you. He was wearing a tailored, dark navy suit that fit him perfectly, a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, and his hair was styled in its usual, effortlessly messy way. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, but as he looked at you, he slid them down the bridge of his nose, revealing those bright green eyes, crinkled at the corners with the widest, proudest smile you had ever seen on him.
“Charles,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. “What, how are you here?”
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, and lifted you slightly off the ground, pulling you into a fierce, desperate hug. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, a mix of expensive cedar and fresh mint. The weight of his arms around you made the entire world dissolve around you, the noise of the crowded courtyard fading into nothing but background static.
“I am here because there was absolutely no way I was going to miss this,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion as he gently set you back on your feet, keeping his hands resting on your waist.
“But your simulator sessions,” you said, looking up at him, still utterly bewildered. “The team, Maranello, your meetings. You told me you were in Italy this morning.”
Charles laughed, a soft, melodic sound, and reached up to gently adjust your graduation cap, which had gone askew during the hug. “I lied, mon amour. Well, not entirely. I was in Italy yesterday. But I may have had a very long, very persuasive conversation with Fred, and some of my engineers.”
He took your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I spent the last three days working double sessions. I was in the simulator until two in the morning on Tuesday and Wednesday, just so I could get all the work done ahead of schedule. And then, I caught a private flight at four o'clock this morning from Bologna to London. I landed a few hours ago, drove straight here, and snuck into the back of the hall just as they were starting to call the names.”
You stared at him, your eyes wide as you took in the sheer logistics of what he had done. “You flew in this morning? Charles, you must be absolutely exhausted.”
“I do not care about being tired,” he said, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that made your heart flutter. “When I saw you walk across that stage, holding your degree, with that beautiful smile on your face, every single hour of simulator work, every mile of travel, it was all completely worth it. You have worked so hard for this, Y/N. I have watched you study until your eyes were red, I have watched you doubt yourself, and I have watched you overcome every single obstacle. I was not going to let a simulator session keep me from being here to see you shine.”
A tear slid down your cheek, catching the sunlight. Charles noticed it instantly, his expression softening as he reached up with his thumb to gently wipe it away.
“Hey, do not cry,” he whispered, his voice incredibly tender. “This is a happy day. No tears allowed, unless they are because you are happy.”
“I am happy,” you laughed, wiping at your eyes as you leaned into his touch. “I am just so shocked. I really thought you were in Italy.”
“That was the plan,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It took a lot of coordinating. I had to make sure your friends did not ruin the surprise, and I had to coordinate with the university to get a guest pass at the last minute. But we pulled it off.”
He looked around the busy courtyard, noticing a few people starting to point and whisper as they recognized the Scuderia Ferrari driver standing in the middle of a university graduation. Charles smiled politely at a group of students who were looking over, but then turned his full attention back to you, his priority clear.
“Come,” he said, gently taking your hand and pulling you toward the edge of the courtyard where a sleek, black car with tinted windows was waiting by the curb. “We have a very long, very special evening ahead of us, and I want to spoil you properly.”
“Where are we going,” you asked as he opened the passenger door for you, holding his hand over the doorframe to make sure you did not bump your graduation cap.
“It is a surprise,” he said, walking around to the driver's side and sliding into the leather seat beside you. He started the engine, the quiet hum of the luxury car filling the cabin as he pulled out into the London traffic.
Once you were safely away from the crowded university, Charles reached across the center console and took your hand, resting it on his knee as he drove. He looked relaxed, the tension of the F1 world completely absent from his face.
“So, tell me everything,” he said, glancing over at you with a smile. “How did it feel when they called your name? Were you nervous?”
“Terrified,” you admitted, leaning back against the comfortable leather seat, still feeling like you were dreaming. “My heart was beating so fast I thought everyone in the front row could hear it. And the stage lights are so bright, I couldn't see a thing. I was so scared I was going to trip over my gown.”
Charles squeezed your hand, chuckling. “You looked perfectly graceful, mon amour. I was watching from the very back, near the exit doors, and you looked like a queen. Everyone was applauding, but I promise you, I was clapping the loudest.”
“You really saw me?”
“Of course I did. I have a video on my phone to prove it, though my hand was shaking a little bit because I was so excited,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am going to keep that video forever.”
The drive took you through the heart of London, past iconic landmarks bathed in the warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun. Eventually, the car pulled up to a magnificent, historic building tucked away in a quiet, exclusive neighborhood. A valet stepped forward immediately, opening your door and greeting Charles with a respectful nod.
You stepped out of the car, looking up at the grand facade of the building. It was a private, historic townhouse, converted into an ultra-exclusive hotel and restaurant, known for its absolute privacy and world-class service.
“Charles, this is beautiful,” you whispered as he joined you at the entrance, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“Only the best for my graduate,” he replied, guiding you through the heavy oak doors.
The interior was stunning, a blend of classic British heritage and modern luxury. Dark wood paneling, velvet drapes, and soft, warm lighting created an intimate, elegant atmosphere. A hostess greeted you warmly, immediately taking your graduation gown and cap with a smile and congratulating you on your achievement.
“This way, please,” she said, leading you and Charles up a grand, winding staircase.
Instead of guiding you toward the main dining room, she led you down a quiet hallway to a pair of double doors at the very end. She opened them, stepping aside to let you enter first.
You took a step inside and stopped in your tracks, your hand flying to your mouth.
The room was a private rooftop terrace, completely enclosed in glass, offering a breathtaking, panoramic view of the London skyline as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of deep pink, orange, and purple. In the center of the room was a single, beautifully set table, adorned with dozens of white roses, flickering candles, and crystal glasses that caught the fading light. A small ice bucket sat nearby, holding a bottle of champagne, and soft, acoustic music was playing quietly from hidden speakers.
“Charles,” you breathed, turning to look at him. “You did all of this?”
He smiled, a soft, proud look in his eyes as he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on your head. “I wanted to make sure we had a quiet space where we could celebrate without any distractions. Just you and me. You have spent years putting up with my crazy life, my races, my travel, and my fans. Tonight, the spotlight is entirely on you. No racing, no media, no pressure. Just a celebration of you and everything you have achieved.”
You turned around in his embrace, looking up into his eyes, which were filled with a warmth that made your chest ache. “Thank you. I don't even know what to say. This is the most incredible surprise.”
“Do not say anything,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. His lips were warm and gentle, tasting faintly of the mint he always chewed, and you melted into the kiss, letting all the residual stress of the past few weeks wash away.
When he pulled back, he smiled, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Now, let us sit down. I am starving, and I know you must be too after all that waiting.”
He pulled out your chair for you, waiting until you were comfortably seated before taking his own seat opposite you. A waiter appeared silently, popping the champagne with a soft, practiced hiss and pouring the golden, bubbling liquid into your flutes.
Charles raised his glass, looking across the table at you, his expression suddenly serious and full of emotion.
“To my beautiful, brilliant partner,” he said, his voice rich and steady. “I have seen firsthand the sacrifices you made to reach this day. I have seen you study in hotel rooms across the world, on flights, and late at night when you were exhausted. You never complained, you never gave up, and you achieved this all on your own strength and intelligence. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side, and I could not be prouder of you. To your graduation, mon amour.”
Your glasses clinked with a clear, ringing sound. You took a sip of the cold, crisp champagne, the bubbles tickling your throat, feeling a deep warmth spread through your chest.
The dinner that followed was nothing short of spectacular. Charles had arranged a bespoke tasting menu, featuring some of your favorite dishes, prepared with exquisite detail. Each plate was a work of art, but the food was only a backdrop to the conversation.
Without the pressure of a race weekend looming over him, Charles was completely present. He listened intently as you described the funny moments from your final semester, the eccentricities of your professors, and the sheer relief of handing in your final dissertation. He laughed at your jokes, held your hand across the table, and looked at you with an undivided attention that made you feel like the only person in the world.
In turn, you asked him about his crazy week. You wanted to know exactly how he had managed to convince his team principal to let him escape Maranello.
“Well,” Charles said, taking a sip of his wine with a sheepish grin. “At first, Fred told me it was absolutely impossible. He said the simulator schedule was too tight, and we had a major aerodynamic update we needed to test before Hungary. But I told him, Fred, you do not understand. She has been there for me through every single race, every win, and every crash. She is graduating, and if I am not there, I will be thinking about her the entire time I am in the simulator anyway, so my feedback will be terrible.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You did not actually tell him that.”
“I did,” Charles insisted, his eyes sparkling. “And then I promised him that if he let me go, I would arrive in Hungary earlier, work extra hours on Thursday, and do whatever it took to make up the time. I even offered to buy him a very nice bottle of Italian red wine. Eventually, he sighed, shook his head, and said, go, Charles, but do not dare be late for the flight to Budapest. So, here I am.”
“You are incredible,” you said softly, your heart swelling with love for him. “I know how much pressure you are under, especially right now. To do all of this for me, it means more than I can ever express.”
“You do not have to express it,” he said, leaning across the table to press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Seeing you happy is all the reward I need.”
As the evening progressed, the sky outside turned to a deep, starry black, the lights of London glittering like a million tiny diamonds below the terrace. The waiter cleared the final plates and brought out a beautiful, miniature cake, decorated with a tiny chocolate mortarboard cap and the words, Congratulations, Graduate, written in elegant gold icing.
Charles watched with a delighted grin as you blew out the single candle on the cake.
“Wait, before we cut the cake, I have one more thing for you,” he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a small, square box wrapped in heavy, cream-colored paper and tied with a delicate silk ribbon. He slid it across the table toward you.
“Charles, you didn't have to get me a gift,” you protested, even as your hands reached for the ribbon. “You being here is more than enough.”
“Of course I had to,” he said, his voice soft. “Open it.”
You carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a velvet box. Inside, resting on a bed of white silk, was a stunning, delicate gold bracelet. The chain was incredibly fine, but what caught your eye was the small, circular pendant hanging from the center. On one side, your graduation date was engraved in tiny, elegant script. On the reverse side, you noticed a set of numbers.
You looked closer, squinting slightly in the candlelight. “Are these, coordinates?”
Charles nodded, his smile soft and full of meaning. “Yes. Those are the coordinates of the library where we first met, back when you were a first-year student and I was just a driver trying to find a quiet place to read without being recognized. You didn't even know who I was, you just told me to keep my voice down because you were trying to study for an exam.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips as the memory came rushing back. It had been a rainy autumn afternoon, and he had been speaking on the phone in his native French, his voice carrying through the quiet study area. You had walked over, completely stressed about a chemistry test, and shushed him. It was only when he apologized with that sheepish, charming smile that your annoyance had melted away, starting a conversation that would change both of your lives forever.
“I wanted you to have something that represents where we started, and where you are now,” Charles said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity. “You have accomplished so much since that day in the library, Y/N. And I wanted you to always remember that no matter how far we travel, or how crazy our lives get, that foundation is always there.”
“It is beautiful, Charles,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. “I love it so much. Will you put it on me?”
He stood up from his chair, walking around the table to sit beside you. He gently took the bracelet from the box, his long, skilled fingers working the delicate clasp with surprising ease. He wrapped the gold chain around your wrist, securing it, before lifting your hand to press a soft kiss to the skin right next to the pendant.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, looking out at the city lights. The warmth of his body beside you, the quiet music playing in the background, and the weight of the beautiful bracelet on your wrist made everything feel perfect, complete.
“What happens next,” Charles asked quietly, his hand resting over yours on the table, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. “Now that you are officially a graduate, what is the next step for my brilliant engineer?”
“I don't know,” you admitted, looking out at the glittering skyline. “For the first time in my life, I don't have a syllabus to follow or an exam to study for. It is a bit scary, to be honest. The future is completely open.”
Charles turned his head, kissing the top of your temple. “It is not scary, mon amour. It is exciting. You can do anything you want now. You have the degree, you have the talent, and you have the determination. And whatever you decide to do, wherever you decide to go, I will be right there, cheering you on, just like you have done for me.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. “I will move heaven and earth to be there for you, just like I did today. You are my team, Y/N. Always.”
You smiled, turning your face to look at him, the candlelight reflecting in his green eyes. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet luxury of the private terrace, with the city of London laid out beneath you like a carpet of light, you knew that no matter what challenges the future held, you would face them together.
You leaned in, sealing his promise with a long, sweet kiss, the taste of champagne and chocolate lingering on your lips, a perfect end to a day you would never, ever forget.
