The Dream In F1 I Charles leclerc I Horsechanic

The unexpected

Prologue:

There I stood, just inches apart from him, our bodies almost touching. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as I felt his warm breath brushing against my face, my neck, and those dazzling eyes of his seemed to peer into the depths of my soul. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, drowning out the noise of the world around us.

His gaze never wavered, and I saw a swarm of emotions flicker through his eyes – curiosity, hint, and a desire that mirrored my own. As he leaned in closer, my heart skipped a beat, and I closed my eyes in anticipation, unsure of what would come next.

As our lips drew closer, I felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through me, my senses heightened. The steam from his warm, soft lips devoured me and as my muscles tensed, I saw my life flashing before my eyes.

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From the moment I first laid eyes on the breathtaking spectacle of Ormula 1 racing, I knew that it was my destiny to become a star in the heart-pounding sport. However, my mother's concerns echoed in the back of my mind, her fears about the high-stakes nature of this adrenaline-fueled sport. Yet, like the horses thundering down the racetrack, I couldn't be deterred from my dreams.

While I understood the dangers involved, I refused to let fear dictate my path. Instead, I found a way to immerse myself in the world I loved so dearly – as a horse-mechanic, known as a horsechanic. This role allowed me to be at the heart of the action, caring for the horses that carried the brilliant drivers to victory. Through my work, I not only get to see the race up close but also contribute to the world of Ormula 1.

Ormula 1 is competitive high-speed horse racing, moving at 200 km/h, featuring renowned racers like the lightning-fast Nike Louda, who have become celebrated world champions. In my time on the circuit, I've formed deep connections with the drivers. I've had the privilege of talking with every driver at least once. The charismatic playboy, Challel Lecrel has something special, some kind of star quality that is so tangible, yet so rare. Amidst a sea of horsechanics, I yearn for his recognition, drawn to the way his soft lips curl when he smiles, craving something more than just small talk around the track.

Supporting Challel, are we horsechanics. When a horse's hooves get damaged, horsechanics like myself are there to tend to them. We have multiple hooves that the drives can use, from durable "hard" hooves, "medium" hooves and fast BUT delicate "soft" hooves.

As my mind wandered, a sudden shout of my name jolted me back to reality.

      -Y/n! Enough with the daydreaming, and work that ass!"

Ralph's voice echoed in the paddock with a deep French accent as he approached me. He is around 50 years old, light blonde hair, deep fried, with hay-like texture. He was the seasoned leader of the horsechanics. 

      -"Excuse me?" My voice hardened, I said, refusing to let the offensive remark slide without a response. "I'm not here to be a pretty face, Ralph. I'm here because of my passion and expertise in this field. Show some respect."

Before the tension could escalate further, Ralph quickly answered.

      -Noooo. Y/n the Perrari bought the wrong thing, it is an ass. You know, a donkey. He has no saddle! Please work!

Despite the annoyance lingering within me, I took a deep breath and composed myself, ready to face another day of hard work. Sighing, I made my way over to the donkey, who seemed unfazed by the annoyed horsechanics bustling around him. Brushing off the dust from the saddle, I couldn't help but cringe at the smell of leather – it was never a scent I appreciated, except for, well, in the bedroom, of course. I quickly shook my head, dismissing the silly thought, and refocused.

Nourishing the horses before the race is a delicate process, as they are treated to a feast of carrots and carefully measured doses of diesel– a special concoction that fuels their energy for the next thrilling race. Afterward, I lead them to their paddocks, tucking them in under blankets to keep them free from dust before their next grand performance.

Yet, amidst the adrenaline-filled races, there are occasional challenges. Sometimes, the prestigious Perrari team may not provide us with the best equipment, leading to unexpected hurdles during hoof changes. I recall a time when a routine hoove stop took nine minutes instead of the usual two, causing an embarrassment for me and my family.

As I turned my head back towards the donkey, there was a tall dark statue standing by him. There, before me, was Challel Lecrel, effortlessly mounting the donkey's back with strength that left me breathless. With just one hand, he dragged his muscular body onto the horse's saddle, displaying a raw power that was truly captivating. The veins on his arms are highlighted by the way his back muscles bulge. He is wearing a t-shirt, in his signature Perrari-red. His grip on the donkey is strong yet delicate. Caressing the leather with his thumbs as he adjusts his grip.

As he settled into the saddle, a soft groan escaped his lips. His dark locks cascaded around his face, and with a swift motion, he brushed them aside, revealing those mesmerizing eyes that seemed to hold the world's secrets and all the tracks' pain.

As he gazes across the room. Our eyes meet. It has been a few weeks since the last time we talked. Everytime feels like the first.

My heart fluttered as I watched him take control of the ass, adjusting the saddle, effortlessly finding perfect balance with his hips.

He smiles at me with his perfect gentle smile.
"Am I disturbing your work?" he says, flashing a playful wink my way. There's something undeniably alluring about the way his voice curls when he smiles.
"No, not at all!. It's always a pleasure to see you. It has been a long time since last."
"It's been too long, don't you think?" he teases, a cheeky grin dancing on his lips.

A tinge of sympathy fills me as I recall the challenging year Challel and Perrari have had. "I've heard you've been busy with the strategist," I remark cautiously.
"The only strategist here is Hainz," he laughs, but there's a hint of sadness in his voice. It's evident that this hasn't been the best year for Challel or Perrari.
"I'm sorry that Perrari accidentally bought you two donkeys instead of horses," I say, hoping to offer some comfort.
His smile remains, though there's a trace of resignation in his reply. "It's okay. I've grown used to extreme pain at this point. Besides, they said it would be an upgrade."
My heart goes out to him, understanding the disappointment he must feel. "I'm sorry," I say sincerely.
Challel's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the air feels charged with unspoken emotions. "Well, I'm glad that there are people like you here who can cheer me up," he says, his wink leaving me unsure if it's just a friendly gesture or something more.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. As I turn around I see an even taller and darker statue; its Cable Hainz the second driver for Perrari.

   -"What are you doing here? Don't you have business to attend to?" he remarked, his words cutting like a razor.

Rolling my eyes at his arrogance, I couldn't back down. I slowly closed the distance between us, locking eyes with his intense dark brown gaze.

    - "I do whatever I want."

    -"You work for me, act like it," he snapped, attempting to assert his authority over me.