#charles leclerc ferrari

[sydwritess]

Groupchat's with Y/n Series 2, Pt. 7

F1 grid x reader

Summary: group chats with Y/n and the drivers of F1

Warning: swearing

Notes: requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

Brit boi

I could only wonder why Charles hasn't shown up today.

Roscoe's dad

Sadly I know

Lando norriz

Ooo drama

Roscoe's dad

No drama. Trust me.

I-sack

Wait is he hurt?

Francisco

Did he get fired?

Kimi Kardashian

Is he okay?

Beary 🫐

Did he crash?

Roscoe's dad

😂😂 no no he is okay. He's is perfectly stable condition.

Y/n

Not after last night 😏

Lando norriz

What...? OH MY GOD

Kimi Kardashian

#confused

I-sack

YASSS GET FREAKY WIT IT GIRLYPOPPPP

Y/n

*insert cardi b laugh*

Francisco

YES QUEEN SLAYYYYY

Kimi Kardashian

You are fucking disgusting.

Y/n

Adopted NEXT QUESTION

Pasty ❔️

Y/n's the type to adopt Kimi only for his chicken parm

Y/n

YOU KNOW IT BITCH THAT SHIT HE GOOD AS FUCK TO!!!

Kimi Kardashian

You are cut off.

Y/n

WHATTTTTTT BITCH I WILL KNOCK YOU OUT

I-sack

CPS??? Hello I have an emergency.

Y/n

😈😈😈

Roscoe's dad

Ferrari had an important meeting today

Y/n

Cute

Roscoe's dad

Charles should have been there

Y/n

Aye aye 🤷‍♀️ it ain't my fault he can't walk

Beary 🫐

😨 fuck this gc I'm out.

Y/n

Aweee, my shaylaaaaaa, I'm sorryyyyy bebé

Yuki #1

Oh my God 🤣

Lando norriz

Why can't I get this 'my shayla' treatment

Y/n

Fuck you, you stole my Charles win this weekend. Fuck offff

Chili

'My Charles?' HE WAS MINE FIRST

Y/n

AND NOW HE'S MINE SO BACK OFF

Chili

WHOT???? HE'S MINE SENORITA

Y/n

HE'S MINE NOW THE HICKIES PROVE IT

Chili

I CAN GIVE A BETTER HICKIE THEN YOU

Y/n

I CAN GIVE A BETTER BJ THEN YOU

Brit boi

Why is everything so sexual lately?

Y/n

Cause you and Max haven't resolved this sexual tensionnnnnn

I-sack

Yessss get it bestie boooooo

Gas station lover

NO WE DO NOT HAVE THAT. I HAVE A WIFE

Y/n

Sameeeee

Charlie

What??????

Y/n

Hehe I meant hubby

Riccardio

Yeah can you lot guess what his name is in her phone???

Lando norriz

Oop spill the tea sis

Brit boi

Oh boy this is gooddd

Y/n

No shame in my game 😏

Riccardio

It is, and I quote. 'Hubby w/ A&D'

Lando norriz

What the hell is A&D???

Brit boi

Is it some sort of restaurant?

Pasty ❔️

I think it might be an American thing?

Chili

Never heard of it in Spain

Riccardio

Shall I tell them?

Y/n

Go right ahead

I-sack

OH MY GOD I KNOW EWWWW

Lando norriz

I'm actually interested now.

Riccardio

W/ A&D means 'with abs and dick'

Lando norriz

OH WHAT THE FUCK

Brit boi

BLOODY HELL YOU JUST RUINED MY LUNCH

Y/n

AND YOU RUINED MY BABY'S CHANCES FOR WINNING HUNGARY!

Roscoe's dad

Even I knew what that meant. And I'm older!

Y/n

Correction *old* but I guess older works now. You boomers

Roscoe's dad

At least I have abs

Y/n

I'm not interested, you brit. Go find someone else ✋️

Francisco

Oh my god, wtfff 🤣

Kimi Kardashian

My life is ruined

Lando norriz

Why what now?

Pasty ❔️

This keeps getting better and better

Kimi Kardashian

Well, I was scrolling through Instagram reels, and I saw a video from 2020 of Y/n twerking in a club!!!

Y/n

OH YEAHHHH that's when I was litttttt!!!!

I-sack

Oop- bestie be bussin it down

Y/n

YOU KNOW I A-T-E!

Yuki #1

Is it to late to go back? I think it's to late

Gas station lover

Yes my friend. You have to live with this

Y/n

HATERS GONNA HATE

Alexa

I literally love your energy. Genuinely I need tips like... HOW??

Y/n

Thanks queen love love, love you. Uhm, yeah, just that I don't care what other people think, and I don't get embarrassed. And if someone wants to talk shit (cough cough lando) then I shit them right the fuck up cuz they be talking but they lives are so fucked over like a fucking crepe.

Lando norriz

WHATTTTT why me?????

Alexa

Love that for you truly inspiring ❤️

Roscoe's dad

Yeah your not embarrassed but we are all trembling when you make sex jokes

Y/n

Hehehe I AIN'T NO FUCKIN CINDERELLA

I-sack

STUPID BITCH, Y/N WITH THE P AND THE P STAND FOR POPPIN

Francisco

AYY AYY AYYYYYYY 🙌

Y/n

THAT'S HOW WE BE DOIN ITTTTTTTT

Alexa

Oh my God 🤣 truly the best 🤣

Y/n

Thx queen. If you want my autograph hit me up on Insta 💋

I-sack

💋💋

Francisco

💋💋

Lando norriz

Autograph for what? Best sex jokes of the year

Y/n

Don't hate the player hate the game Bae

Pasty ❔️

Not franco and isack being her mean girls bsfs

Y/n

YES, SOMEONE ACTUALLY GOT THAT JOKE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!! (ish)

Charlie

Hmmm I was about to say 🤨🤨

Y/n

He's not cute anyway, only you baby

Pasty ❔️

WHAT? I am the cutest out there!!!

Y/n

Nahhh

Pasty ❔️

Name a person cuter than me

Y/n

In paddock or out?

Pasty ❔️

In.

Y/n

Straight off the charts (after my hubby) I'd have to go with.... lewis

Charlie

MY TEAM.ATW

Brit boi

So shocked he forgot how to type!!! 😂😂

Y/n

Yeah cause let's face it. Max is Dutch, so right off the bat that means handling his anger issues after a loss. Lando is too cocky and self struck. Oscar is just... plain. George is too tall (nice abs, tho) Kimi, Isack, Yuki, Ollie, and Frank are my kids. Danny's a boring retired fuck. Alex is my bestie. And Carlos is... mid.

Gas station lover

YOU BETTER WATCH IT

Y/n

See my point?

Lando norriz

I am not cocky. I'm confident.

Y/n

*cough* cheater *cough*

Pasty ❔️

It'd called being professional.

Brit boi

It's true.. Lando calls me a giraffe. But my abs are great 😏

Kimi Kardashian

All always be your favorite kid

I-sack

NO I AM!

Beary 🫐

I think we ALL know it's me.

Riccardio

I am not boring! I play golf for a living!!!

Alex

Thanks bestie, see you at the salon tomorrow 😘

Chili

Mid. MID?????

Roscoe's dad

Thanks... I guess... just stick to Charles for now. He loves you. I do not.

Y/n

Y'all are such little girls it's fucking insane. And yes lando, your cocky. Oscar, your dry as fuck when texting. Golf is boring as fuck! I can't even make it into the fricking hole!!

Charlie

I can 😏

Lando norriz

PLEASE STOPPPP

Y/n

Bitch you make it into 20 different holes a week. Who's that calling? Oop- it's ur next STD

I-sack

BURNNNN

Kimi Kardashian

STRAIGHT INTO ASHES

Brit boi

Oooo that was good though

Pasty ❔️

He got so drunk one night he even proved it to me... that was a long chart

Lando norriz

WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP. I TOLD YOU TO NOT TALK

Y/n

Jaw dropped 😨

Beary 🫐

Yeah I'm out.

Francisco

So when we are doing the drivers parade... you are saying to stand on the opposite side of the bus as Lando???

Y/n

Si senor

Pasty ❔️

Very

Chili

#lando blocked

Brit boi

Jesus christ 😂

Lando norriz

You are fucking awful.

Roscoes dad

What has this world come to???

Y/n

Infected bitches wanna be infected notches while I'm out here using protectionnnn

I-sack

Always use protection. Learned that in school

Y/n

Stay in school Shayla's

Kimi Kardashian

Mentally face palming

Francisco

Second hand embarrassment

Y/n

That's how we do it up in hereeee

Brit boi

Are you high?

Y/n

Want somee????

Brit boi

At this point... yes

Lando norriz

I'll have some!!!

Y/n

Get you and ur disease away from me mothafucka. Georgie meet up w/ me I don't wanna get u in trouble

Charlie

You got me in trouble my making me miss my meeting

Y/n

I'm just better. Prettier. Interesting. They talk about numbers while I talk about.... *censored*

I-sack

Dude how are you this funny!!!! You need to start teaching classes

Y/n

Cause I'm just me :) the life of y/n y/l/n

Francisco

MOVIE. NOW. LEWIS YOU NEED TO GET THAT INTO PRODUCTION NOW.

Roscoe's dad

I don't think I could do that.

Y/n

The Life of Y/n Y/l/n. Cast: Me, Charles, Isack, Frank, Kimi, George, Carlos, Lewis, Oscar, Alex, Ollie, Danny.

Lando norriz

What about me?

Gas station lover

And me!!

Y/n.

I don't support anger issues and cocky ppl

Lando norriz

😨😨

Roscoe's dad

Honeslty if I had the right stuff I could make it work

Y/n

YASS me and Charles above interest. Anyone else and I will legit sky dive with no cord.

Roscoe's dad

Any others?

Y/n

Well there was this one guy in high school but I think he's in jail now. And then another one but I'm pretty sure he died... "I don't know.... and I don't really care."

Charlie

"I'm pretty sure I uh- said in the beginning of this chat that if I get asked anymore questions I might head butt someone."

Y/n

Anger issues much? Those people are told to ask questions. It's out of there control. Their nice. You're miserable. We get it

Alexa

She doesn't even need to say anything! She just needs to breath and a man's ego is broke!!

Y/n

Take it from the real ones, girlypop

Gas station lover

Wow... okay. So yeah... I hope a bunch of people come up to you, swarm you until you get tired.

Y/n

Nahhh ain't me. I'd be giving autographs and selfish all day. I respect my people.

©sydwritess

Hey loves! Pt. 7 is here! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mimisweetz @averylambros

[indychanel]

charles it’s okay let me crash out with u

[kornelias]

Charles Leclerc | Scuderia Ferrari & Max Verstappen | Red Bull 💙❤️

(Nico and Gabriel, thanks for your reference)

[miaaaxxz]

Bush Man | CL16

summary: It was supposed to be an ordinary night.Just a walk home after the club, the familiar silence of Monaco in the early hours. But then you found him. In your bush.And nothing about that night or the morning was normal. word count: 1.2K

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

NOT PROOFREAD

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After another race where Ferrari had managed to screw him over , again, Charles Leclerc flew back to Monaco with a head full of noise and no desire to hear anyone’s voice but his own.

Summer break had officially started, but instead of rest, he felt hollow. Drained. Like something inside him had burned out quietly while no one was looking.

He didn’t even unpack. He just threw on a jacket, grabbed his wallet, and left the apartment. No plans, no texts. He needed to not think. So he went where thinking was nearly impossible: a club.

The lights were too bright. The music too loud.

He hadn’t meant to drink that much , a couple shots, just to take the edge off. But the edge only grew sharper. The music blurred into a hum, the voices faded into static, and at some point, the idea of staying in that room, in that body, became unbearable.

So he left. Alone. Jacket forgotten somewhere. Phone slipping in and out of his hand. His steps unsteady as he wandered through the warm streets of Monaco, passing bars, cafés, glowing storefronts he’d known since childhood.

He didn’t know where he was going.But eventually, he saw it. A patch of green. A quiet little garden in front of someone’s house. And for some reason it looked inviting.

So Charles Leclerc, Formula 1 driver, Ferrari’s golden boy, collapsed into a bush like it was a luxury mattress.

જ⁀➴

You had just said goodbye to your best friend at the corner of the street, the two of you walking home from a night out that was supposed to last one drink and ended five hours later. Typical.

Lina lived a few houses down. You were staying at your aunt’s place for the summer, which thankfully wasn’t far. She made sure you got to the front gate before turning back, still talking about some guy in the club who had danced.

“Text me when you get in” she grinned.

“Only if you promise not to drunk-message your ex again.”

You waved her off with a lazy smirk and headed inside. Within minutes you were out of your dress and into the comfiest t-shirt you owned. The one with the slightly faded print and sleeves you always rolled twice.

You had just sat on the edge of the bed when your phone lit up.

Lina. Again.You frowned, picking up.

“I don’t wanna scare you or anything, but I think you have a Charles Leclerc in your bush.”

You blinked. “…I have a what in my bush?”

“A man. In your garden. And he looks exactly like Charles freaking Leclerc. Like... Monaco’s price. Ferrari golden boy"

You sighed. “You’re drunk. Lina, babe, we’ve talked about this. You can’t just manifest men into existence.”

“I’m dead serious. Come outside right now. Bring a flashlight. Or a bat. I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

She hung up.

Still half-convinced this was some sleep-deprived prank, you shoved your feet into the first pair of slides you could find and tiptoed down the stairs of your aunt’s house. The summer air in Monaco was heavy and warm, humming faintly with the remnants of club music from the hill above.

Lina stood dead still near the front hedge, phone flashlight trained at something just beyond the leaves.

“There. Look,” she whispered dramatically. “I swear is him”

You squinted. There was definitely someone in the bush. A figure lay curled up awkwardly in the bushes, one shoe missing, hair a chaotic mess, muttering low curses in French.

“…Oh my God,” you breathed.

“Right?” Lina hissed. “Tell me that’s not him.”

You angled your phone light closer to his face.

Brown eyes squinted open, immediately scrunching shut again. He groaned.

“Putain de lumière… qu’est-ce que c’est…”

Yep. That was him.

That was Monaco’s golden boy. Passed out in your shrubbery.And definitely very drunk.

“What do we do? Call someone?” you whispered, panic rising. “Ferrari? A manager? The Pope?”

Lina looked down at him, then at you. “You want me to call Ferrari and say ‘Hi, your driver’s in my garden and it's look like he's dying'"?

“I don’t know!” you hissed. “Check if he has his phone or something.”

She leaned down, carefully patting his pockets while trying not to fall over.

“Found it!” Lina pulled out a sleek phone completely black.

“…It’s dead.”

Of course.

You both stared at each other for a long moment, like you were in the middle of some weird alternate universe.

“What now?” Lina asked.

You glanced down at him again. He groaned, rolling slightly, trying to find a comfortable position in the shrubbery.

“…We drag him inside.”

“What?”

“We can’t just leave him in a bush, Lina!”

“I’m not dragging an unconscious Formula 1 driver into the house like it’s normal!”

You sighed. “Help me with his legs.”

Lina groaned. “This is how people end up on the news.”

“He’s heavier than he looks,” Lina hissed, practically folded in half as she tried to lift Charles by the shoulders.

You had one arm under his knees and another gripping the back of his now grass-covered shirt. “Why is he so floppy?”

“Because he’s unconscious. And a man.”

You adjusted your stance, your sock sliding slightly on the tile as you both finally dragged him through the front door. He groaned low in his throat, head lolling against Lina’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” you whispered instinctively, though no one else was home.

Your aunt had left for Nice that weekend, a spontaneous getaway with her best friend.

“I think my spine just snapped,” Lina muttered as you both half-carried, half-dragged Charles into the living room and awkwardly maneuvered him toward the couch.

“I think my soul just left my body.”

You bumped his legs against the coffee table on the way. He barely flinched. Just let out another dramatic groan in slurred French and melted deeper into your grip.

“Almost there,” you breathed, sweat prickling the back of your neck.

With one final push, the two of you managed to drop him gently, but not gracefully onto the couch. He slumped sideways, one arm flopping dramatically off the edge.

You both stood back, panting.

Lina placed her hands on her hips. “Well. That’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to Charles Leclerc’s thighs.”

You gave her a flat look.

She smirked. “Too soon?”

You walked over, grabbed the soft grey throw blanket from the armchair, and unfolded it.

“Help me roll him.”

“What are we, paramedics?”

“Shut up and lift.”

Between the two of you, you managed to get him somewhat properly positioned head on the pillow, legs stretched out, arms tucked in enough to not dangle off the sides.

You pulled the blanket over him, tucking it slightly around his shoulders, then stepped back and stared at the scene.

Charles Leclerc.Formula 1 driver.Sleeping like a tranquilized bear in your aunt’s house.

“What even is my life right now?” you muttered.

Lina flopped onto the armchair. “Honestly? I don’t know, but I think I love it.”

Eventually, Lina stood up and stretched. “I should go before I start making questionable choices.”

You walked her to the door. “Thanks for helping me not drop him on the front steps.”

She winked and disappeared into the night.

You closed the door behind her, locked it, then turned back to the couch.

Charles was still fast asleep, mouth parted slightly, one hand now curled under the pillow like he’d always belonged there.

You sat cross-legged on the rug, watching him for a moment that lasted longer than it should’ve.

Then you muttered to yourself, “Tomorrow is going to be weird.”

જ⁀➴

Sunlight poured gently through the curtains, casting long stripes of gold across the wooden floor.

The apartment was still. Quiet. Still half-asleep.Until a soft, muffled groan broke the silence.

Charles stirred on the couch, head sinking deeper into the pillow before lifting suddenly, his brow furrowed, lips dry and slightly parted.

His body ached. His mouth tasted like regret. And his brain? Foggy. Useless.

He blinked against the light, squinting as he tried to figure out... anything.

This wasn’t his house.This wasn’t anyone’s house he recognized.

He sat up slowly, groaning again as the blanket slipped off his chest.

The first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar living room: warm-toned walls, a throw blanket now puddled in his lap, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the air.

The second thing he noticed... was you.

Curled up in the armchair across the room, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, a half-full mug resting on your knee. You looked like you’d just woken up too, hair messily tied up, but your eyes were fully on him.

He stared at you.

You stared back.

A tense beat passed.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to remember how he’d ended up here.

He opened his mouth, voice dry and cracked.

Then, he finally spoke.

“Where am I?”

You stretched and yawned softly, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“You’re at my aunt’s,” you said simply. “She’s away for a few days, so I’m looking after the place.”

Charles blinked, trying to piece together the foggy fragments of last night.

Then the memory hit or at least part of it.

“…Did I…?” he asked, voice hoarse. He gestured between the couch and where you were sitting. “Did we…?”

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

“No,” you said, lips twitching into a small, amused smile. “ Babe, I just found you in the bush.”

Charles stared at you.

“…Sorry, what?”

“The bush,” you said again, nodding toward the window. “Outside. You were face-down in it. Very committed, honestly.”

He let out a noise half groan, half mortified choke. His hands dragged down his face as if he could wipe away the entire memory.

“Putain…” he muttered, muffled.

You took a slow sip of your coffee. “So no, nothing happened. ”

“God…” he muttered again, now flopping back against the couch, blanket tangled around his legs like it was trying to strangle him out of pity. “Please tell me no one saw that.”

You tilted your head.

“Are you asking if I’m going to tell anyone, or if I’ve already drafted the tweet?”

He cracked one eye open. “Both.”

You smirked. “Depends.”

His brow furrowed. “…On?”

You leaned back, swirling your mug slowly.

“Do I get free paddock passes for life if I keep it a secret?”

His groan echoed through the room as he dropped his head back against the pillow.

“Please don’t blackmail me.”

You grinned. “Too late.”

Another pause.

Then silence again. But this time, a little warmer. He peeked at you from under the blanket.

“I really was in a bush?”

You nodded. “Dead center.”

“…That explains the scratches on my neck.”

“And the bit of leaf still in your hair.”

He reached up immediately, running his fingers through it. You pointed. He missed it. You walked over, leaned down, and gently plucked the small, crumpled green leaf from behind his ear, holding it up like a prize.

“Souvenir?” you asked.

He let out the softest, defeated laugh.

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@luvs4haechan @emneedshelp @thepassionatereader @paaarrriiiii @formula1fordisaster @vinylphwoar @virtualperfectioncat @sltwins @lost-library-of-violets (Tagging based on previous fic! If you don’t wanna be tagged in other future things I post, just lmk 💌 part 5 of Unfinished Business soon)

[aphrostiel]

The black knight of Monza ♠

I couldn't not-do a special drawing for this weekend <3

[cutielando]

jealous boy | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which Charles gets jealous of his new teammate

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: jealous!charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

The day had finally come.

Lewis Hamilton’s first official day as a Ferrari driver.

The news had rocked the motorsport world, and as someone who had grown up idolizing Lewis, you couldn’t help but be excited. Even though you were now dating Charles, Ferrari’s golden boy, the childhood fan in you was practically vibrating with anticipation.

You had always been a Lewis fan.

Posters of him covered your bedroom walls when you were younger, and you’d spent countless hours watching his races, celebrating his victories, and defending him in heated debates with your friends. He had been the reason you fell in love with Formula 1 in the first place.

So, seeing him finally don the iconic red suit felt surreal.

Charles, however, did not share your enthusiasm.

Well, at least not entirely.

You didn’t notice it at first.

You were too busy scrolling through social media, liking every post Ferrari had made about Lewis’ arrival, rewatching the welcome video they had put together, and even pulling up old clips of his greatest wins to reminisce.

It wasn’t until you let out an excited squeal that Charles, who had been sitting beside you on the couch, finally snapped.

“Okay, that’s enough”

You blinked, looking up from your phone to see him frowning at you.

“What?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion at his outburst.

“This,” he gestured toward your phone, “is enough”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, frowning slightly.

Charles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a toddler.

“You’ve been talking about Lewis all day. Watching videos, liking posts, and acting like he’s the best thing to ever happen to Ferrari”

You tilted your head, confused by his sudden shift in mood.

“Charles, you know I’ve been a Lewis fan forever. This is huge for me. For the sport. For Ferrari. What are you on about?"

“For you, huh. I don’t see you getting this excited over me” he emphasized, pouting slightly.

You laughed, reaching out to poke his cheek as you finally understood what he was so mad about.

“Charles, I literally go to every race to support you. I wear your merch. I wake up at ungodly hours to watch practice sessions. You're my boyfriend. Of course, I support you” you said.

“Doesn’t feel like it right now” he mumbled.

Your heart softened at the sight of his pout. Charles wasn’t usually the jealous type - not when it came to other drivers, at least.

But seeing you gush over someone who was now technically his teammate? That was different.

“Are you seriously jealous?” you teased, grinning.

“No” Charles said, scoffing at you.

“You totally are” you raised an eyebrow, enjoying teasing him.

“I am not jealous” he crossed his arms tighter, looking away. “I just don’t like hearing my girlfriend go on and on about another driver.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Charles, Lewis was my childhood hero. I can be excited about this and still love you, you know”

He sighed, finally meeting your gaze.

“I know. It’s just… he’s Lewis Hamilton. Seven-time world champion. One of the greatest of all time. And now he’s in my team, in my garage, and my girlfriend is acting like she’s about to faint every time she sees a new picture of him in Ferrari red.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Charles, I promise you, no amount of childhood admiration can compare to how much I love you.”

He hesitated before finally melting into your embrace, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Positive” you said, kissing the tip of his nose.

He sighed dramatically.

“Fine. But if I catch you wearing a Hamilton-Ferrari shirt before you wear mine, we’re breaking up” he said, his tone dead serious.

You gasped, pretending to be offended.

“Charles Leclerc, are you really making me choose?”

“Yes, and you better choose wisely" he smirked.

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You are ridiculous, you know that?" you asked, shaking your head at him, but smiling.

“And you are mine,” he murmured against your lips, tightening his arms around you. “No matter how much you love Lewis.”

“No one compares to you, Charles” you said, grinning.

“Good.” He smirked. “Now, let’s go get you a proper Ferrari shirt - with my number on it.”

And just like that, his jealousy was gone, replaced with the warm satisfaction of knowing that, no matter how much you had admired Lewis Hamilton growing up, your heart belonged to him.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 , 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

summary , charles goes on buzzfeed to read thirst tweets about him? no more like about his amazing girlfriend and their sex life

pairing , charles leclerc x fem! gf! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | next part

BUZZFEED → CHARLES LECLERC READS THIRST TWEETS

[leaawrites]

Hi can please request something with Charles Leclerc x reader based on Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

Juno (CL16)

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: when you see your boyfriend interact with kids, the baby fever kicks in.

Warnings: talks of pergnancy, fluff,

Wourdcount: 0.6k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

She couldn’t look away from him. And although it happened often, now it felt different. It felt more significant. The deep care inside her flooding her veins and daydreams taking over reality.

What if this was their child?

She had seen Charles with kids before. It always amazed her how gentle he was and how much of a natural. How he wouldn’t get frustrated with their crying and sometimes be the only person who could calm them down.

But now, since they had a talk about it, where Charles confessed that he had thought about it before and that - when it happened - he wouldn’t be one to say no. In fact, Y/n was the one who stopped it from happening that night. Saying, that she was still enjoying her tile with him alone and that she didn’t want anything to change in their little world. But maybe it wouldn’t be bad to expand it a bit further.

They were walking through the paddock, when all of a sudden, a smile child was stood in front of Charles, bright eyes and a huge smile on his face. He was holding a Ferrari cap that was double his head size and a pen. Straightening his arms and wiggling his fingers to make his wish be known. Charles crouched down, holding her hand until the last second, before taking the cap and the pen and smilingly interact with the little boy.

She didn’t know what he said, she didn’t pay attention. All that she knew was, that they had to have that talk again.

Charles closed the door to his driver room as soon as they were in it. Pulling her close to his chest and kissing her like he’d never done it before. Like this was the first time he tasted her. Y/n started giggling at the feeling of his excitement to be alone. She lost his lips but held him close, her arms around his neck and his on her hips.

“You look beautiful today,” Charles whispered, loving to see the blush that crept up on her cheeks whenever he spoke in that low voice.

“Thank you,” Y/n said back, smiling. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

When those words left her lips, Charles looked at her perplexed. He hadn’t done anything wrong right? He hoped to know everything that made his girlfriend uncomfortable after 4 years of dating, especially if it was his doing.

“What is it?” His voice went back to normal.

“You remember that talk we had a few weeks ago, right? The one about our future?” She asked, making him nod in confusion. She didn’t want to break it all off, right? “And you remember how I told you that I wasn’t ready to have a baby, right?”

Charles once again nodded. Not catching up to what she was indicating. “What about it?”

“I couldn’t help but reconsider when I saw you interact with that little boy outside,” she confessed, looking down and biting her lip in a nervous manner.

He could feel her hands tighten behind his neck, her fingers nervously fumbling.

“You wanna have a child with me?” He asked. His finger hooking under her chin to make her look up. His voice was soft, the same as his eyes, some eagerness laying behind both.

“I say, that if it happens, I’m not gonna be mad about it,” she declared. Knowing he would’ve started trying right than and there if she gave him permission to.

“Tonight,” he said, kissing her once more. “A little you would look so cute, you know.”“Tonight,” he said, kissing her once more, making her melt into him. Pulling away enough to speak he spoke his own mind. The thoughts occupying him for longer than he could count the days for at this point. It seemed like they haf aleays been there. “A little you would look so cute, you know.”

“A little us sounds better,” she hummed.

[loveln4]

CHARLES LECLERC x OLD FRIEND!READER

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

- Hozier, Like Real People Do

synopsis: Charles Leclerc bumps into an old acquaintance and spends the summer with her.

warnings: mentions of lestappen lmao

Italy was beautiful. It was her first time there and she was traveling alone.

She had visited the local gelato shops, grabbing the most unique of flavors. Rose, caramelized fig, and salted pistachio raspberry.

She was on her fourth cone when she spotted him. Y/n had to do a double take to make sure it really was him.

He was looking down a fruits, a bag of flowers in his hand. She poked his ribs, and he turned confused by this action. He didn’t know who she was until her perfume reached his nose.

“Ciao.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “How’ve you been?”

They hugged longer than they should’ve. Charles didn’t want to let go of her, aching to touch something so familiar. Something untouched by the somber years he had after she left. She was something happy.

Walking down the main street together, they didn’t say a word to each other, not until they sat down at a small family owned restaurant to eat lunch.

“How is your mother?” She said, gently picking up her ice cold beverage and drinking it. Her french was weak as she hadn’t lived in Monaco for long, leaving after six years.

Charles was so entranced by her face that he didn’t answer immediately. “She— she’s well.” Y/n looked different from when they had last seen each other, but she was the same girl he met in that art museum on a Saturday morning.

“That’s good.” They fell into silence, unsure of what to say next. “How’s racing?”

He lightly smiled and replied with a shrug, “It’s—It isn’t what i expected.”

“Why’s that?” She tilted her head. “From what i’ve seen you’ve been doing well.”

This gained Charles’ full attention. “You’ve been watching me race?”

“Here and there whenever i’m with my friend. He’d have it playing on the tv when i’m over.” The waiter had placed down their food, “Thank you.”

He? Charles was jealous, which was unusual. He hadn’t seen her for 9 years, and the old feelings he had for have rushed back. “He is a fan?” He said after taking a bite of his meal, “What team?”

“Ferrari, though you aren’t his favorite…”

“Huh.”

“What does ‘huh’ mean?” She giggled at this.

“Just that i’m more handsome than my teammate.” He cockily said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Carlos is attractive, but uh…have you seen me?” Charles wiggled his brows.

This made her burst out laughing. “Remember when I called you the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen? You still are.” Her laughter died down, “You look good, Charles.”

“You—you look heavenly.” He said, forearms resting on the table. He cleared his throat to clear the air forming between them, “What—uh, where are you staying?”

Y/n opened the door to her airbnb. It was an open house with large windows that were easy to open and close, a backyard that leads to the ocean, and a beautiful bedroom. The bed’s covers was embroidered with many colours, the pillows white with gold accents.

“This is very you.” He said as he looked around, “Very, very you.” He whispered as he touched a small canvas that she brought with her from back home.

“Good, because i wouldn’t have wanted to buy a house that didn’t represent me.”

“You bought this?” He asked stunned.

“Mhm,” She hummed in response. “I needed to move from home. I needed something different.” Y/n picked up a large canvas and hung it on a wall, “I couldn’t think of anything to paint, so i decided to move somewhere with unfamiliar surroundings.”

“Maybe you should move back to Monaco, couple of things have changed.” He suggested, leaning back against her kitchen counter, “Mum would be happy to see you again.”

“First of all, you just want me close. Secondly, i’d really like to see her again.”

As the night went on they laughed at their shared memories, “Remember when you kissed Max?” Y/n asked Charles, laughing in his face at the memory.

“I thought it was you!” He exclaimed as he stirred the sauce in the pot. “It was dark—like, really dark. And I could smell your fresh, clean perfume, and so when I saw a figure I—i just turned the person—who i thought was you! And just kissed them.”

She perched on her tippy toes and whispered near his ear, “With tongue, i heard.”

Charles groaned and covered his face but quickly recovered, “Well i do speak French after all.”

“You aren’t french though.”

He rolled his eyes and in french said, “You know what i mean.”

“Show me what you mean.” She muttered to herself in french while washing the dishes.

Little did she know; he heard that.

Charles’ pasta was good.

Not great, not scrumptious.

Just good.

“Lorenzo has always been a better cook than you.” Y/n said as she slurped up the last strands of spaghetti.

Charles scoffed at her insult, “Well, if you’re any better you could’ve helped.”

“Ha! But if I helped than i wouldn’t have been able to taste your horrible pasta.”

Charles has probably rolled his eyes more than ten times the entire night due to y/n’s stupid insults, but it made him happy.

It gave him joy that he was trying so hard to feel these past couple years.

Y/n and Charles washed dishes, cleaned the benches, and threw out the rest of the pasta because that wasn’t food that anybody could eat.

Charles began to grab his things, the flowers he carried were now wilted and somber. He was about to exit when something made him turn around to face y/n.

“You need me to stay over?” He asked her.

She started to nod, “Yes. I do need you to stay over.”

And so he did. They spent the rest of the night giggling, painting and eventually, when it came to resting; they slept in the same bed.

A/N: needed something fun and nice because i haven’t been in the best mood recently (as some could tell..). I hope you enjoyed this one and remember:

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[sunny44]

Passenger princess

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Secret girlfriend!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n releases her new song and the guy in the music video shocks everyone.

Inspired by the song Passenger Princess by Nessa Barrett.

Yourusername Instagram post

Liked by @dualipa, @charlesleclerc, @lewishamilton and others 9183891

@Yourusername Passenger Princess next weeeek 🏁🏎️

@lewishamilton can’t wait to listen

@yourusername I think you’ll like it

@dualipa yesss queen

@user91 I’m so exited to see the music video

@landonorris nice hair

@charlesleclerc counting the days to listen

Liked by @yourudername

@user0172 we can see that the f1 drivers are Y/n’s fans

The release of the *Passenger Princess* music video was about to happen, and I felt the nerves as if it were my first project. It wasn’t just the fact that it was a new song, but the fact that my boyfriend would be in the video, and people, besides not knowing we're together, would freak out once they saw the video and realized it was him.

I still remember when I suggested the idea of him participating.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/n,” he said, laughing, as we sat on my couch. Charles always seemed to find a way to make any moment fun, even when I was being completely serious.

“I’m serious! You’d be perfect for the role,” I replied, crossing my arms, pretending to be impatient. “The song is about a girl who loves being the passenger in her boyfriend’s car. Who better for that than my boyfriend, who happens to be one of the best Formula 1 drivers in the world?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it literally has to be your boyfriend,” he said, still laughing.

“Fine, but don’t complain after seeing me kiss and sit on some other guy’s lap in a skirt.” I said indifferently, and he immediately pulled me into his lap, kissing my face all over, making me laugh.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” He sighed, still smiling. “No one’s kissing your lips but me.”

“I knew you’d agree,” I said, and he kissed my face several more times.

“You know this is going to cause a storm, right?”

I knew. I knew the internet would go wild when they saw Charles as the lead in my video. But what they didn’t know was that Charles and I had been together for two years, and so far, no one had figured it out.

“I know, but just because you’re in the video doesn’t actually mean you’re my boyfriend. It’s just a role.”

“Alright then.”

Now, two months after we shot the video, the moment of the premiere had arrived.

The song was released last night, and people were already freaking out. Today, we were at the Monza paddock, where I’d be spending the weekend with Charles.

He was nervous, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

“Do you think they’ll notice we weren’t acting?” he asked quietly, as we sat in one of the areas reserved for the drivers, watching the preparations for the race.

I smiled.

“They’ll probably suspect and ship us because of the video, but if we don’t give any signs that we’re actually dating, they won’t be sure, love.”

Deep down, I knew the fans would go crazy. The song was already a hit, and the fact that Charles was the male lead in the video would only increase their curiosity. But our relationship had always been just ours. No speculations, no gossip.

The video was finally released, and as we stood in the Ferrari garage, surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and, of course, other drivers, I smiled as I heard my voice and looked up at a large screen where the video started playing.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly how we had imagined it. Charles, next to me, shook his head with a small, restrained smile. His eyes met mine, and I could see how much he was enjoying everyone’s reaction.

The video showed scenes of the two of us, him driving a Ferrari while I sang, having fun beside him. The scenes of us exchanging knowing looks were filled with a naturalness that few could fake. Because, of course, we weren’t faking.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Lando appeared in front of us. “How did you get Charles to do this?”

“I just thought he’d be perfect for the role and, with a lot of effort, I convinced him,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

“Uh-huh, sure...” Lando muttered, glancing back and forth between Charles and me. Before he could say anything else, Pierre Gasly appeared with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Hey, Charles, since when are you an actor?” Pierre teased, giving Charles a light punch on the shoulder.

“Since Y/n convinced me to do it,” he answered, still maintaining his calm tone. But I knew how much he was enjoying this whole situation.

The confusion only grew as the day went on. The video was an instant hit, and soon, comments on social media started pouring in.

#YnCharles was trending, and theories about a possible romance between us wouldn’t stop appearing. The paddock was in constant buzz, full of journalists and fans speculating whether something was going on between me and Charles.

Charles and I exchanged discreet glances and smiles while keeping our secret. We had gone through this before, watching people try to guess what was happening between us. But we had always kept everything private, just for the two of us.

By the end of the day, as the sun set over Monza, Charles and I found a moment of privacy in the Ferrari motorhome. He pulled me into a hug, kissing the top of my head.

“So, do you think they’ll figure it out now?” he whispered.

“I think it’s just a matter of time before someone connects the dots.”

Charles looked at me for a moment, his green eyes shining with that soft expression he always had when it was just the two of us.

“I don’t care if they find out anymore, Y/n. I’m tired of hiding. I just want people to know you’re mine.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. We had always been so careful, so reserved. But I knew Charles was right. We couldn’t keep hiding forever.

“Maybe it’s the right time,” I said, holding his face in my hands. “But until then, let’s let them have fun with their theories.”

Charles smiled, pulling me closer. “Two years together, and still no one suspects.”

“We’re good at this,” I joked, kissing him lightly.

As we embraced there, away from the curious eyes of the paddock, I knew that when the secret finally came out, we’d be ready.

F1gossip Instagram post

“Everyone was shocked to see our Lord Perceval Charles Leclerc in the new music video of singer Y/n Y/l/n’s. In the music video, Y/n is the passenger of Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari and they act like a very sexy couple.

Who else has never imagined Charles doing something like this?”

Read the full articule in the link in our bio.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Yes, I’m a passenger princess”

[sydwritess]

Group Chats With Y/n

F1 grid x fem!reader

Summary: texts in the F1 group chat with y/n

Notes: requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

Y/n Y/l/n has made a group chat

Oscar Piastri changed to Pastry 🥐

Max Verstappen changed to Maxine✨️

Lando Norris changed to Lanlikesfish

George Russell changed to Georgie

Kimi Antonelli changed to Pasta boi

Charles Leclerc changed to Charlie

Lewis Hamilton changed to Roscoe's dad

Yuki Tsunoda changed to Red bull #1

Carlos Sainz changed to Carlos 🌶

Ollie bearman changed to Bear minimum

Alex Albon changed to Alexandria

Daniel Ricciardo changed to Riccardio

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

Lanlikesfish

Alright, who made this?

Y/n

The one and only ✨️✨️

Maxine✨️

Well I can see you have favorites.

Y/n

It's okay. If your nice to me I'll change your name 😊

Max

I will change it myself. 😒

Y/n

And I set the setting so you can't. Hehe

Bear minimum

Am I a favorite?

Y/n

Of course, cause your nice 😊😊

Y/n changed 'Bear minimum' to Bearman #1

Bearman #1

Awe thx

Y/n

Ofcc

Pasta boi

I like this name. It's suits me well.

Lanlikesfish

Ugh I hate fish!

Y/n

Haters gonna hate.

Pasta boi

For realll

Georgie

Hater's gonna hate hate hate hate and the players gonna play play play play

Y/n

HAHA WHAT THE FUCK YOU SWIFTIE 😭

Georgie

What can I say?

Pastry🥐

I am no pastry

Y/n

Yes you are. white as a ghost dude

Red bull #1

I like being a favorite. Honeslty guys it's not hard being nice to her. She's nice to 🙂

Y/n

Awe thnx yuki. That's why your my fav. Unlike... others

Lanlikesfish

HOW CAN I BE FAVORITE TIPS AND TRICKS

Roscoe's dad

you guys... i can't believe i ran over a ground hog.... 😪

Charlie

he lived a good life mate

Carlos 🌶

oooo I like my name!! Chile pepper just means i'm spicyy

Y/n

How the fuck did y'all get into F1 y'all are so unserious lmfao

Maxine✨️

I take my job very serious.

Y/n

Oh yeah, because crashing into George on purpose is very very ethical.

Maxine✨️

Yeah because.. I had reasons.

Y/n

Boy can't even think of a straight answer.

Alexandria

Alexandria? Really?

Y/n

Yes. it fits. A vibe

Pasta boi

Might go get some pasta after this premier

Georgie

Funny kimi kardashian

Y/n

OMG THAT IS A BETTER NAME!

Y/n changed Pasta boi to Kimi Kardashian

Kimi Kardashian

Ugh. Not cool

Georgie

I'm quite excited for it actually

Y/n

of course you are.

Georgie

Are you not going?

Y/n. I can't be in the same room as brad.

Maxine✨️

why?

Y/n

He just ruins the movie.. entirely. For me at least

Lanlikesfish

*cough* I agree *cough*

Y/n

FINALLY someone agrees.

Georgie

Really Lando?

Lanlikesfish

look all I'm saying is I don't like that I was only in there for like what, 30 seconds? That's a of a stab to the heart mate.

Roscoe's dad

Yes but the main character is also Brad Pitt for a reason

Landlikesfish

It should have been me. I'm way better looking

Y/n

Okay you narcissist

Landlikesfish

It's all about personality and confidence

Hey loves! Different from what I normally write but I thought it was a unique idea! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

[81pastrys]

I'm so so sorry I didn't know you didn't write illness for the dad fics! Can I request Charles!dad to a teen daughter who loves doing crazy stuff and make his heart jump every time. Thank you

Don’t do that!

Summary— Juliette can’t seem to keep herself safe and Charles can’t help but worry for her

Warnings— worried dad Charles ; mentions of sprained wrist ; mentions of an ER

A/N— for anon: don’t feel bad for not knowing! There are just some topics I don’t feel comfortable writing or feel like some people might take the wrong way!

Dad Charles List

Charles loved Juliette, she was amazing. However she was clumsy, and reckless. She had been to the ER more times than he can count on his hands. He would wrap her in bubble wrap and leave her home if he could.

They were at the paddock, Ferrari all the boring mess it usually is, and she wondered off. The 15 year old could wander off, but Charles always found her doing something stupid. Today she decided she wanted to jump through the track gates.

Charles has had his fair share of head buts with the metal bar at the top, and she saw other drivers do it all the time. Charles turned his back to see her climbing and he rushed over.

“Juliette!” He yelled. She stopped and looked at him. “What are you doing?” He asked. She shrugged and stared at him like she wasn’t about to hurt herself. “There’s a metal bar there, you can hurt yourself!” He went to pull her down but she held her ground.

“Papa, I’m fine, I know there’s a bar there.” She jumped down to ease his worries. “There’s nothing fun to do around here.” She huffed a breath at him.

“That does not mean to go and do something stupid.” He informed her. She went to his driver room and played on her phone, but that got boring. She snuck out without Charles noticing and went to William’s to see Carlos.

“Jules, why are you here?” Carlos was like a second father to her. He knew she was sneaky, not that she would get in trouble but she definitely gave Charles mini heart attacks. “Does Charles know you’re here?”

“Tio!! It’s boring at Ferrari!” She whined. “Papa won’t let me jump the track fence.” She crossed her arms to mock Carlos and he smiled.

“That’s dangerous.” He said. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.” She walked back to Ferrari with a pouty face. As soon as she walked in Charles held his chest and hugged her. “She’s a sneaky one.”

“Juliette, quit scaring me.” Charles demanded. She still had a pout on her face and Carlos laughed. “Lila and Mila are here, go to McLaren.” Charles told her.

“They don’t like me papa!” She argued. She could not be more wrong. Lila loved Juliette and Mila saw her as another sister. “They always leave me out, like they don’t care.”

“I highly doubt that, they love you and ask about you all the time.” Charles told her. She groaned but went anyway. The girl greeting her when she came in.

“Ryker is here.” Mila teased. Juliette went red in the face at the mention of her crush. “There’s an F3 race later.” Ryker was Daniel Ricciardo’s son, who took up racing and got into F3 as soon as he was old enough and crushes the field.

“Stop!! He doesn’t like me!” Juliette laughed with the girls. They decide to wander the paddock and Charles caught a glimpse of them doing gymnastics near tables and such.

He felt his heart flip as Juliette nearly fell into one and the girls all laughed. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Ryker went on a walk to find his dad and ran into the trio. “Hey ladies’.” He greeted in his Australian accent.

Charles walked over, his heart pounding in his ear now. He knew Juliette liked him. “Preparing for your race?” Juliette asked. Charles tapped her arm and she rolled her eyes. “Yes papa?”

“We’re about to leave, anything you left in the room?” For one, they were not about to leave, for two she never takes things out before throwing them in her bag.

“No, everything is in my bag.” She told him and he walked off giving the other smiles and waves. “Where’s your dad at, Mr. Champ?” She flirted.

“Ahh I think he’s at his rosé pop up. I was about to go find him, do you want to come with?” He asked them. They all walk around to find the beautiful purple display and see Ricciardo working and talking.

“Ryker, come see.” He called over. They talk, presumably about racing based off Daniel’s hand gestures. “Hey girls.” Daniel greeted them with his signature smile.

“Hey uncle Danny.” Lila said, admiring the rosé bottles. “This is pretty.” Daniel snatched it from her and reminded her she was way too young.

“Come on Danny, one taste?” Juliette begged with her puppy eyes. Daniel rolls his eyes and Ryker laughs.

“Good try darling, but I think it’ll take more than that.” Ryker told her with his beautiful smile. Danny begins to pour a glass and Charles ends up behind them, his heart jumping at thinking the glass was for her.

“Better not be for her.” He joked with Daniel. They laughed and Daniel sipped the wine he poured. “Good, we’re about leave anyway.” Charles shrugged. He whisked Juliette away and she had a burst of energy.

“Race to the garage?” She offered. Charles smiled at her. “Ready, set, lights out!” She caught him off guard, leaving him laughing. She jumped over a cone and Charles started running now, not wanting to be far away when she wipes out.

“Slow down!” He joked. She giggled and made it to the garage before him, nearly falling like 6 times. Each time his heart skipped a beat. “Alright, alright, go grab your bag Jules.” He laughed.

She went to grab her bag and Charles heard her wince in the room, opening the door to her jumping up and down while shaking her hand.

“Calm down, what happened?” He asked, grounding her while she held her wrist. “Did you slam it?” He grabbed her hand and it was hot to the touch and red.

“No!” She screamed at him, the pain too much. “I tripped on the way in and landed on it.” He rubbed her back.

“Okay, I’ll get your bag, do you think you broke it or just sprained it?” He asked. If it wasn’t broken it was definitely sprained. They left and when they got home he pulled out an ice pack and brace for her to wear.

“Thank you papa.” She said quietly. “I was fine all day.” Charles laughed at her statement and sat next to her on the couch.

“I’m proud we didn’t end up in an ER.” He said. “My heart almost stopped a million times today.” He explained every scenario in which caused him anxiety. They laughed at each one.

Charles would be a nervous wreck over the simplest things.

ALSO note that Ryker has joined the group!

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv @itznotsophia

[kornelias]

Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen 💙❤️

just two emotional support rivals sharing a tender moment

[dreamydrifts]

zitti e buoni: charles leclerc

| pairing: charles leclerc x reader

| genre: f1driver!charles, f1journalist!reader

| stefy's note: i've written and rewritten this fic since last year, from october. and this time i had some help from @ellieisque (with feeding my charles delulu scenarios) so this is for both important girlies in my life @violletsareblue and @ellieisque , so enjoy girlies ;)

| warnings: swearing, manipulation (by the media), toxic behaviour (by the media), hardships of journalism, mentions of make out, minors dni

| face claim: sabrina carpenter

| word count: 6.2k

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

The vivid memory of your boss giving you the opportunity to cover the Monza Grand Prix by yourself, still lingers in yout mind. Being here is what you waited for since you looked at races with your father. He made you see the sport from a different perspective, which you then realized you could use for pursuing journalism.

Checking and memorizing the stats followed by writing freelance articles late into the night for several years must have payed off because they were the reason you were given your first major Formula One assignment. The same day, the boss called you in his office handing you this opportunity with a warning. "Don't mess this up."

And you didn't plan onto. That's what you had planned. No distractions. No drooling over drivers. You'll be focused only on work.

"The Italian Grand Prix at Monza is considered a whirlwild of scarlet-clad, Tifosi along with the roaning engines and the intoxicating scent of burnt rubber." Opening the notebook, you started writing after clutching the paddock pass tightly as you looked curiously arounf the paddock.

Coming from a small but ambitious media outlet most of the time meant no exclusive interviews with the drivers, but the usual a meeting room. You couldn't complain a lot as the meeting room was quite spacious but the amount of questions you could ask were limited. Limited to none.

The spacious meeting room you were promised in the official Formula One email was nothing compared to reality. The meeting room consistend of a small square table and a chair right in front of it. As soon as you entered it, the image of hundreds of phones openly recording the famous Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc talking about his expectations about the race.

Checking the time once again you realize that you were given the wrong or the supposedly wrong meeting hour. From the ten or fifteen minutes you thought you had none left, making you late to the interview all together. As soon as you entered the room, all the eyes were on you for a split second. All judging you for being late. But it wasn't your fault after all.

The pre-race conferrence is packed with reporters from major networks, but you manage to squeeze into the third row. With your phone raised to record Charles Leclerc's answer, you could feel his dark eyes scanning the room as he discusses the strategy. His voice is calm, but there's something beneath it. An intensity. A quiet confidence that sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, disaster strikes.

Your phone slips from your sweary grip clattering onto the floor interrupting the press conference. The sound is deafening in the momentary lull between questions. Fuck. What a way to catch his attention. Heat floods your cheeks as you bend to grab it, but before you can, a hand - sleeve rolled to the elbow, a silver watch glinting - plucks it up effortlessly.

Charles Leclerc himself.

He straightens, holding your phone out with a faint smirk. Your fingers brush as you finally take it back, and then subtle - barely there - he winks at you before returning back to the table. To the other journalists's questions. The room erupts into judging eyes, but your pulse still hammers in your ears.

For the rest of the press conference, you were nothing but focused. Your mind replays the moment over and over again. The warmth of his hand. The playful glint in his eyes. Was it just politeness, or did he actually notice you? Did THE Charles Leclerc notice you?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"The air in the Monza paddock crawled with the anticipation as qualifying began. The Tifosi packed the grandstands, their scarlet flags waving in unison as their chants of "Forza Ferrari" echoing through the trees of the old royal park." You continued writing in your notebook as the atmosphere was totally different that you have expected. It was nothing like you had imagined.

You stood at the edge of the Ferrari garage, your press pass dangling from your neck, your fingers gripping the notebook as you watched the screen intently. Ferrari had been strong all weekend, but so had McLaren. Charles' first runs in Q1 and Q2 were clean, his lap times consistently near the top. But Q3 - the fonal shoutout for pole - was where the real drama unfolded.

On his first flying lap, Charles was purple in Sector 1, his razor-sharp Ferrari through Curva Grande. But then, a slight lock-up into the second chicane cost him a tenth. He crossed the line P2, just behind Lando Norris.

Then the radio icon of Charles pops up into the screen seeing what the engineer had told him on the radio: "One more lap, Charles. Push for everything."

Come on Charles. Come on.

You held your breath as he began his final attempt. The car was a blur of red, howling down the main straight, the RPMs screaming as he breaked impossibly late into Turn 1, but then -

A sharp of oversteer exiting Ascari.

Fuck. Not again. So close.

The rear stepped out, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looked like he might lose it. But Charles caught it his reflexes almost supernatural. The mistake did cost him precious time.

When the checkerer flag fell, the standings flashed on the screens:

1. Lando Norris (McLaren)

2. Oscar Piastri (McLaren)

3. George Russel (Mercedes)

4. Charles Leclerc (Ferrari)

A groan rippled through the Ferrari garage. So close.

The media immediately swarmed the drivers after the session. You positioned yourself near the back of the scrum, listening as Charles faced the press.

"Charles, P4 - how do you feel about that?" A reporter asked.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, his expression calm but his jaw tight. "Not ideal, but not a disaster. The McLarens are quick here, but our pace is strong. Starting on the second row means we'll have options for the start."

Another journalist cut in. "That monent in Ascari - did that cost you pole?"

Charles exhaled, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he schooled it back into professionalism. "Maybe. But that's qualifying. One small mistake, and it's over. Tomorrow is what matters."

Then his eyes scanned the crowd - and landed on you.

You haven't raised your hand, but something about your quiet focus must have caught his attention. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for you to speak.

Heart pounding, you seize the moment. "Charles, you were talking about a wider line through Parabolica all session conpared to last year. Was that a deliberate change to manage tire wear for the race?"

A beat of silence. Then his lips curled into a small, appreciative smile. "Exactly right." He said, his voice warmer now. "We're expecting high degradation, so we adjusted the line to keep the tires alive. Smart observation."

The other reporters glance at you, some with curiosity, some with annoyance. Charles however held your gaze for a second longer than necessary before turning back to the next question.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"Race day dawned under a blistering Italian sun, the air thick with the scent of fuel and Tifosi anticipation. The sea of red in the grandstands rippled like a living thing, their chants of "Forza Ferrari" shaking the old royal park." You wrote down in the small notebook you always kept with you. You stood once again at the edge of Ferrari garage, your paddock pass sticking to your shirt in humidity, as you cletched the notebook.

"Plan A", you could hear coming through the Ferrari garage. "One-stop. Hard tire start. We go long."

A gamble.

When the lights went out, Charles launch was electric. He rocketed past Russel into Turn 1, his Ferrari's nose edging alongside Piastri's McLaren through the Rettifilo chicane. The crowed roared as the scarlet car emerged P3 by Curva Grande.

While Norris pulled away out front, Charles bibed his time. His hard tires, durable but slower early on, needed laps to settle. He held his position, his lap times metronomic - 1:24.5, 1:24.3, 1:24.4 - never pushing too soon. Never letting Piastri breathe.

Lap eighteen. Norris pitted first, swapping for mediums. McLaren expected Ferrari to cover them. They didn't.

"Stay out, Charles. Extend the stint." The icon of his radio pops up again. They were really going for it.

He obeyed, his pace now scintillating - 1:23.9, 1:23.7 - as his hard tired, now in their sweet spot, devoured the track. By lap twenty two he'd built a twenty two second gap to Norris.

Then Ferrari struck. "Box now. Box now. Soft tires."

A flawless two second stop. Charles rejoined ahead of Norris, whose fresher mediums couldn't match his soft-tire grip. The Tifosi erupted.

Now P2 Charles hunted down Piastri. The young McLaren driver defended hard, but on lap forty two, Chsrles feinted left into Curva Grande before jinking right, darting past through the Roggia chicane with a move so bold Mclaren's front wing nearly clipped his rear.

The italian commentator could be heard speaking through the barely heard speakers "He's through! Charles Leclerc is leading the Italian Grand Prix!"

The final laps were a masterclass in tire management. His softs were fading, Piastri closing at half a second per lap, but Charles was working his magic. He took every curb perfectly, his voice calm on the radio. "Tell me the gaps."

"1.2 seconds. Two laps to go."

The main straight on the final lap was a wall of sound. Piastri's McLaren loomed into his mirrors, DRS wide open - but Charles crossed the line 0.8 seconds clear, his fists already pumping into the cockpit.

As the Monegasque anthem, followed by the Italian anthem blared, Charles stood atop the Monza podium, champagne soaking his fireproofs, the Tifosi singing in exstasy. In the garage, engineers hugged; in the stands grown men wept.

And in the media pen, your hands shook as you scribbled your notes.

This is why you loved racing.

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The Monza podium celebrations had been electric - Charles drenched in champagne, the Tifosi roaring as he held the Italian frag high. Now, in the press conference room, the atmosphere was more subdued but still buzzing with energy.

You sat at the back, your small media outlet's logo barely visible on your pass compared to the Sky Sports and ESPN badges surrounding you. Most of the questions so far had been predictable: "Charles, how does it feel to win at Monza?", "Can you walk us through the overtake on lap forty two?", "Do you think Ferrari can keep this momentum?".

Charles answered them all with the usual polished charm, but you noticed the way his fingers tapped the microphone - just slightly - when questions got repetitive.

Then, the moderator pointed to you.

"Question from Y/N Y/L/N, Trackside Media." A flew journalists glanced back, eyebrows raised at the unfamiliar outlet. Charles gaze flicked to you, and for a split second, you could swear that his lips twitched into recognition - the girl who dropped her phone.

You cleared your throat. "Charles, you took a different line through Ascari on your final push lap compared to your earlier attempts. Was that a pre-planned adjustment or something you felt in the moment?"

Another beat of silence, just like before.

Then, Charles smiled - not the polite press smile, but something sharper, more intrigued. He leaned forward. "It wasn't planned. The car was understeering a bit early on, but after the last pit stop, the tires came alive. I felt i coild brake earlier, carry more speed through double apex. So i went for it."

He held your gaze just a second longer than necessary before adding. "Glad someone noticed."

A murmur rippled through the room. Your cheeks burned, but you grinned as you scribbled down the answer.

As the conference ends you pack your gear, satisfied with the footage you could have gotten and had got already - until a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"You dropped this earlier."

You turn. Charles stands there, holding out your press pass - the one that must have fallen during your fumble. Up close, he's even more striking, sweat still glistening on his brow, his race suit unzipped to reveal the scarled Ferrari fireproofs.

"Oh - thank you." You stammer.

Charles studies you for a beat, then tilts his head. "You're not with the usual press."

"No. Small independent outlet." You admit, bracing for dissmissal.

But Charles grins. "You seemed....different. Not asking the same questions everyone else does." A pause. "Would you be interested in a proper interview?"

Was he really asking you this? Was this a joke? Your breath catches. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. How about my place? Less...chaotic."

The invitation hangs between the two of you, electric. Before you can overthink it, you nod. "I'd love to."

You couldn't believe it. You just scored an exclusive interview with THE Charles Leclerc. And not only that?but at his house also.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Charle's Monaco penthouse was nothing like the sterile press rooms you were used to. The elevator opened directly into a sun-drenched living space, all warm wood accents and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Mediterranean like a painting. A vintage Ferrari poster hung beside modern abstract art, and a well-loved piano sat in the corner, sheet music splayed open - his new song.

He greeted you barefoot, in dark jeans and a sofr gray sweater pushed up to his elbows, a half drunk espresso abandoned on the kitchen counter. "You're early." He noted.

"Professional habit." You answered him, suddenly hyper-aware of your own outfit. A silk blouse and tailored slacks, dressed to impress bout now feeling overly formal.

"Relax." He murmured, as if he was reading your mind. "This isn't Sky Sports." He led you the living room, where a low leather couch faced the sea. Instead of the expected table-and-chairs interview setup, he'd arranged two microphones on a coffee table, a single camera on a tripod angled to capture the view behind the two of you.

"No press team?" You asked, while you sat your bag down.

"I sent them home." He handed you a glass of sparkling water lime wedges floating atop the ice. "Figured if we're doing this, we do it right."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"You've said before that racing is as much mental as it is physical. What does a bad day in your head look like? The kind no camera catches." You ask the question before checking once again your notebook to see if you read it correctly.

Charles exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "It's...like static. You know every move you're making is wrong, but you can't stop it. Your hands feel heavy on the wheel. Your foot hesitates on the pedals. And the worst part?" He met your gaze. "You know it's happening, and you're powerless to fix it."

Your pen hovered over the notebook. This wasn't the polished answer he gave Sky Sports.

"You grew up watching Schumacher dominate in Ferrari red. What did you feel the first time you sat in a real Ferrari cockpit?" You continued asking the questions you had prepared.

A slow smile spread across his face. "I cried." At your raised brow, he laughed. "Not in the garage - I waited until I was alone. But it was...overwelming. That childhood dream? Suddenly it was real. And the weight of it hit me all at once."

"What a mistake you made early in your career that still keeps you up at night?" You knew this would be a deep question for him as it can turn back to the races he lost in his career.

"Baku. 2021." The answer came instanty his voice tight. "I was leading , got greedy and crashed in qualifying. Threw away a sure win. Now? I never push quite as hard on thag corner, even when i know i can." A rueful shrug. "Fear stays with you."

"You're one of the best qualifiers on the grid. What's actualky going through your mind during a pole lap?" You wanted to ask this questions for years, it was a question both you and yout father were curious about.

"Nothing." Your surprise made him grin. "That's the secret. When it's perfect, your brain shuts off. You're not thinking - you're just doing. It's the closest thing to flying i'll ever feel."

"Ferrari's strategy calls have been...controversial. How do you stay calm when you hear something you dissagree with over the radio?"

Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You don't. You rage - but only after the race. In the moment? You trust. Even when every instinct screams not to." A bitter chuckle. "Doesn't mean i don't yell into my helmet sometimes."

You laugh for a moment along with him. "What's something about Formula One that frightens you?"

Silence. Then, quietly. "Being forgotten." He looked away, out at the harbor. "Not the crashes. Not the pressure. The idea that one day, no matter what i do., the sport will move on without me."

"You're known for being hard on yourself. What's one thing you're proud of, no asterisks?"

"Monaco. 2024." His voice softened. "Not the race - the qualifying. That lap was mine. No luck. No favors. Just...perfection."

"If you could erase one rumour about yourself, what would it be?"

"That i'm cold." His jaw tightened. "People think i don't care because i don't show it like others do. But the fire's there. It just burns quieter."

"What's a piece of advice you'd give your sixteen-year-old self?" You looked once again at the notebook checking to see if you were on time with the questions.

"Enjoy it." A sad smile. "I was so focused on the next step, I forgot to live the dream."

Last one. "What's something no one knows about Charles Leclerc?"

He held your gaze, suddenly serious. "I hate being alone. The silence after the race? It's the hardest part."

As the final question faded, you realized that your notes were abandoned. This wasn't an interview anymore - it was a confession. The Charles Leclerc the world saw - the focused, composed race winner, was just the surface.

The man in front of you? He was human. Flawed. Fearful. Real.

"That's it." You whispered shutting off the camera.

Charles slumped back into thr couch a hand running through his hair. "That was..."

"Honest."

Your eyes met. Somethibg unspoken passed between the two of you - an understanding.

Then with a shaky laugh, Charles gestured to the camera. "Please tell me that thing was off for the last part."

Your lips curved. "Wouldn't you like to know?" You say as you sat back next to him in the couch after shutting off the camera.

Impulsively then Charles says, as he catches your wrist where you hold the memory disk of the camera. "We should do this again. But without the cameras."

You froze. "Are you...asking me out?"

Charles blinked, as if startled by his own words. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile. "Yeah. I think i am."

A beat. The camera was off. No PR, no audience - just you and him.

"Good." You whispered. "Because i'd say yes."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The moment TrackSide Media uploaded the interview, the internet lost its collective mind.

Your phone erupted in a symphony of pings before you even had time to process what was happening. Twitter, Instagram, Reddit - every platform had already dissected the final thirty seconds of footage where Charles Leclerc, Ferrari's golden boy, had looked directly into the camera and said. "We should do this again. Without the cameras."

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| INSTAGRAM POST - SEP 3rd

F1Gossip

Liked by charles_leclerc, lando and 969,670 others

F1Gossip Charles Leclerc just publicly asked out a journalist. I REPEAT: WE ARE NOT SURVIVING THIS

View all 15,786 comments

user1 Lecler's PR team currently drafting a statement: Charles was merely being hospitable while Charles himself is texting Y/N 'so dinner tomorrow'?

user2 if this woman doesn't say yes, i will personally fly to Monaco and accept on her behalf

user3 who is she? some nobody trying to get some clout?

user4 charles could do so much better

user5 she's actually kind of cute though

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You stomach twisted as you scrolled. You expected some reaction, but not this. Not memes of your stunned face, not think pieces analyzing Charles body language, not hate messages flooding your DMs.

Your editor's text was the final nail in the coffin

| Mark Y/N. The video's at 500K views in two hours. The board wants a follow up. Are you actually dating him?

You threw your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

For the next forty-eight-hours, you existed in a state of suspended disbelief. Charles had texted you immediately after the interview dropped, "Ignore the noise - They'll move on by next week." but the noise was deafening. Every major sport outlet had picked up the story. Even Sky Sports had a segment titled "Leclerc's Love Life: What this means for Ferrari's Season."

Your inbox was a warzone. Interview requests. Podcasts invites. A People Magazine editor asking if she'd do a Getting Ready For My Date with Charles" spread.

By the time Friday rolled around, you were half-convinced you should cancel. It was too much. Too public. Too dangerous.

Then your phone buzzed.

| Char❤️ Still on for tonight? I promise i won't let Autosport crash our date

Against all logic, you smiled.

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The cobblestone path twisted away from the glittering harbor, the air thick with the scent of salt and frying garlic. Charles led you by the hand, his fingers warm and calloused against yours, his other hand shoved casually in the pocket of his dark jeans. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric stretched sloghtly across his shoulders, and a silver chain glinted at his throat in the dim glow of the streetlights.

No sunglasses. No pretense. Just him.

"You're taking me to a back alley?" You teased, your heels clicking against the uneven stones. "Should i be worried?"

Charles glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing at his lips. "Only if you're scared of the best socca in Monaco."

He stopped in front of an unassuming blue door, the paint peeling slightly at the edges. A handwritten sign above it read "Chez Manthieu" in faded script.

"This is your idea of a date?" To say the least that you were skeptical about his ideas of date and how he saw them, but in the same time intrigued.

"Better than some overpriced terrace where they serve three scallops and call it dinner." He pushed the door open, the warm hum of conversation and clicking silverware spilling out into the night.

Inside the restaurant was all cozy-checkered tablecloths, chalkboard menus, and the rich aroma of simmering tomato sauce and fresh bread. An older man with a flour-doused apron looked up from behind the counter, his face splitting into a grin. "Charles! Enfin!"

Charles laughed, releasing your hand to embrace the man in a quick, back-slapping hug. "Mathieu, this is Y/N."

Mathieu's eyes twinkled as he took you in. "Ah, so this is why you called ahead."

Charles rolled his eyes, but his ears pinked slightly. "Ignore him. He thinks he's funny."

Mathieu led you to a small corner table, half-hidden by a shelf of wine bottles. "I'll bring you the usual.", he said already walking away.

"The usual?" You raised your eyebrow at him. The usual would mean that he must have come here often enough.

Charles leaned back in his chair, his knee brushing yours under the table. "I come here when i don't want to be Charles Leclerc."

And just like that, you understood.

The socca arrived still sizzling from the oven, its golden surface blistered and crisp at the edges. Charles watched as you broke off a piece with your fingers, the stream curling between them.

"Careful." He murmured, catching your wrist before you could burn yourself. His thumb brushed against the delicate skin of your inner wrist - just ince - before releasing you. "It's hotter than it looks."

You blew on the chickpea pancake before taking a bite, the flavours exploding - wood-fired crust, sea salt, rosemary. Your eyes fluttered shut. "Oh my god."

Charles lips curved as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "Told you."

Mathieu appeared with two mismatched wine glasses and a carafe of something deep ruby. "The '98 Bandol," he said pouring without asking. "Charles's favorite when he's celebrating."

You asked, accepting the glass. "And what are we celebrating."

Charles knee bumped yours under the table. "You not running screaming when i took you to a back alley."

Not long after bringing the appetizer, Mathieu comes back with two delicious plates, a tender octopus confit, handmade ravioli oozing sage butter. Charles plate looked at appetizing as yours, it's like he knew that the two of you would share them.

"I used to keep a notebook for every driver's helmet design," You admitted, swirling your wine. "Had this whole rating system. Schumacher's 2000 design? Perfect ten. Villeuve's 1997? A travesty."

Charles nearly chocked. "You rated helmets?"

"Still do." You tilted your head, studying him. "Yours is a solid eight."

"Eight?" He pressed his hand on his chest in mock outrage. "The prancing horse? The Monegasque colors? The -"

"Too busy," you interrupted, stealing a bite of his raviolli. "Sometimes less is more, Leclerc."

He caught your wrist as you pulled back, his thumb tracing the pulse point. "Next season's design," he said quietly. "You'll help me with it."

It wasn't a question.

The tiramisu arrived, dusted with cocoa powder still trembling from the impact. Charles pushed it towards you. "You first."

The first spoonful was pure bliss - espresso-soaked ladyfingers, mascarpone so light it dissolved on yout tongue. You moaned without thinking.

Charles fork clattered against his plate. When you looked up, his eyes were dark, fixed on your mouth, "You're killing me." he muttered.

You dragged your spoon through the dessert slowly deliberately. "Problem?"

"Yeah." His voice dropped an octave. "Big fucking problem."

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The warm Mediterranean night wrapped around them like silk as the two of you left the restaurant, Charles fingers laced loosely with yours. The harbor lights danced on the black water, painting liquid gold across the waves.

"This way." Charles murmured, tugging you gently down a narrow alleyway away from the main streets. The cobblestones glowed under the antique iron lamps, their footsteps echoing between centuries-old buildings.

"Taking the scenic route?" You teased, your shoulder brushing his arm.

Charles smirked, his thumb tracing absent circles on the back of your hand. "Avoiding paparazzi. And...maybe showing you my favorite view."

The alley opened suddenly into a hidden terrace overlooking the entire bay. The city spilled down the cliffs like scattered diamonds, the yachts bobbing like toys in the distance. Charles leaned against the stone railing, pulling you gently in front of him, his chest warm against your breath.

"I come here when the world gets too loud." He admitted, his breath stirring your hair at the temple. His arms circled your waist, loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You didn't.

You leaned back into him, watching the moonlight carve silver paths across the water. "It's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as-" He cut himself off with a quiet laugh, his nose brushing your ear. "That sounded better in my head."

You turned into his arms, your faces suddenly inches apart. "Smooth, Leclerc."

"I'm a driver, not a poet." His gaze dropped on your lips. "Though right now i'm thinking of several very creative-"

You silenced him with a finger on his mouth. "Show me the way home, hotshot."

Charles caught your finger between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp before releasing it with a grin. "Your funeral."

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The hotel hallway was too bright, too quiet after the intimacy of the night. You fumbled with the keycard, paintfully aware of Charles leaning against the wall beside the door, watching you with dark eyes.

"So," You said, the word hanging between the two of you.

"So," he echoed, pushing off the wall to stand before you. The dim lighting caught the stubble along his jaw, the faint scar above his eyebrow.

The keycard slipped from your fingers

Charles caught it before it hit the floor, his other hand coming to rest against the door beside your head. "Nervous."

"No," you lied, your breath coming faster as he stepped closer. His cologne wrapped around you - salt and something woodsy, with the faintest hint of wine.

"Liar." His nose brushed against yours, your lips a breath apart. "Tell me to leave."

Your hands found his waist, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his shirt. "Make me."

Charles made a low sound in his throat before closing the distance.

The first kiss was soft - testing, questioning. The second wasn't.

His hands cradled your jaw as he backed you against the door, his body pressing yours into the wood. You gasped as his teeth caught your lower lip, your fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. The keycard dug into your palm where it was trapped between the two of you, forgotten.

"Charles-"

"Tell me to stop," he murmured againsy your mouth, though his hands were already sliding down to grip your thighs.

You arched into him instead, your nails scraping through his hair. "Never."

The elevator dinged down the hall.

Charles pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard. "Fuck," he whispered, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip.

You stole one last kiss before twisting the keycard from his grip. "Goodnight, Charles."

You slipped inside before any of you could change your mind, leaning against the closed door as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. Outside, you heard Charles exhale sharply before his footsteps retreated down the hall.

Your phone buzzed into you clutch

| Char❤️ Karting. Tomorrow. Wear something you can lose.

You bit your still-tingling lips as you typed the reply. "Only if you're ready to lose too."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The private karting track nestled in the hills above Monaco smelled of scorched runber and adrenaline. You stepped out of Charles black Ferrari 812 in the golden afternoon light, squinting at the row of gleaming karts line up like racehorses at the starting gate.

"You own this place?" Your fingers tightened around the strap of your duffel bag as you took in the grandstand, the timing towers, the Ferrari-red barriers lining every corner.

Charles emerged from the driver's side, his aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes but not only his smirk. "Not own. Let's say...the manager owes me favors." He tossed you a helmet - custom-painted in matte black with a single prancing horse on the side. "You'll need this."

The helmet was lighter thank you expected. "This is carbon fiber.

"And you're avoiding the question." He stepped closer to you, his shadow falling across you. "Scared?"

You met his gaze evenly. "I grew up racing motorcross in the Australian outback. Your little go-karts don't scare me, Leclerc."

Charles grin turned funeral. "We'll see about that."

The engines screamed to life beneath them, a chorus of mechanical wasps buzzing in the pit lane. Charles had changed into a tight black racing suit, the fabric staining across his shoulders as he adjusted his gloves.

"Rules," he shouted over the noise. "First go ten laps. No bumping. No crying when you lose."

You yanked your hair into a hasty ponytail before sliding your helmet on. "Winner gets bragging rights and picks dinner."

Charles eyes darkened before his visor. "Deal."

The starting lights flashed red...red...green.

Your kart rocketed forward, the acceleration slamming your back into the seat. The wheel vibrated violently in your hands as you took the first corner flat-out, your knee brushing the concrete barrier. Charles pulled alongside at the hairpin, their wheels inches apart as you dove into the turn.

"Inside line." His voice crackled through you helmet comms.

"Eat my dust!" You braked late, forcing him wide.

By lap three, sweat trickled down your spine. Charles was relentless, drafting you on the straights, his front wheels kissing your rear bumper through the chicanes. Every time you glanced in your mirrors, there he was, his driving mirror-perfect and infuriatingly patient.

On lap seven, he made his move.

You took the sweeping right-hander too wide, just half a meter, and Charles pounced like a shark scenting blood. His kart slipped up the inside, the wheels interlocking for heart-stopping second before he pulled ahead.

"Merde!" You slammed your fist on the wheel.

Charles laugh echoed through your headset. "Told you i'd destroy you."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You yanked off your helmet, your hair sticking on your neck in damp curls. "You cheated."

Charles was already unbuckling his racing suit, the top half tied around his waist, leaving only a sweat-darkened white t-shirt clinging to his chest. "How exactly?"

"You-" You gestured wildly. "You distracted me!"

"By being better?" He stepped closer, the scent of gasoline and warm wrapping around you. "Admit it. You liked watching me win."

Your pulse pounded in your ears. "I liked watching you sweat."

Charles gaze dropped in your mouth. "I'm sweating now."

The pit crew suddenly found something very interesting to do on the other side of the garage.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The locker room was all white tile and stream, the air thick with the scent of citrus body wash. You stood under the scalding spray, willing your racing heartbeat to slow.

The curtain rattled.

"Occupied!"

"Relax, it's me." Charles' voice, closer than expected.

You whipped around to find him leaning against the sinkoutside your stall, his reflection blurred in the fogged mirror. His shirt was off now, his torso a masterpiece of leaned muscle.

"You lost," he reminded you, tapping the tile wall with one knuckle. "Winner picks dinner, remember?"

Water suiced down your back as you glared through the mist?. "And?"

Charles smile was pure sin. "I'm starving."

The curtain yanked open.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Charles killed the Ferrari's engine, leaving on the crash of waves against the cliffs below. The leather seats creaked as he turned to you, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel.

"Come with me." His voice was oddly strained.

He led you to the edge of the lookout, where the wind whipped at your clothes. The sun hung low over the Mediterranean, painting his profile in molten gold. When he dropped to one knee, your breath caught-

"Wait!" Charles fumbled with his pocket, producing a small black box. "Before you panic - not that kind of question."

Inside lay a silver key, it's teeth grinting.

"I practiced this," he admitted, running a hand through his windswept hair. "Pierre made me do it twelve times last night. Still fucking it up."

You laughed for a moment before regaining your posture as you then focused on him.

"I don't share," Charles continued, his thumb brushing your knuckles. "Not my toothbrush, not my Playstation, certainly not my home. But i want you there. Waking up to your hair in my face, your terrible coffee mugs..." His voice cracked "So will you? Be mine officially?"

The key warmed in your palm. Somewhere below, a speedboat carved white lines into the blue.

"Only if you swear Pierre won't be best man at our wedding." you whispered.

Charles laughter echoed off the cliffs as he kissed you, his hands cradlling your face like you were the only solid thing in a spinning world. "Good because I already told Ferrari you're coming to Silverstone."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Ferrari garage froze when you stepped inside to be supporting your now boyfriend at the practice sessions.

Mechanics paused mid-wrench. Engineers' tablets dimmed. Carlos Sainz eyebrows dissapeared under his helmet.

"Putain," someone muttered.

You clutched your "Guest of Charles Leclerc" pass like a fineline. The scent of burnt carbon fiber and warm electronics wrapped around you as you edged past the gleaming car parts.

Then - chaos.

Charles emerged from the driver's room, his fireproofs unzipped to the waist, revealing a sweat-darkened Ferrari t-shirt. His eyes lit up.

"You came." He closed the distance in three strides, ignoring the team's stares to press a kiss to your temple - just as a photographer raised his lens.

Flashbulbs erupted.

Charles, of course, was oblivious - too busy shoving ice cream cones into your hands between sessions.

"You're insufferable," you hissed as the cameras clicked outside the motorhome.

He licked a stray drop of chocolate off your wrist. "You love it."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

| INSTAGRAM POST - JUL 4th

F1Gossip

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F1Gossip Charles Leclerc brings mystery woman into Ferrari garage (PS: it's that journalist)

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user1 Ferrari strategists when they realize Charles new performance coach is actually his girlfriend

user2 she's so pretty

user3 she's such a clout chaser. charles could do so much better

user4 THE SAME JOURNALIST

user5 he's so down bad for her

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The media scrum surged as Charles entered, still damn with champagne. He ignored Sky Sports microphone, making a beeline for-

"Question for TrackSide Media," he announced, grinning at your stunned expression.

Reporters swarmed.

"How does it feel," Charles continued "to be my good luck charm?"

The room lost it. Flashbulbs popped like fireworks.

Your cheeks burned. "I think you did the driving, Leclerc."

"Nah." He tugged you closer, his lips brushing your ear as cameras exploded. "This one was all you."

The clip hit 10M views before the two of you even left the circuit.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You pressed Charles against the bedroom door, your fingers tangled in his still-damp hair. "My good luck charm?"

"Oui." He nipped at your jaw. "Got a problem with that?"

You bit his earlobe, hard. "Only if you ever call me that in public again."

Charles laughed, flipping both of you so your back hit the door. "No promises."

His mouth found yours, tasting the champagne and victory. Somewhere outside, the team cheered for their golden boy's victory.

© DREAMYDRIFTS — do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[aphrostiel]

Red Prince

Special drawing for Charles this weekend, I loved the helmet so much I had to draw it. As always, all my best wishes to him. ♥

[cutielando]

miss possessive | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which you don't even realize how possessive you can get over your handsome boyfriend

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: charles leclerc x jealous!reader

my masterlist

You weren’t jealous.

You weren’t.

It was just an observation, that’s all.

You sat at a table inside the Ferrari motorhome, absentmindedly stirring the ice in your drink with a straw as your eyes locked onto her.

Léa Bisset. The journalist.

The one who always seemed to hover around Charles just a little too much whenever she was in the paddock.

She was standing close—too close—to Charles, laughing at something he’d said. You rolled your eyes, watching as she tilted her head back dramatically, placing a hand on his forearm as she laughed.

God. Did she have to touch him?

You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to focus on literally anything else, but Pierre’s knowing chuckle from across the table made your annoyance spike.

“You’re glaring” Pierre pointed out, sipping his espresso like this was his favorite form of entertainment.

“I am not” you denied, not taking your eyes off of Charles and her.

“You are,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And you’re jealous.”

You scoffed, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“I am not jealous, Pierre”

He smirked. “Then why do you look like you’re about to go over there and tackle Léa to the ground?”

“I just don’t like her,” you muttered, turning back to your drink. “She’s always acting like Charles belongs to her.”

Pierre hummed, clearly unconvinced.

“You do realize Charles loves you, right? He barely notices her.”

“He’s noticing her now, isn't he?” you asked, clicking your tongue as you motioned towards where your boyfriend was still talking to that complete and total bitch.

Pierre exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

“You should go over there. Mark your territory" he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes at his choice of words, but the idea of interrupting their little moment was suddenly too tempting to resist.

It was not in your nature to be acting like this, getting jealous over women talking to Charles, but she was pushing your buttons more than you cared to admit and more than any other female that had ever approached your boyfriend.

You stood abruptly, smoothing out your Ferrari team shirt with Charles' last name and number on your back, before striding across the room. Pierre let out a low whistle behind you, but you ignored him, not wanting to let anything change your mind from what you were about to do.

Charles looked up just as you reached them, his face instantly softening and his lips breaking out into a wide smile.

“Amour,” he greeted, but you didn’t give him time to say anything else.

With deliberate ease, you slid an arm around his waist, pressing yourself against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Miss me?” you asked sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes.

Charles’ lips twitched like he was trying not to smile, already having picked up on what you were trying to do.

“Of course.”

Léa raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly.

“We were just talking about the race,” she said, forcing a polite smile.

"That's nice, but now I'm going to have to steal my boyfriend away, sorry" you said, planting a very fake smile on your face as you glared at her.

Charles didn't say anything, trying his best not to start laughing at the whole situation.

"I think Charles can decide for himself, don't you?" she said, hoping that Charles would decide to talk to her more instead of following you, his girlfriend.

You hummed, glaring at her even more threateningly.

“Meh, that depends. Charles, didn’t you say you wanted to grab some food before your meetings? We kinda have to get going if you want to make it in time” you said, turning your attention to him.

"Right, yeah" he said, coughing and clearing his throat.

“Let’s go,” you said before she could say anything, you pulled him gently by the waist. “It was nice seeing you, Léa.”

You didn’t wait for a reply before walking off, Charles stumbling slightly as he let you drag him away.

Once you were out of earshot, Charles finally broke the silence, amusement laced in his voice.

“Mon amour,” he started, “was that necessary?”

You frowned, turning your attention to him.

“What?”

He stopped walking, gently tugging you back so you faced him. His green eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter.

“You were jealous, weren't you?” Charles asked, his voice laced with an undertone of teasing.

“I was not jealous” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

He raised an eyebrow, seeing past your flimsy attempts.

“You basically dragged me away from a conversation” he deadpanned.

“She was all over you, Charles,” you said, crossing your arms. “Touching your arm, laughing like you’re the funniest person alive-”

“I am pretty funny.”

You shot him a glare, not finding the situation funny in the slightest.

“Charles" you said, your voice dead serious.

He chuckled, hands finding your waist as he pulled you close.

“Chérie, I didn’t even notice. I was just being polite” he explained, his voice sporting a lot of understanding and patience.

This was far from the first time that he had had to calm you down from a jealousy fit, but he found it cute rather than annoying.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weaken and your anger slowly leaving your body.

“I just— I don’t like the way she looks at you” you confessed, your voice now soft and quiet.

Charles’ expression softened. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re the only one I want, you know that”

You exhaled, tension finally easing from your shoulders.

“I do know that, but I just can't help the way I feel whenever I see a woman who thinks they can flirt with you when I'm there, acting like they don't know who I am” you explained.

Charles sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, understanding your point of view.

"I get it, but you don't have to worry about any of them. It's part of my job to be polite to everyone, but that doesn't mean that I want any of them. You're the only one I want, and nothing is going to change that" he said, his voice soft.

You looked up into his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and reassurance in them.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall against his chest, feeling his lips press a kiss against the crown of your head.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, smirking.

“But I must say… you’re very cute when you’re jealous” he said, his voice amused.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“I hate you” you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He laughed, kissing the top of your head.

“No, you don’t” he said.

You grumbled something incoherent against his shirt, making him laugh harder.

“I think I like this side of you,” he teased. “Miss possessive”

You smacked his arm, but he just grinned, pulling you even closer.

And, despite yourself, you smiled too.

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