luvsferrariss

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ a love between letters and secrets - OO3

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Where Y/N and Han Seo-Jun study together for the first time.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Han Seo-Jun x Female Reader.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Bullying, I think that’s all for this chapter.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: I hope you like it because I’m not sure if I do :( Anyway, just a heads-up, English is not my first language, sorry! Love you all 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Series Masterlist here! 🤍

The sound of pencils sliding across the paper was the only thing breaking the silence in the school library. You liked that environment. The scent of books, the soft light coming through the tall windows, and the quiet whispers of students studying created a peaceful refuge, far from the chaos of school.

You had arrived early that day, determined to make the most of every minute before your demanding routine consumed you again. The night before, after dinner at your aunt and uncle’s house, you spent hours reviewing your notes, trying to organize yourself to handle everything—your studies, taking care of your cousins, and now, tutoring Han Seo Jun.

Your eyes moved across the words in your book when Joo Kyung approached, smiling. She sat in front of you without hesitation, resting her elbows on the table and observing you intently.

“You’re really beautiful, Y/N. Has anyone ever told you that?” she said suddenly, without hesitation.

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected comment.

“Ah… thank you,” you murmured, looking away to the books, feeling embarrassed.

“Seriously!” Joo Kyung insisted, tilting her head. “You have such a delicate look. Sometimes I wonder why you don’t dress up more…”

You hesitated for a moment, looking down at your outfit—a simple uniform blouse with a small bow and a plain skirt—then shrugged. You had never really cared much about that sort of thing. Your daily life was so busy that thinking about makeup, clothes, or hairstyles seemed like a distant luxury. Besides, dressing up wouldn’t change the fact that some people at school simply enjoyed bothering you.

Joo Kyung noticed your hesitation and let out a soft sigh.

“You should look at yourself in the mirror more,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m sure you’d see what I see. I wish I were like you.”

“But you’re beautiful! What are you talking about?” you said, now with a gentle smile. The girl hesitated for a moment.

“Well, I’m going to meet the girls. See you later!”

Y/N watched her leave, finding it strange how she suddenly went quiet. You quickly shook your head and returned to your studies, pushing those words aside.

When class ended, the hallway was packed with students in a hurry to leave. You clutched your books tightly against your chest to avoid dropping them, walking with your head down to go unnoticed.

But then, muffled laughter made your shoulders tense, and you didn’t need to look to know who was approaching. Three girls—the same as always—walked toward you, their gazes sharp like blades.

Your stomach twisted. You took a deep breath, trying to stay strong. This time, however, you wouldn’t just stand there and wait.

Before they could corner you, you quickly changed direction, blending into the crowd of students. Your steps were fast but discreet enough not to draw attention. When you finally reached the school gate without anyone following you, you let out a relieved sigh.

You knew this didn’t mean they were giving up. But at least for today, you were safe, and there wouldn’t be any new bruises on your body.

Then, you started walking to your cousins’ school, which wasn’t too far away. You put on your headphones and continued your way with a random song from your playlist.

The walk to your cousins’ school was peaceful. The sun was already beginning to set on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange. When you arrived, the little ones were walking out through the gates, chatting excitedly. You took off your headphones and put them in your backpack, crossing your arms with a smile on your face.

As soon as they saw you, they grinned and ran toward you, jumping with joy.

“Y/N!” the youngest exclaimed, hugging you.

It was impossible not to smile. Kneeling down to adjust her backpack, you placed a kiss on both of their foreheads.

The older one hugged you quickly and smiled at your affectionate gesture.

“How was your day?” you asked, happy to hear about their school day.

They eagerly began telling you about school, their voices full of excitement. You listened attentively as you walked them home, feeling lighter by their side, as if the world was peaceful and all your worries had faded away.

When you arrived at your uncle and aunt’s house, your aunt greeted you with a warm smile.

“Thank you for picking them up, sweetheart. Would you like to come in?” Laurel asked as she hugged you, but you shook your head.

“I can’t, Auntie. But I’d love to! I have to go to the library today,” you replied simply, and your aunt raised an eyebrow, curious.

“To study more?”

“I’m helping a classmate, remember? I told you all about it yesterday,” you said, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder.

“Right, I forgot.” Your aunt smiled. “Well, then, good luck with your studies, sweetheart. Go before you’re late, and thank you again!” She gave you another hug and a kiss on the cheek. You smiled and said goodbye to her.

You walked back the same way toward the library, your heart feeling at ease after seeing your cousins happy.

Upon entering the library, you found Han Seo Jun sitting sloppily, a book open in front of him. But by the way he was twirling his pencil between his fingers and staring at the page with boredom, it was clear he wasn’t really reading—just lost in thought.

When he saw you, he raised his eyebrows.

“You took forever,” he commented, closing the book with a thud. You smiled and set your backpack down beside you.

“Hello to you too.” You sat next to him and took out your study materials. “I had to pick up my cousins, remember?” you answered simply, not giving it much attention this time.

Seo Jun looked at you for a moment, recalling that you had told him about it the day before.

“Right… So, where do we start?” he asked, tossing his pencil onto the table and stretching.

You flipped through your notebook until you found the topic of the day.

“Let’s start with history.”

He let out a heavy sigh, looking at you with a bored expression.

“Ugh, how annoying…”

You lifted your eyes, your gaze kind. You had a lot of patience and wouldn’t get easily frustrated with Han Seo Jun’s complaints.

“Read this part. Let’s see if you understand anything.”

He groaned but picked up the book and started reading. The study session was just beginning.

( . . . )

The library was silent except for the occasional sound of pages turning. Han Seo Jun held the history book with an obviously bored expression while you reviewed your notes.

“Alright, let’s test what you’ve learned,” you said, looking up at him with a smile. You enjoyed studying.

Seo Jun clicked his tongue, leaning back in his chair.

“Is this going to be like a quiz?” he asked before yawning.

“Exactly! So, tell me…” You looked closely at your notes before crossing your arms. “Which treaty marked the end of the Japanese occupation in Korea?”

Seo Jun frowned, thinking.

“Easy. The Treaty of… um… wait, I know this.”

You remained silent, patiently waiting, hoping he’d get it right.

“The Treaty of… Versailles?” he answered hesitantly. You were… surprised?

You blinked slowly before responding… This was going to be a lot of work.

“Seo Jun…” you said calmly, looking at him and then at your notes.

“What? It was an important treaty!” he defended himself, raising his hands in surrender.

“Yes, it was. But it happened after World War I and has nothing to do with Korea,” you explained simply, noticing how striking his eyes were.

You quickly blinked, pushing that silly thought away before it spread.

“Oh…” Seo Jun scratched his neck, embarrassed. “Okay, then what’s the answer?”

“The Treaty of San Francisco, signed in 1951 and in effect since 1952. It formally ended Japan’s occupation and established Korea’s full independence,” you explained as you leaned slightly closer to show him in the book.

Seo Jun watched you instead of looking at the book. But then he quickly focused again, frowning.

“Ah, yeah… That was my second option,” he said casually.

“Sure it was,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Seo Jun chuckled, grabbing his pencil to write down the correct answer.

“Alright, next question. This time, I’ll get it right.”

( . . . )

After a long history session, you decided to change the subject to something more exact.

“Alright, now let’s move on to math,” you said, pulling out a dark blue textbook from your backpack. You also grabbed another notebook—the one you used for math.

Seo Jun groaned and looked at you with disgust.

“I preferred history…” Seo Jun said bluntly, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You got most of the basic questions wrong, Han Seo Jun!” you shot back, flipping through the pages. “Let’s see if you do any better here.”

He crossed his arms, defiant.

“Go ahead, hit me with it, professor.”

You studied the page for a moment and then read aloud:

“If a train leaves Seoul at 8 AM at a speed of 80 km/h, and another train leaves Busan at 9 AM at a speed of 100 km/h, at what point will they meet?”

Seo Jun stared at you for a long moment, blinking slowly, trying to process what you had just said.

“Wait… A train?”

“Yes.” Your smile was calm. Good thing you had patience.

“Speed?”

“Yes.”

“Is this a trick question?”

You just shook your head.

“Seo Jun, it’s a uniform motion problem. You just need to calculate the time until they meet,” you said, showing him the math problem.

Han Seo Jun looked at you in horror, then at the problem again, then back at you. You chuckled softly at his reaction. Maybe math wasn’t the best choice.

Then he picked up his pencil and started scribbling in the notebook, muttering random numbers.

“Hm… Alright, I think I got it.”

You quickly looked at him with hope.

“So, what’s the answer?”

He smiled confidently.

“The trains never meet because one of them took a detour to get coffee.”

You stared at Seo Jun, unable to believe what you just heard, not even knowing how to respond.

“You’re joking, right?” you said, trying to hold back a laugh. You had to be serious and help him, not laugh. This was a study session, but your classmate wasn’t making it easy.

Seo Jun laughed loudly, throwing his head back.

“This kind of question makes no sense! Who cares when two trains are going to meet?”

You took a deep breath, staying calm, and looked at him—only to find him already looking at you.

“Seo Jun… If you keep getting it wrong on purpose, you’ll never learn.” Your words made him roll his eyes. “Seriously, I believe in you. I know this is our first study session, but you need to put in the effort, okay?”

He sighed, picking up his pencil again.

“Alright, alright… Explain it to me again.”

Your words had really reached him—someone calm and patient, genuinely wanting to help him.

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. 📔 ɞ a love between letters and secrets - masterlist

A LOVE BETWEEN LETTERS AND SECRETS SYNOPSIS :

⋆౨ৎ˚ Y/N has always lived surrounded by secrets. Raised by her aunt and uncle as if they were her real parents, she never knew her father, and her mother—a cold and distant woman—refuses to talk about him. While balancing school life and taking care of her younger cousins, Y/N faces daily bullying and her mother’s indifference, finding comfort only in her aunt and uncle and in her dream of becoming a doctor.

⋆౨ৎ˚ Everything changes when Han Seo Jun, a rebellious and popular boy, enters her life in need of academic help. What starts as simple tutoring turns into a fake relationship, planned by him to make his crush jealous. But as time passes, Seo Jun realizes that Y/N is much more than he expected, and unexpected feelings begin to emerge.

⋆౨ৎ˚ Meanwhile, Y/N starts receiving anonymous letters and discovers that her past hides an even bigger secret.

୭ 💌 ˚. ᵎᵎ. - one ;

୭ 💌 ˚. ᵎᵎ. - two ;

୭ 💌 ˚. ᵎᵎ. - three ;

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ a love between letters and secrets - OO2

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Where Han Seo-Jun goes after Y/n to ask when they can start studying.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Han Seo-Jun x Female Reader.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Bullying, mention of slight anxiety and distress, slightly shy reader. Mentions of family issues and blood. Sorry if I forget anything, let me know if I do!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: Sorry for taking so long to post the second part 😭 I was going to post three chapters together, but I had a problem with my phone. I promise I’ll post the next ones tomorrow or the day after! I hope you’re all enjoying it, okay? As I always say, English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Series Masterlist here! 🤍

The schoolyard was quiet at that moment, with only a few students scattered across the benches and under the tree’s shadows. The gentle breeze swayed the branches, and you took advantage of the rare moment of silence to review your schedule. After the chaos of that morning, you wanted to make sure everything was organized.

You spun the pen between your fingers while looking at the day’s notes, checking the times and appointments. You had written down the topics you needed to study for the entrance exam when a small piece of paper, which you had placed earlier, fell out of your agenda. The reminder made you smile: “Pick up the cousins from school at 5 PM.” You loved taking care of them, even though it took up most of your time after school. But today, you would just pick them up, as your aunt had been getting home early from work for the past two days.

“Hey, nerd.” You hear a male voice call you. You blink a few times, slowly raising your head. In front of you, with his hands in his uniform jacket pockets, was Han Seo-Jun, the one you decided to help. The boy’s gaze carried a mix of boredom and confidence, which made him well-known at school.

“Han Seo-Jun?” You frowned, surprised. You didn’t expect him to come talk to you so soon.

Maybe he really does need help! You thought to yourself.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a crooked smile.

“Oh? So you know my name?” Seo-Jun asked, smugly, and you felt a bit embarrassed, looking away and returning to your agenda.

“Of course I know. We’re in the same class.” You spoke simply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It was a gesture you made when you were nervous.

Seo-Jun chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Alright, fair enough. But I came because I heard you offered to help me study.” You nodded, putting the pen aside.

“Yes, I talked to the teacher. I can help you, if you want.”

He nonchalantly sat on the bench next to you, resting his arms on the backrest and tilting his head back.

“Help isn’t exactly the right word. Basically, my mom wants me to stop being a lost cause.” Seo-Jun spoke plainly, making you furrow your brow.

“You’re not a lost cause.”

Seo-Jun looked at you sideways, clearly amused by your gentle nature.

“You talk like you know me.” You smiled slightly and shrugged.

“I don’t think anyone is a lost cause if they truly want to try.” Your voice was calm and sweet. Seo-Jun let out a snorted laugh and crossed his arms.

“You’re one of those people who believes in other people’s potential, huh?”

You just smiled slightly, returning to your agenda.

“Let’s see when we can start…” you murmured to yourself, running your fingers across the notes you had made earlier.

Seo-Jun, on the other hand, wasn’t remotely interested in dates and times. He simply observed how you slightly furrowed your brow while reading, how you gently bit your lower lip when thinking, and how your neat handwriting filled each page of the agenda with precision.

“Definitely never noticed her before.” Seo-Jun thought as he looked at you beside him.

The thought passed through his mind almost automatically. Maybe because you were always too discreet, or maybe because he never bothered to look. But now, sitting next to you, he noticed small details he had previously ignored.

“Here!” You finally lifted your gaze and looked at Han Seo-Jun. Seo-Jun blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow!” You repeated with a small smile. “I have to pick up my cousins from school today and tomorrow, so tomorrow after class is the best day to start, okay?”

He stared at you for a moment.

“You take care of your cousins?” Han Seo-Jun asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded, putting the pen inside the agenda.

“Yes, sometimes my uncles work late, so I help with the kids whenever I can. But today and tomorrow, they’ll be home earlier, so it will be easy since I just have to pick them up from school.”

Seo-Jun blinked a few times, clearly surprised.

“You really do everything, huh?” The boy with brown hair spoke, admiring your determination. You smiled, but a slight blush appeared on your cheeks.

“It’s not everything. I just like to help where I can.”

He let out a low whistle and rested his chin on his hand.

“So, I have to compete for your time with a bunch of kids?”

You chuckled softly.

“If you want to think of it that way…”

Seo-Jun shrugged, still analyzing you.

“Well, since the number one teacher at the school decided we’re starting tomorrow, I’m not going to argue.” Seo-Jun said, and you smiled and closed your agenda, satisfied.

“Great. We’ll meet in the library after class.”

Seo-Jun watched you for a few more seconds before getting up.

“Library, huh? I knew you’d pick a boring place.”

“It’s a good environment to study.”

“If you say so…”

He turned to leave, but then stopped halfway and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n.”

You lifted your gaze.

“Hmm?”

He flashed a teasing smile.

“Are you always this much of a goody-goody?”

You blinked, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Organized agenda, good grades, takes care of the cousins, private tutor… You must be your family’s pride.”

For a moment, you felt a tightness in your chest. Your mother never said it directly, but you knew her approval depended on your achievements. “Family pride” wasn’t a choice, it was an obligation.

But you forced a small smile and looked away.

“I just do what needs to be done.”

Seo-Jun noticed something different in your expression but didn’t press it.

“Alright. See you tomorrow, teacher.”

He winked at you and walked off, whistling some random tune.

Y/n stayed there for a while, staring at the pages of her agenda without really seeing them.

For some reason, that conversation made her feel something different.

And she couldn’t explain why.

( . . . )

The day seemed to be going well, until, when leaving the room, you felt a sharp tug on your arm. Three girls quickly surrounded you, preventing you from escaping.

“You think you can just walk around like you’re better than everyone else, huh?” One of them said with a cruel smile.

Y/n furrowed her brow. “What? I… I don’t think that at all.”

“Of course, you do.” Another girl approached, grabbing your backpack and opening it without permission.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” You said, trying to get closer, but one of the girls pushed you away with force.

“Looking for something interesting…” They rummaged through your things until they found your wallet. “Oh, look. Seems like you brought money today.”

You felt a knot in your stomach when one of the girls took all the money you had. It wasn’t a small amount — it was a lot, and you needed it.

“Please… Give it back.” Your voice came out quiet and trembling.

“Ah, please what?” The leader of the group mocked. “You should thank us for not doing something worse, you idiot.”

Before you could react, one of them pushed you hard. You fell to the ground but quickly got back up, feeling a sting in your knee.

They laughed, and when you looked, one of them was filming the whole time.

You didn’t say anything. You just turned, grabbed your backpack, and ran.

Your heart was racing, but not from exhaustion. It was the humiliation, the helplessness, the anger from not being able to defend yourself. When you realized you were alone, you stopped to catch your breath.

But then, you got a shock.

Han Seo-Jun was there, leaning against his bike, watching you.

He squinted his eyes, clearly noticing something was wrong.

“What happened to you, mysterious girl?” His voice was low.

You ran, feeling blood trickle down your knee. Thankfully, no one saw. Han Seo-Jun watched you disappear into the crowd but didn’t notice your knee. He shrugged as soon as you vanished from his sight.

Upset and frustrated by what happened, you couldn’t deny the anxiety rising in your chest, but you had to pretend everything was fine.

You ran back to school. Your cousins had been waiting for a few minutes, and you felt terrible for being late. You quickly grabbed them and headed to your uncles’ house.

( . . . )

After what had happened, all you needed was to go home and rest for a while, and you did that but soon turned to studying instead of going to pick up your cousins; you went straight home. Your backpack was full of books and notes, and all you wanted was to study without interruptions. The day had been exhausting, but you couldn’t afford to skip studying just because some girls were mean to you.

That’s what you thought, but were you right?

When you got to your room, you changed into comfortable clothes, tied your hair in a loose bun, and sat at your desk. The silence of the house was almost complete, except for the sound of pages turning and the pencil tip scratching the paper. Time passed quickly as you reviewed subjects and organized your notes. When you realized, it was already past 9 PM.

Your mom wasn’t home again. She traveled so much for work or stayed in the office that you barely saw her three times a month, if that.

Then your phone vibrated.

Aunt Laurel: “Y/n, is your mom still traveling? Why don’t you come over for dinner? We made your favorite food.”

Your heart warmed with the message. Even after a tiring day, being with your uncles was always comforting. They were your real family, the only people who truly cared about you.

You grabbed a light jacket and left the house. Your mom wasn’t home again. When you arrived, the door was already open, and the familiar smells of homemade food made you smile.

“Y/n!” Aunt Laurel opened her arms and pulled you into a warm hug. “I was waiting for you!”

“Hi, Aunt.” You smiled weakly and walked in, feeling the welcoming atmosphere of the house. Your cousins ran over to hug you, and soon you were all sitting at the table, laughing and chatting. You finally distracted your mind and forgot about the earlier incident.

During dinner, you told them how you’d start helping a classmate study, and your uncles supported the idea.

“You’re always so helpful.” Uncle Junho commented proudly.

“Isn’t she? Our little girl has grown up!” Aunt Laurel said, pretending to wipe away fake tears. The intention was good, but it hurt your heart to know you didn’t have present parents and didn’t even know who your father was.

But what mattered was that you had them — your uncles and your cousins.

“You know, I made a friend too, her name is Joo Kyung.” You said after eating some rice.

Your uncles exchanged a brief look but smiled immediately afterward.

“Y/n, that’s amazing!” Aunt Laurel said, happy for your achievement. She knew how difficult it was for you to make friends. Even though you communicated well, the girls had never been interested in you, and that had hurt you for a long time until you learned to deal with it.

But now you had a real friend.

[luvsferrariss]

hiii!! when are you posting the next part to the han seojun fics? absolutely love your account's aesthetic btw!!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ¡ answer ɞ

Hi my angel!! 🤍

thank you so much, I'm happy with your comment!

So, I'll probably post tomorrow or Wednesday, I'm writing three chapters so I want to post all three together, I'll post them soon! I hope you're enjoying it. <3

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ of shadows and sins - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Y/n was handpicked by their boss to help the recruiter find new players. However, it was obvious that the man wouldn’t like the girl assisting him, constantly belittling her and mentioning how weak and unqualified she was for the job. But in reality, he knew about her influence and was afraid of being replaced.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ The Salesman x Female Reader (British)

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Typical Squid Game elements—blood, weapons, death, etc. Age gap: the reader is between 24-25 years old, while the recruiter is 40. Some angst and feelings of loneliness. The reader lives in Korea but is not Korean; she is British.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Note: Hi loves! I’m making a short series about the salesman. I hope you all like it! English isn’t my first language, so there may be mistakes—sorry about that!

next part here ! 🤍

You sighed as you watched your coworker fail once again. The man he was trying to talk to didn’t care at all and walked right past him. You just sighed, rolled your eyes, and crossed your arms, leaning against the metro wall near the stairs.

The recruiter began walking in your direction with his chin held high, a proud—or perhaps wounded—expression on his face, and you laughed at his frustration.

“What happened, Mr. ‘I-can-do-everything’?” you teased. He simply walked past you, heading up the station stairs.

“Shut up,” he muttered, and you chuckled, following behind.

“Did you manage to do anything at all?” he asked as soon as he noticed you catching up on the stairs.

“While you wasted time talking to one man, I got four. All of them on the verge of bankruptcy—desperation was almost funny, I nearly felt bad for them.” You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your beige trench coat. “With their financial struggles and my pretty face, did you really think they wouldn’t accept?” You smirked, stopping in front of him and framing your face with your hands as if showing off.

He simply walked past you, bumping your shoulder.

“You’re so full of yourself, seriously… What’s even fun about your game? No one actually likes Gonggi that much,” he scoffed.

You just shrugged. “That’s what I was told to do. And your job isn’t that exciting either, right? At least mine is getting results. Yours, on the other hand…” You glanced up at the sky as you stepped out of the train station—it was already nighttime.

“Can you shut up for a single minute? I already have to deal with you all the time. For the love of—just stop talking, girl,” he snapped.

You simply looked at him, already used to his sudden outbursts.

“Oh, baby, don’t be sad. Tomorrow will be your day, and you’ll manage to recruit some people. Besides, aren’t you the boss’s impeccable, invaluable favorite recruiter?” You pouted playfully, stopping in front of him again, this time by your car. You cupped his face in your hands, only for him to push them away and roll his eyes.

“I’m not arguing with a brat… Why don’t you just go back to your family?” he said, setting his black suitcase down and rubbing his chin. “Oh, right. I forgot. You don’t have anyone because no one can stand you. Your parents abandoned you, and your fiancé cheated on you…”

He spoke slowly, and when his gaze met yours, he noticed a brief flicker of vulnerability—but you quickly masked it with a smile.

He almost felt bad for you. Almost. But he didn’t regret saying it, and he would do it again if necessary.

“Whatever. Family is just a burden. I don’t need anyone, and I can live just fine on my own. Besides, maybe you should be worried, huh? The boss would never have sent me to you if he didn’t think you needed help. Maybe he realized just how useless you are.” You winked and got into your car.

As you started the engine and rolled down the window, the man remained standing there, lost in his thoughts, trapped by your words.

“Hey, baby, don’t walk around alone at night. This area is dangerous,” you teased before driving off.

He simply clenched his jaw, a growing resentment bubbling inside him.

He saw you as a threat. You would never take his place.

( . . . )

When you arrived at your apartment, you tossed your keys onto the table and hung your coat in the closet. You placed your shoes inside as well before closing the door.

With a sigh, you headed straight to the bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the hot shower—you really needed this. The water cascaded down your body, relaxing you, and a tired sigh escaped your lips.

Your mother and father would never have been proud of the person you became, but that was their fault. They were the ones who raised you the “right” way. Any mistake was met with punishment.

You became cold, sarcastic, and quiet around others. But no one ever really knew you. No one saw the pain, the fear, or the scars you carried from a disturbing childhood.

You had a slight fear of showing emotions or affection to anyone. There was only one person you had ever felt comfortable with, but even they betrayed you. So now, you truly had no one.

That day in the alley changed your life—but you still wondered if it was for better or worse. Everything felt strange. You felt strange.

Some days, your emotions felt numb. Other days, you just wanted to break down and cry with someone. But everyone you had trusted either betrayed you or left you traumatized. You would never trust anyone again.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you turned off the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel, drying your hair with another. You went to your room, grabbed some pajamas from your closet, and got dressed. After brushing and drying your hair, you applied some perfume and walked into the kitchen to make some tea.

One of the perks of living alone and having no friends was that you could use the guest room however you wanted—so you turned it into a library.

Once your tea was ready, you grabbed a book and headed to the balcony of your penthouse. The cold air brushed against your skin, but somehow, it didn’t bother you.

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO2

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Where Y/n, in an attempt to escape from Charles, her rival, fails because Charles keeps getting closer, and Y/n starts to like it.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Cute, Charles has improved from his foolishness, nothing too serious in this one, just fluff 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: I didn’t really like this story, it feels like I couldn’t develop it very well, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part one here ! 🤍

You couldn’t deny how Charles’ proximity brought several consequences, like: the media. Everyone was speculating so many things that happened between you two, theories totally out of reality. You tried to avoid him as much as you could or push him away, but he was always there, and that irritated you.

When you thought the wave of bad luck had ended, the universe conspired against you again.

This time it wasn’t your fault. It was finally your chance to make it to the podium, you were in second place, and because of a mistake from your team, you ended up in sixteenth place. After the race, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, and everyone knew it.

Then you hear a knock on the door but completely ignore it.

“I know you’re in there,” Charles says, and you just ignore him again.

After a while, you hear another knock. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Go away, Leclerc,” you say straightforwardly.

After your response, there’s a deadly silence, then you just close your eyes and sigh. But within a few seconds, you get startled when your door opens.

Clearly, Charles hadn’t left, so he decides to check and see how you’re doing, then opens the unlocked door.

“Are you crazy, you idiot?” you say, irritated as he enters, still recovering from the shock. Charles smiles and leans against the doorframe.

“Before anything, I need to know. Are you going to break something? Because if you are, just let me know and I’ll leave,” Charles asks calmly, making your blood boil.

“I’ll break you, idiot!” you say, throwing a pillow at him, which he just catches.

“Look how bold you are,” Charles laughs, and you huff.

“Go to hell.” Your voice is quieter now. “What kind of idiot enters someone’s room uninvited?”

He ignores the provocation and gets closer, throwing himself on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Stressing yourself out alone won’t help anything, you know?” You squint your eyes at his words.

“Since when do you care about what I do?” He doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, like he’s analyzing every expression.

“Since when did you stop hating me?” Charles says, and in that instant, you freeze.

And Charles notices.

His gaze locks on you for a second that’s too long, and for the first time, there’s something beyond rivalry there.

You look away, feeling your heart race in a way that annoys you deeply.

“Go screw yourself,” you say, still not looking at him, and Charles laughs softly.

“You’ve said that before, Y/n.”

He stands up and walks towards the door. But before leaving, he throws one last provocation:

“Try not to think too much about me, Y/n.”

And then, he leaves, leaving you even more confused and furious than before, not knowing what to respond.

( . . . )

The tension between you two grows to an unbearable point. Everything explodes in a tense practice, where Charles makes an aggressive move, and Y/n nearly hits the wall.

When you both get out of the cars, she goes straight to him in the pit lane, pushing him in the chest.

“What’s your problem?! You could’ve slammed me into the wall!”

Charles grabs her wrists, stopping her from pushing him again.

“You’re shaking. Are you scared, Y/n?” he asks, almost choking on the words.

You pull your arms forcefully, your face burning with anger.

“I will NEVER be afraid of you!”

He leans in slightly, closing the distance between them.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

You pale.

Charles smiles.

You’re so angry that you almost punch him right there. But instead, you just glare at him with hatred and walk away.

But, for the first time, that hatred doesn’t feel so simple.

( . . . )

After that fight, Charles pulls back a bit. He stops provoking her so much, but Y/n misses it. This deeply irritates her.

Until one night, before an important race, she finds him alone in the pits, sitting with his arms crossed, staring at the car.

Without thinking, you approach him.

“So, you think sometimes too. I thought you only talked nonsense.” You say, stopping beside him.

Charles smiles, but doesn’t make a joke.

“Hey, what’s up, idiot? You’re way too quiet.” Her question makes him sigh.

You frown.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be tough,” Charles murmurs.

She frowns.

“You always say that, and in the end, you go speeding like there’s no tomorrow.” You respond, rolling your eyes, stating the obvious.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his face.

“This time it’s weird. I’ve been feeling bad since yesterday, like I have a fever or something.” His words make you worry, but you don’t show it.

“What?”

“If they find out, they won’t let me race. So you’re the only one who knows, and if you tell anyone, you’re done.” He says jokingly, and you cross your arms, skeptical.

“So you’re gonna hide this until you pass out in the car? Great plan.”

Charles gives a slight smile.

“I thought you’d like the idea. If I pass out, you can finally get first place.” You roll your eyes, but inside, you feel a strange tightness in your chest. He was really sick. And still, he was there, ready to race.

You sigh. You didn’t understand why this feeling of worry, especially since, above all, you hated each other, right? Of course, you hated each other, and could never be friends.

“You’re an idiot. But a fast idiot.” Charles turns his face to Y/n, surprised by the concern.

“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Charles says sincerely, and you just roll your eyes as if you hadn’t said anything, but the truth was that you were really “kind,” and you didn’t understand why.

“Don’t get used to it,” you say bluntly.

But when you leave, you hate admitting that something between you two has changed.

And you didn’t know what it was.

( . . . )

The heat inside the car was suffocating, and Charles felt the sweat trickling down his neck as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His body felt heavy, the fever draining his strength, but he couldn’t back down.

On the radio, the voice of the team sounded distant.

“Charles, how are the conditions?” The engineer asks, as usual.

He presses the radio button, trying to sound normal.

“Everything’s under control.”

Lie.

Nothing was under control, and Charles knew it, but he couldn’t admit it. The race seemed to last longer than expected, every corner demanding more from him than he was used to. His vision seemed blurry at times, but he was already here, and there was no way to quit.

A few laps later, Y/n had already noticed something was wrong. She saw Henrique in the rearview mirror, struggling more than usual to keep pace. He wasn’t driving with his usual aggression.

“Shit, he’s worse than he seemed yesterday,” you think to yourself, growing concern building up.

You grip the steering wheel, frustrated with yourself. Why were you worrying about him?

On lap 38, a mistake. Small, but enough.

Charles brakes too late in a corner and ends up sliding, losing position to Y/n. You pass him, but, when glancing at the car beside you, you see his hand trembling on the steering wheel.

He won’t make it through the entire race.

Y/n’s engineer’s voice comes through the radio:

“Good job, P2 now. Keep pushing the leader.” Your engineer says happily, but you weren’t on the same level of happiness.

You should be satisfied. But, for the first time, you weren’t.

When the race ends, Charles can barely get out of the car. As soon as his feet hit the ground, his legs give out. The fever, the exhaustion… everything hit him at once. He stumbles a little, trying to hide it, but before he can fall, someone catches him.

You.

You hold his arm firmly, preventing him from collapsing right there.

“I knew you were gonna do this shit,” you say, irritated.

Charles lets out a weak laugh.

“And I knew you’d catch me if I fell.” Charles says, cocky, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go of his arm.

The journalists notice the scene and begin to approach with cameras and microphones, sniffing out an interesting moment.

Before anyone can ask anything, Y/n steps forward, blocking Charles from their view.

“No questions right now. He needs rest.” You say firmly, but the journalists don’t leave.

Charles looks at you, surprised by the attitude. He didn’t expect this from you, not really.

You look at him.

“Come on, before I regret helping you.” You say, helping him again, making his body lean against yours.

Charles smiles lightly, liking the idea of being close to you.

“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You sigh, impatient.

“I swear, if you say that again…” you say, impatient, but a slight blush creeping onto your face. Thankfully, you could say it was because of the race.

Charles laughs, but inside, he feels that something between you two has changed.

( . . . )

The deafening roar of the engines had faded, replaced by the cheers and applause of the crowd. You had won. Your first victory in Formula 1.

It was a dream come true, beyond just proving your ability and strength to everyone. You were radiant like never before, a genuine smile on your face.

You were on the podium, holding the trophy, champagne dripping through your fingers. Max and Lando, beside you, were smiling, but you could barely process anything. The world seemed like a blur of emotions and adrenaline. Your first victory after racing against rumors and trying to prove you were capable. And even more so, you were beside people you could trust and count on forever.

It was so rewarding.

The podium ceremony and trophy presentation, you couldn’t have been happier. Lando and Max, without excitement, sprayed champagne on you, celebrating.

When you were finally ready for interviews, you felt someone pull you by the wrist to a secluded spot.

You had seen this scene before, and your heart sank.

“Lando, please don’t tell me it’s another fake news about me,” you murmur sadly, and when you turn, you see Charles.

He says nothing. He just looks at you with an intensity that makes you forget all the confusion around you.

“You did it.” His voice is quieter than you imagined, but there’s a genuine smile on Charles’ face. You laugh, sighing.

“I did it, didn’t I? This is crazy. Doesn’t even feel real!” you say, like a child who just got a candy. You’re so happy, and it captivates your rival.

Charles hesitates for a second. You notice he wants to say something else, but at the last moment, he just smiles and pulls you into a tight, unexpected hug.

This time, you don’t resist and hug him back.

You both pull away from the hug, and the adrenaline runs through your body. Until you hear someone call your name, you quickly say a “see you later” to Charles and leave him there alone, thinking.

Charles’ heart hurt when he saw your fear that there might be more bad news about you.

It was clear Charles had been a jerk to you since he entered Formula 1, but he really didn’t understand why.

Maybe it was because pretending to hate you was easier than saying he loved you.

But he felt guilty instantly when he saw you broken, crying on Lando’s shoulder, when he saw you more vulnerable than ever.

He hated everyone who made you cry, and from that day on, he made a promise to himself: he didn’t want to be that kind of person.

The team decided to celebrate the win with a dinner. Everyone was there – the engineers, the drivers, even some members of the media. You were sitting next to Lando, listening to some nonsense joke he was telling, but you could feel a gaze on you.

When you looked up, there he was.

Charles, across the table, holding a glass, watching you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

His eyes didn’t shift, not even when you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

And then, he smiled.

Small, discreet, but the kind of smile that made something inside you tremble.

You swallow hard and look away.

Damn it.

You turn back to Lando to hide it, but soon laugh at a completely absurd joke, laughing the same way Lando did at his own joke.

Later that night, you were outside the restaurant, enjoying the fresh air. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the muffled sound of the celebration still echoed from inside.

“Running away from your own party?” You jump, startled, as soon as you hear someone behind you.

But as soon as you recognize the familiar voice, your heart skips a beat. You slowly turn around, and Charles is there, hands in his pockets, that intense look again.

“I just needed a moment.” You reply, looking away from Charles, now staring at the ground.

He nods and steps closer, stopping beside you. The silence between you two feels different now. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not easy to ignore either. When you look up again and look at Charles beside you, your heart skips.

Then, he extends his hand and, without warning, brushes a strand of hair from your face.

Your body stiffens. The touch is brief, but the skin where he touched feels like it’s burning. You see when Charles notices. You see when he finally understands.

And then, he smiles again.

“This might be a problem,” Charles says, looking at you with a smile. You just breathe deeply and nod, now looking away at the view in front of you. You can feel Charles staring at you.

( . . . )

In the next race, everything seemed normal. Or at least, it should have been.

You were talking with Lando and Max in the paddock, laughing at some silly thing Lando had just said. The atmosphere was light and relaxed, until you felt that gaze again.

Charles.

He was just a few meters away, arms crossed, listening to an engineer speak, but clearly not paying attention. His gaze was fixed on you. You did everything to hide the nervousness he caused, but your cheeks flushed slightly, and once again, your heart was faltering. You tried to focus on the conversation between the two drivers in front of you, but you failed miserably.

When your eyes met, something shifted. Your breath stopped in your throat, and time seemed to slow down. The only thing you could hear was your heart racing.

He squinted his eyes, as if irritated, leaving you confused. You raised an eyebrow and turned back to your friends. After a few minutes, you felt someone tap your shoulder.

You turned around and saw the person you really wanted to avoid.

“Y/n, can we talk?” Charles said, sounding irritated. You were confused and choked on your own saliva. Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the interruption. Lando looked at you, puzzled, then looked at Max.

“Now?” You asked, suspicious.

“Now,” Charles said firmly, and you nodded, with no real option.

You said goodbye to the others and followed him to a more secluded spot. Charles took a deep breath, as if trying to find the right words, but in the end, he just blurted out:

“What were you doing with them?” He said bluntly, and you blinked, surprised. You opened your mouth and closed it, not knowing what to say.

“Excuse me?” You responded, still in shock.

“What were you doing with them? Max and Lando,” Charles repeated, moving a little closer to make sure he heard you right. You laughed in disbelief.

“Talking? Laughing? Ever heard of that?” You said, obviously crossing your arms.

He didn’t laugh. He remained serious.

“With Max? With Lando?” He asked again, and you tilted your head, still a little lost in all of this.

“Yes. What’s the problem?” You said innocently, and Charles thought it was cute, but then remembered why he was there.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

“The problem is that…” He stopped in the middle of the sentence, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, now with a determined glint.

“Forget it.” The driver in front of you took a step forward. Now, you were so close that you could smell him, a mix of fuel and expensive cologne. Charles turned around to leave, but you grabbed his wrist, freezing him in place.

“What’s wrong, Charles?” You whispered, your voice softer than you intended.

He hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment.

Then he murmured:

“I don’t like seeing you with them, I don’t know.” Charles shrugged. Your heart raced.

And for the first time, you saw in his eyes what you had only suspected before.

And you stood there for a while, just looking at each other. You sighed, half enjoying the confession, but it made you even more lost.

Then, without warning, Charles stepped closer, and again, you smelled him. You were only a few centimeters apart.

“C-Charles?” You called him.

“Yes?”

“What is this?” You asked, but completely lost in the proximity.

He didn’t answer. He just took a step forward, closing the distance between you. His hand found your face, hesitant at first, but firm enough for you to feel the warmth against your skin.

And then, without waiting any longer, Charles kissed you.

It wasn’t a rushed or uncertain kiss. It was something intense, charged with everything that had been hanging in the air for so long—unspoken teasing, glances that lasted a little too long, words never said but always felt.

You kissed him back without thinking. One of your hands grabbed his shirt, as if you needed something to hold on to. The other found his neck, feeling how he leaned in even more toward you.

The world around you disappeared.

It was just him. Just the two of you.

And when you finally pulled away, your faces still close, your breaths mixing, Charles smiled. That crooked, teasing smile, but now it was different—there was something more there now.

“Now tell me… are you still going to pretend this means nothing?”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you didn’t look away. With a small smile, he gently ran his thumb across your cheek before adding, almost like a whisper:

“Because I can’t, I can’t pretend and deny what I feel for you, Y/n.”

( . . . )

The tension between you two had only grown since that conversation, that kiss. You couldn’t deny your mood had undoubtedly improved.

Now, minutes before the race start, you were on the grid, mentally reviewing the strategy, trying to concentrate. But your mind kept drifting back to Charles.

Then, he appeared. The red suit, the determined eyes, but at the same time… different.

He approached without hesitation.

“Good luck, Y/n,” you loved the way he said your name.

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do I need it?” You asked, laughing, and Charles smiled.

He shrugged.

“No. But I needed an excuse.”

You furrowed your brow.

“An excuse for what?” You asked innocently again, and Charles smiled.

And then, again, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Not a full kiss. Just a touch, a test.

But it was enough to take your breath away.

Before you could react, he was already pulling away, putting on his helmet, and heading to his car. He turned to you and winked.

You stood there, frozen.

Lando, who had seen everything, whistled. You looked at him, lost, your face turning as red as a tomato.

“That was interesting,” he said, crossing his arms. You hit his arm.

Lando laughed and raised an eyebrow. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, Norris?” You said impatiently.

“That you two are… like this,” he pointed to you and then to Charles.

“Like what?”

“Like this!” Lando said, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, Y/n, you used to hate each other, and now he comes and kisses you in front of everyone, not even embarrassed.”

You couldn’t respond, just shrugged.

Because, in that moment, one thing became absolutely clear.

This was no longer a game.

( . . . )

You won.

Again.

But this time, the only thing you wanted wasn’t to lift the trophy or spray champagne.

It was to find Charles.

And he knew that.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you felt a hand on your wrist. He pulled you into a corner, away from the cameras, the journalists, any distractions.

His eyes were shining, but it wasn’t just from the race.

“How many more times are we going to pretend this isn’t happening?” Your chest tightened because you knew exactly what he meant.

You exhaled, a small smile forming on your lips.

“I think it’s already enough, right? You kissed me in front of everyone, I don’t think we need to pretend anymore.” You said, smiling like a happy little girl.

His smile grew, full of something new—certainty.

“Good.” And this time, when he leaned in, there were no doubts, hesitations, or teasing.

This time, it was real. And you knew there was no turning back, so you continued.

Charles pulled back and kissed your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with love.

“I want to hear that from you.” Charles said, holding your hand.

“Hear what?” You said, pretending not to understand, and Charles groaned, throwing his head back.

“If we’re going to be like this, I’ll say it first. Before anything, I want to apologize for being such a jerk. I thought pretending to hate you was easier than telling you how much I like you.” Charles sighed, and you felt like you were floating. Your heart leaped with joy, and the only thing you could do was hug him, so you did.

“It’s okay, Charles. This can stay in the past.” You said, still hugging him. Charles let go of you and held your waist firmly. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And besides, I think I like you a little too.”

“A little?” He complained, pretending to be offended.

“Yes, just a little.” You said, showing with your fingers how small the amount was. Charles laughed and gave you a quick kiss.

“You’re going to be my downfall, Y/n.” Charles said, and you kissed him.

[luvsferrariss]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 🦢˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 🎀 ɞ masterlist !

ʚ 🎀 ɞ Here I will put my imagines and stories for easy access!

💌 ! charles leclerc :

• who said that I hate you? ( part one ; part two )

💌 ! han seo-jun :

• a love between letters and secrets ( here ! )

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: S/n, the rookie in Formula 1, challenges sexism in the sport, facing criticism, intense rivalries, and false accusations. Amid fierce disputes with Charles Leclerc and unexpected support, she fights to prove her talent.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warnings: Heavy sexism, fake news (??), Charles being a complete jerk, and angst. Let me know if I forgot anything.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be a short story, but I got carried away and had to split it into two parts. If you guys like it, I’ll post part two tomorrow! English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part two here! ✨

Formula 1 has always been a male-dominated sport, but who said that would stop rookie S/n from claiming her place? No, giving up was never on her list of options.

You’ve spent your whole life hearing that you would never make it into Formula 1, that you could never compete on equal footing with a man. But when you finally signed a contract with one of the top teams on the grid, you realized the biggest challenge wasn’t on the track—it was the people who wanted to see you fail.

Among those people was Charles Leclerc, one of the most beloved drivers among fans. Charles hated the attention you were getting, convinced that everything you did was just marketing and nothing more. He made sure to make that clear, with interviews filled with sharp remarks and intense on-track battles.

To Charles, S/n was nothing more than a lucky rookie. To S/n, Charles was just another jerk trying to bring her down—like so many before him.

“S/n, are you okay? S/n, if you’re alright, just answer!” Your engineer’s panicked voice echoed through the radio just as your car crashed into the tire barrier.

Everything happened in a blur. You had been fighting for the lead on the final lap against Charles Leclerc, and suddenly, you were struggling against your aching body to get out of your wrecked car.

“I’m fine. Just sore, but I’m fine,” you responded firmly as you stepped out of the cockpit.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins. You kicked the car hard before shrugging it off, trying to calm yourself. The medical team rushed over, but you simply nodded and got into the rescue vehicle, removing your helmet and letting out a long sigh.

Back at the garage, you waved briefly at your trainer and went straight to your private room.

You threw your helmet into a random corner, kicked the couch, and collapsed onto it. The TV in the room replayed the crash. Anger boiled inside you. Without thinking, you got up and stormed back to the garage, determined.

“Do you have any idea what you just did, S/n?! You could have been seriously hurt… or worse!” Your PR manager, Adele, exclaimed as soon as she saw you walk in. Your trainer, Steve, and your public relations assistant, Bree, rushed to you.

You looked down at your race suit, still covered in dust. You brushed it off lightly, but nothing could erase the bitter taste of defeat burning in your throat.

“That clueless idiot is entirely to blame! He threw me into the wall on purpose! Did you see how he closed that corner?! Asshole.” Your voice dripped with indignation.

Steve and Bree immediately agreed, but Adele sighed, running a hand down her face.

“S/n, you can’t afford to lose your head over him. The media is already waiting outside, and I can guarantee they won’t go easy on you,” Bree warned, her voice calm.

You huffed, closing your eyes for a moment before facing them.

“Sorry, guys. But this time, I won’t stay quiet.”

The paddock sweltered under the scorching sun, and the sound of cameras clicking was deafening. You adjusted your team cap, trying to hide the simmering rage.

In front of you, a journalist held out a microphone with a smug smile.

“So, S/n… Do you think that crash was due to incompetence or inexperience?”

Your jaw tightened, but the journalist continued, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.

“I mean, a lot of people were already questioning your place in Formula 1. Isn’t it obvious now that this sport just isn’t for you?”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your anger in check. But before you could respond, a firm voice cut through the air:

“Excuse me, are you planning to ask serious questions and act like a professional, or are you just going to keep up this ridiculous circus?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen standing beside you, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

The journalist tried to laugh, taken aback, but Max didn’t back down.

“If any other driver had crashed, you’d be analyzing the data, not mocking them. But of course, it’s easier to tear down a woman than admit she has talent.”

A lump formed in your throat—not from weakness, but from gratitude.

“If you want to talk about who deserves to be in Formula 1, start by actually analyzing things properly. But I suppose real journalism is too hard for you,” Max finished, pulling you away from the journalist, who stood speechless.

When the interviews finally ended, you leaned against a wall near the exit.

“Thanks, Max. I don’t think I’ve ever been at a loss for words before.”

He smirked.

“It’s alright, S/n. Look, I know what it’s like to be criticized. Not like you, of course. It must be even harder for you… Society is still so sexist. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

He draped an arm over your shoulder.

“And since I was so nice, how about you buy me an ice cream?”

You laughed, finally feeling some of the pressure and anger fade away.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

( . . . )

Just minutes after you left, the same journalist who had humiliated you was now grinning at Charles—the one responsible for your crash and disqualification. The contrast was brutal.

“Charles, what a race! You mastered the corners brilliantly and proved once again why you’re one of the best on the grid. How does it feel to be such an inspiration to aspiring drivers?”

S/n watched the broadcast while picking up her ice cream. Max had been smiling at you, but as soon as he saw your expression, his own smile faded. Your muscles had already tensed in anger. The way Charles smiled and basked in the praise made your blood boil.

“Well, I think some drivers need to understand track limits better. But… it’s all part of the learning process, right?” Charles spoke modestly, but his tone carried clear provocation.

You felt your entire body tremble. How dare he act like a hero after what he had done?

Max, standing beside you, whispered:

“S/n, don’t do anything. This is exactly what he wants.”

He gripped your arm, worried about what you might do next, and pulled you away from the shop.

You took a deep breath, but every word from that reporter felt like a knife sinking deeper into your skin.

Minutes later, Charles approached you in the corridors, hands in his pockets, wearing a smug grin.

“Are you okay, princess? That was quite the accident… Shame you couldn’t keep the car under control.”

S/n clenched her jaw, fists tightening. Every fiber of her being screamed to punch him right there.

But she held her ground, her voice a cold, sharp blade.

“Careful, Charles. Because when I win, there won’t be any excuses left to save you.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving him speechless.

When you reached your motorhome, Adele was waiting for you, pacing back and forth.

“Hey, Adele! What happened—” Before you could finish speaking, she pulled out her phone and showed you a news article.

“S/n under suspicion: FIA investigates possible data manipulation in the rookie driver’s car.”

Your eyes scanned the words, your heart pounding. A lump formed in your throat. It was a lie. A dirty, planned lie…

You felt your fingers trembling.

Lando came up behind you and read the headline over your shoulder.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Lando said, frowning. You jumped at his sudden presence and immediately turned to face him.

“They want me out of the game,” you murmured, pure anger in your voice.

You walked into the motorhome and threw yourself onto the couch, running a hand over your face, exhausted from all the accusations.

( . . . )

Two weeks had passed since your confrontation with Charles, and finally, it was another race weekend. You smiled as soon as you stepped into the paddock—nothing could shake you here.

Everything was perfect. You were in a great mood, and everything felt in perfect harmony.

As you made your way to your team’s garage, you suddenly felt someone grab your arm before you could step inside.

You stumbled, but someone caught you. Looking up, you saw Lando, his hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Lando! What happened? Why did you drag me here?” you asked, laughing at his reaction.

The worried expression on his face made your heart skip a beat.

“S/n, did you check social media today?” Lando asked, and you shook your head.

“No, why?” You asked, looking at the phone in his hand.

Frowning, you grabbed the phone, your eyes darting over the bold headline on the sports website:

“SCANDAL IN FORMULA 1: S/N INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH COMMITTED TEAMMATE”

“Internal team sources reveal that rookie driver S/n isn’t just trying to make a name for herself on the track but also off of it. According to exclusive reports, S/n has allegedly been having an affair with her teammate while he was still in a relationship with his now ex-girlfriend, who is pregnant!

The secret relationship has supposedly caused numerous arguments within the team, with rumors that tensions in the garage became unbearable after a confrontation between the ex-girlfriend and S/n. Some team members, speaking anonymously, claim that the driver’s performance has been questioned because she has allegedly been receiving internal favors to keep her seat.

Moreover, speculation has arisen that her closeness with her teammate may be influencing certain strategic decisions in her favor, raising doubts about the legitimacy of her season results.

The FIA has yet to comment on the matter, but the negative backlash is growing on social media. Has S/n used Formula 1 not only to prove her skills but also to climb the ranks through scandal?”

“WHAT?!” you shouted, and Lando quickly covered your mouth.

You felt your blood boiling in your veins. Your heart was beating so fast it echoed in your ears. You reread every sentence, every disgusting lie, and the anger inside you grew into a suffocating knot in your throat.

“This is absurd,” your best friend said in a low but furious voice. You looked at him in desperation, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body shaking with fear.

“What kind of sick joke is this, Lando?” You stared at the phone in your hand. “Who would have the audacity to make this up?! How the hell am I ‘influencing strategic decisions’ when they barely trust me to change my tires at the pit stop?” Your voice was low, but Lando looked at you worriedly, already knowing you well enough to see that you were on the verge of an outburst.

“Whoever did this wants to destroy you, no matter what. First, that ridiculous accusation about the car’s data, and now this?” Lando leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“And the worst part is that people are going to believe it!” you said, deadly serious but clearly terrified.

“S/n, I know you want to explode right now, but we need to think about what to do. They want to destabilize you.” Lando spoke, and silence fell over the place. You weren’t just angry anymore—you were sad, upset. You wanted to cry.

You took a deep breath, but it felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Your eyes returned to the phone, where the article was already going viral. In the comments, a flood of toxic messages appeared:

“Knew she wasn’t actually talented.”

“Women in F1 always end up making headlines for the wrong reasons.”

“Of course, it had to be a woman. Getting ahead the easy way.”

“Shame on the sport. Who’s protecting her?”

That was the final straw for you.

Your chest ached. Not from weakness, but from a deep sadness that made your body tremble.

Lando noticed.

“This isn’t just about destabilizing me, Lando! This is a direct attack on my reputation! They’re basically saying I’m only here because I slept with someone?! This is disgusting!” Your voice cracked, and tears started streaming down your face. You had never broken down like this in front of anyone. Your legs gave out, and Lando noticed, rushing toward you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You can’t let them win, S/n. You’re not alone, okay?” Lando murmured, running a hand through your hair.

“Why, Lando? Why do they hate me so much? I never did anything to these… assholes, I swear! I may be explosive, but what did I ever do to them?” you sobbed, your voice failing. Your best friend was always there for you, and you were grateful for that.

( . . . )

“What the hell is this!?” Max bursts out, furious, as he storms into the meeting room where you, the team leader, and the PR team are gathered.

You still felt the sadness burning inside you when the door swung open forcefully. Your teammate, Max, rushed in, his eyes blazing with indignation. Right behind him, Kelly, his girlfriend, clutched her phone tightly, as if ready to smash it.

“Oh, so you saw the ridiculous nonsense they’re spreading too? Welcome to hell.” You sigh, your tone calm. Everyone stares at you, surprised. They expected you to be angry—or worse.

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset.

“I saw it, and it’s unbelievable! Who has the audacity to make up something like this? I’m still with Kelly, and now they’re trying to turn this into a scandal?” Max says, sitting down beside you. Kelly joins him, and despite her frustration, she offers you a reassuring smile.

“This is so ridiculous it’s actually offensive! As if I would end a relationship over a stupid rumor!” Kelly says, clearly frustrated with the situation. She looks at you, her expression softening when she sees the emptiness in your eyes. “I know you would never do something like this. Just because you’re a woman working in a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to sleep with someone to earn your place. Whoever wrote this deserves to be sued.”

An unexpected tightness grips your chest. After everything you had endured that day, hearing Kelly defend you instead of accusing you was a relief you didn’t even know you needed.

You offer a small, tired smile and meet her gaze.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you whisper, and she smiles back.

“The problem was never you, S/n. The problem is people who refuse to accept that a woman can be great at what she does without relying on anyone,” Bree, your PR assistant, speaks up, and you let out a deep sigh.

Max nods in agreement.

“Exactly. They want to destroy S/n’s reputation because they know they can’t beat her on the track,” Max finally says after a long silence. He takes a deep breath, grabs his phone, and starts typing. “I’m shutting this down right now.”

Within seconds, his Instagram post is already going viral:

@maxverstappen: “Just to be clear: the rumors about S/n and me having any kind of romantic involvement are completely false. Kelly and I are together and doing great, and this attack on S/n is just another disgusting attempt to discredit her. Enough with the fake news. Respect the sport.”

Kelly follows suit, posting a story:

@kellypiquet: “Let’s get one thing straight: S/n has NEVER disrespected me or Max in any way. This story is just another example of how women in sports are attacked for no reason. Grow up.”

( . . . )

After the fake news scandal, you expected Charles Leclerc to use it against you, but to your surprise, he remained silent. No provocative comments, no sly remarks in interviews. He just watched you from a distance, as if analyzing your every reaction.

Charles truly didn’t feel comfortable mocking this kind of situation—not after everything he had witnessed.

Then, the day after the media chaos, when you were alone in the garage reviewing race data, he appeared beside you, casually leaning against the table.

“So… what’s it like being the most dangerous woman in Formula 1?” Charles asked sarcastically, but without the malice he once had.

You narrowed your eyes, already expecting a jab. You were used to his teasing.

“Listen, Charles,” you said, stepping closer, “if you’re here to make jokes, you can turn around and leave. I’m not in the mood.”

Charles crossed his arms, but his gaze lacked the arrogance it usually carried.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not here to fight. I just… wanted to see how you were holding up,” Charles said, scratching the back of his head. You hesitated for a moment, confused.

Charles was asking how you were?

“As if you care,” you spat, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

Charles shrugged.

“I’m not going to lie—I enjoy messing with you. But I know what it’s like to have the world call you a fraud.”

Your eyes widened, surprised by his admission.

“You? The media’s golden boy? Ferrari’s prodigy?” you mocked, and he rolled his eyes.

“The media chooses who to attack. Today, it’s you. Tomorrow, it could be anyone,” Charles said before walking away.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel immediate hatred for Leclerc.

( . . . )

After the false news spread, the journalists still hadn’t let go of S/n. Now, more than ever, she was the main target. During a team event, a persistent reporter started pressing her with loaded questions.

“S/n, do you think your involvement with Max could affect your career in the long run?”

The reporter’s words instantly irritated you.

“I’ve already said there was no involvement. That’s a lie.” You responded confidently, keeping your anger in check.

But he just smirked, still trying to provoke you.

“But rumors always have some truth to them, don’t they? Maybe it’s just a matter of admitting it…”

Before you could snap, Charles appeared by your side, resting a casual yet protective hand on your shoulder. You glanced at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. You raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Interesting… you ask very specific questions for someone who has no proof of anything.” Charles stared directly at the reporter. The journalist hesitated, and Charles continued. “Formula 1 is a competitive sport, but it seems like you’d rather turn it into a cheap reality show.”

You were surprised. It was the first time Charles had publicly defended you or had any interaction beyond provoking you.

When the journalist finally gave up and walked away, you turned to him, suspicious.

“Okay… what was that?” You asked slowly, still looking at his hand on your shoulder. Charles pulled it away, made a face, and wiped it on his clothes.

He shrugged.

“You already have enough problems. You don’t need an idiot like that making it worse.”

You stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“You hate me. Why are you helping me?”

Charles held your gaze a second longer than necessary before smirking.

“Who said I hate you?” He said and then walked away, leaving you more confused than ever.

( . . . )

After Charles’ unexpected defense, the dynamic between the two of you became dangerous territory. You started noticing how often he was around—sometimes teasing, sometimes protective, but always testing your limits.

Then, during another press conference, Charles defended you again. Lando and Max exchanged glances before looking at you, waiting for your reaction. You stared, mouth slightly open, completely lost. You turned to Lando and murmured:

“What was that?”

Lando just shrugged, looking even more confused than you.

That really sent some intrusive thoughts your way.

At the paddock gym? He was there, running on the treadmill next to you.

In team briefings? He made a point to sit close and throw in snide remarks.

At sponsor events? He joked about how you had to smile for journalists who clearly hated you.

And the worst part? He never crossed a certain line.

One night, after a mandatory team dinner, you were walking back to the hotel when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned abruptly—there he was, hands in his pockets, walking casually as if it was nothing.

“Are you following me now?” You rolled your eyes.

Charles gave you a slow smirk, completely unfazed by the accusation.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not that obsessed with you. We’re just heading to the same place.”

He said it so casually, making sure to emphasize the nickname he had given you, something he always did when you were alone.

You crossed your arms, suspicious.

“Right. And you just happen to always be where I am lately? And what’s with that nickname?”

Your arguments didn’t bother him one bit—unlike you, who desperately wanted answers.

He shrugged.

“Coincidence. Or maybe I just like seeing you get worked up.” He clicked his tongue. “And the nickname? It’s just a fact. You’re really stressed all the time, S/n.”

You narrowed your eyes. You wanted to hate him completely, but something about his calm, teasing demeanor made your blood boil in a different way.

And the nickname? He wasn’t wrong.

So you turned on your heel, walking briskly toward your room.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to be around him.

That was it.

Avoid him. You told yourself.

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ a love between letters and secrets - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ synopsis: In a desperate situation to help Han Seo-Jun, S/N offers to tutor him.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Han Seo-Jun x famale reader.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warnings: Bullying, mentions of anxiety, shy reader. I don’t think there’s anything else, but if I forgot something, please let me know.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ author’s Notes: I’m really excited to write this story—it’s been on my mind for a long time! I know it’s been almost five years since this K-drama aired, but I still love it. I hope you all enjoy it! I’m a little shy about my work, but I’ll try to post more here. English isn’t my first language, so there might be mistakes—sorry! 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Series Masterlist here! 🤍

After a long study session, your pencil slipped from your hand, landing on your math notebook. You sighed, checked your phone, and saw that there were less than five minutes left before class started. Removing your headphones, you placed them in your bag along with your phone. Before class began, you decided to head to the bathroom.

Once there, you reapplied your lip gloss and adjusted your prescription glasses on your face. Your contact lenses had run out, and since you had ordered them online, they hadn’t arrived in time for class. Without them, you couldn’t see well, and though wearing glasses was a bit uncomfortable for you, you had no choice but to use them when necessary.

As you slipped the gloss into your pocket and turned to leave, you accidentally bumped into one of the school’s bullies.

“Well, look who we have here,” the girl sneered, pushing you back against the wall. “Decided to wear glasses again? What did I tell you about those, huh, Y/N? You look absolutely hideous.” She laughed, and you lowered your gaze, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed. She snatched your glasses off your face and tossed them into the trash before shoving you, making you fall to the ground.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing and your breath hitching. Unpleasant memories sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to steady your breathing, to calm yourself down, but you failed. You attempted to get up, but the girl shoved you back down.

“Stop acting smart. You’re not smart, and you’re definitely not pretty,” she taunted before walking out of the bathroom, laughing. You leaned against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest.

You heard hurried footsteps approaching, but your blurred vision made it impossible to see who it was. You swallowed back a sob, trying your best not to cry. A girl—clearly another student—helped you up and pulled you into a comforting hug.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The voice was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a small smile, looking down. “Could you help me find my glasses? I have no idea where they landed.”

“Of course, I’ll look for them.” She started searching while you leaned against the wall, rubbing your sore elbow. You could already tell it would bruise.

Another one you’d have to hide.

“Here, I found them. She threw them in the trash, but I’ll wash them for you.”

“There’s no need, I can—” you started, but she interrupted you.

“Y/N, relax. It’s okay, I already cleaned them. Here.” She handed you your glasses, and when you put them on, you finally saw her clearly—it was your classmate, Lim Joo-Kyung. Relief washed over you at the sight of a familiar face.

The two of you hadn’t really talked before. You came from different worlds—while you were the quiet, studious type, she was… well, she was beautiful, and her beauty was practically legendary at school.

She had only been attending for a few weeks, but she had already captured countless hearts.

“Thank you, Lim Joo-Kyung. Really, thank you,” you said sincerely.

“No problem, Y/N,” she replied with a simple smile, and you smiled back, a little shyly.

“Can we keep this between us? I don’t want anyone to know, please,” you said, your voice wavering slightly. She sighed, understanding your pain.

“Of course. But if this happens again, try to talk to someone, okay?” she said, and you nodded. “Was this the first time?”

“Yes, it was. Don’t worry.”

No, it wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“Well, alright then. Just let me know if anything happens, okay? Now, let’s head back to class.” She linked her arm with yours, and the two of you walked together.

It was nice. You had a hard time making friends because of your shyness, but this moment made you happy.

When you arrived, both of you apologized to the teacher, who simply smiled understandingly. You took your seat, and when you glanced at your new friend, she winked at you.

( . . . )

“Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang…” the teacher sighed, looking at the mother and son sitting in front of him. “It’s no secret that Han Seo-Jun’s grades have been dropping significantly. After discussing it with the other teachers, we felt it was necessary to speak with you about it,” Mr. Han Jun-Woo explained.

The woman sighed, turning to her son, who had his head lowered, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“It can’t be that bad…” Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang started, but she stopped immediately when the teacher handed her a sheet with her son’s grades. “Oh… Wow. Is there anything we can do to improve this?”

“Look, Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang. More than any other teacher here, I believe in this boy and his potential,” Mr. Han Jun-Woo said, making Han Seo-Jun lift his head. “I think tutoring sessions could really help him bring his grades up. I understand he had to take some time off, but now that he’s back, I hope he can catch up.”

As the teacher spoke, Han Seo-Jun sighed and glanced around the room—his eyes landed on Y/N, who was talking to another teacher. A smile lit up her face as she received a paper. Han Seo-Jun squinted slightly, observing her. How had he never noticed her before? That smile was…

“He could join the after-school study group for tutoring,” the teacher suggested, snapping the boy back to reality.

“That sounds like a great option. It would really help,” Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang agreed, smiling. But her son sighed, shaking his head in clear disapproval.

“I’ll just check if there’s an available spot for him, and tomorrow I’ll—” The teacher paused, smiling when he spotted Y/N. He waved her over, and she approached with a shy smile.

“Do you need anything, sir?” she asked timidly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Y/N, this is Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang, Han Seo-Jun’s mother.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted politely, and the older woman immediately found her endearing.

“Y/N is the top student in our class. She and Lee Su-Ho are always competing for the highest grades,” the teacher chuckled. “But in a healthy way. Y/N used to help with tutoring, but this year, she stepped back to focus on organizing the sessions. She’s studying to become a doctor.” He spoke proudly, and Y/N nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

“Really? That’s amazing, Y/N. I hope you achieve your goal,” Mrs. Lee Mi-Hyang said kindly, making Y/N blush and mumble a shy thank you.

“So, Y/N, we wanted to ask if there are any open spots in the tutoring program after school. Han Seo-Jun could use some help,” the teacher said.

“Hmm, unfortunately, all the groups are full. I believe new spots will open next month,” Y/N responded politely, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Alright, we’ll figure something out. Thank you, Y/N.” The teacher dismissed her, and she walked toward the classroom. But as she reached the door, an idea struck her. Without thinking twice, she ran back to the teacher’s office.

“Sir, I think I can help,” she said, making him turn to her immediately. Fortunately, no one else was around. “I can tutor Han Seo-Jun after school. We can schedule study sessions—I really don’t mind.”

“But you need to focus on your own studies, Y/N. I appreciate your willingness to help, but you should prioritize yourself,” the teacher said, but she shook her head.

“No, really, it’s fine. I’d do this for anyone who needed help,” she said confidently, making the teacher nod.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he asked, still hesitant.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, then. I’ll talk to his mother.”

[luvsferrariss]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 🦢˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 🎀 ɞ welcome to our world, girls.

𐙚 call me annie!

. • ! 🤍 writing to escape my reality a little and ready to make new friends!

. • ! 🤍 Born in 2006, I'm just a girl who likes to write to my husbands around the world.

𐙚 ! 🩰 : When requesting an order, don’t forget to be polite.

requests: open! 🩷

masterlist here! 🤍

𐙚 ! 🩰 : Everyone is welcome to send messages and ideas, without needing to, I'll always be here! ✨

𐙚 ! 🩰 : Everything I write and post is my own, I will not give any type of permission to translate and post in other places. Please respect that and don't be mean.

copyright ©️ luvsferrariss !

#𐙚 ! 🩰 —— xoxo, annie!