#ferrari listen to charles challenge

[yrsonpurpose]

CHARLES LECLERC Qualifying // Canadian GP 2023

[pucksandpower]

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

[beiasluv]

forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

[saistappen]

Mariquita | CS55

In which Carlos' appendectomy triggers a huge emotional chaos in you and makes you realise just how big your feelings for the Spaniard actually are

or

In which your concern for Carlos clearly shows the Spaniard that you probably feel the same way about him as he does about you

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The last few days have been pure confusion. You could clearly feel this at Ferrari.

After Carlos' appendicitis was announced, on which he had to undergo surgery, the young Briton Olli Bearman was brought in to replace Carlos and chaos began to reign in the team.

Some things had to be changed, such as the adjustment of the seat, as well as various other things up to the well-known gift in the social media.

The hustle and bustle could be clearly felt throughout the team. But the excitement was not just for the young 18-year-old Brit, but also for the Spaniard. Because most of the time, the team's thoughts were on Carlos, who should soon have the operation behind him.

" Have you finished the Instagram post yet? " Lucy asked me as she sat down at the table opposite me.

" Uhm, what? " confused, I lifted my eyes from my mobile phone, which I kept glancing at hopefully to be the first to hear the news about Carlos' condition.

But so far there was still no news, which slowly started to make me more and more nervous.

"I wonder if you've already posted on Instagram that Carlos has come through the operation okay," Lucy continued in a gentle voice and put her hand on my arm.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in and for me to really understand what she meant.

" W-really? " I stammered, while at the same time a huge stone fell from my heart and I began to feel the tightness in my chest, which had been there since yesterday, loosen.

" But I didn't read anything in the group. How do you know that? " I was sure I hadn't read anything, because for the last ten minutes I'd been checking the Ferrari chat on my mobile phone, hoping I hadn't missed anything.

" Fred just came up to me. He was talking to Carlos Senior. Everything went well and he's now recovering in hospital. " Lucy gave me a soft smile as her thumb gently stroked my arm.

Not only was she my best friend on the team, she was also the one who knew how close Carlos and I actually were.

When I joined the team about a year ago, Carlos was the first to welcome me with open arms and show me around.

During my first day at work, the Spaniard kept coming round to ask me how things were going.

When he invited me for a meal at the end of my first shift and listened attentively to what I had to say about my first successful day at work, a friendship developed within a few weeks.

"Thank God," I whispered quietly as a relieved smile crept onto my lips.

All your fears and worries that something could have gone wrong during the operation vanished within a few seconds.

"I'll post it straight away! " I almost shouted as I reached for my mobile phone and then opened the Ferrari Instagram account that I was partly responsible for.

One of my tasks in the team was to keep the fans up to date via Instagram and Twitter. I also had a say in the C2 Challenges on YouTube, where I always created fun content for the fans.

It wasn't long before I had chosen a photo of Carlos and typed up a short text about his condition and then posted it.

"Now I can get back to work feeling better," I mumbled as I reached for your fruit salad, which had been sitting untouched on the table in front of me, and started eating.

" I believe you. It's about time my favourite colleague was finally back at work with a smile on her face. "

Yesterday almost flew by, which was probably due to the good news that had lifted my spirits so much that I was completely back in the swing of things.

Olli had done well in the third free practice session and in qualifying, as had Charles, who would start today's race from second place.

This lifted my spirits even further, so I entered Ferrari Hospitality with a smile on my face and greeted a few of my colleagues who were already having breakfast.

"Morning sunshine," Charles greeted me with an amused smile as I stood next to him at the buffet and reached for a plate.

"Morning my favourite Monegasque," I replied brightly and then reached for a croissant.

" Do I want to know why you're shining like the non-existent sun today? " Charles asked as he reached for a bowl of muesli and then continued. " Well, actually, I know what it is..."

Charles winked and then began to waggle his eyebrow dramatically, which looked rather strange.

"Are you all right? " I asked him, while I also secured a bowl of muesli and placed it on my tray.

" I'm doing great. I'm ready for the race, but that's not the issue right now. Try not to get distracted," he almost admonished me and raised his index finger in the air in warning before continuing. "Could it be that your good mood is back thanks to Carlo's successful operation? Because since this was announced, you seem to have changed. "

" It's race day..." I tried to talk my way out of it, but I couldn't, as Charles hovered his index finger over my lips to indicate that I should be quiet.

"I'm neither stupid nor daft. I know for a fact that there's something going on between you and Carlos. It's certainly none of my business, but I can see that you're good for each other and I think that's great. Don't stop doing good for each other, okay? Okay, great! See you then! "

Before I could open my mouth to give Charles an answer, the Ferrari driver had already fled, almost running, with his tray.

Shaking my head, I looked after the Monegasques for a few seconds before I ran over to one of the free tables with my tray and began to eat my breakfast in peace.

And as I sat there eating my breakfast in comfort, my thoughts kept wandering back to Charles' words.

Were Carlos and I really on good terms? And if so, was Carlos and my behaviour really so obvious that others had probably noticed?

Once again, a tightness began to spread through my chest, so I pushed the breakfast on my tray to one side in disgust and began to sigh softly.

But before I could even begin to think about Carlos and me, Lucy appeared in front of me.

Her blonde hair lay dishevelled on her face, her cheeks shimmered red and she put her hands on her hips, out of breath.

" Lucy are you okay? " I asked cautiously and all I got in reply was a squeezed " Water. "

After I handed Lucy my water, which she drank within a few seconds and then just stood there for a few more seconds, I got nervous.

I could sense that something wasn't right and the fact that Lucy just wouldn't come out with it made me even more nervous.

" Lucy... " I almost urged as you began to shift restlessly on the chair.

" Carlos is here! " she almost shouted so loudly that one or two Ferrari employees turned to us both and looked at me in confusion.

"Sorry, I meant Carlos is here," she repeated more quietly as she dropped into the chair opposite me and rested her elbows on the table.

" What? Why is he here? He just had an operation yesterday! " I looked at the person opposite me with wide eyes as I almost jumped up.

" I have no idea! I saw a story on Instagram where he's walking through the paddock. Or should I say crawling? He can barely walk, he looks absolutely pale and like he's in pain! " she continued, making strange hand movements that I couldn't interpret at all.

" What?! " I repeated again, almost stunned, while my heart began to beat faster.

Why was he here and not resting? He couldn't be serious.

I immediately began to worry so much that I jumped up and ran off without waiting for an answer from Lucy.

" Thanks for breakfast! " she called after me, but I hardly noticed because I only had one thing on my mind. Carlos.

I kept dodging various members of other teams as I ran, keeping my eyes peeled for Carlos.

It wasn't long before I found him and a few other Ferrari employees in the pits, where he was greeted warmly with hugs and a few words.

I stayed in the background and watched Carlos from a distance. And indeed, he looked anything but well.

His posture was more hunched than upright and his face was rather pale, which occasionally even showed that he must clearly be in pain.

Why the hell wasn't he lying in bed and resting?

It took a few minutes for the Spaniard to catch sight of me. Within a few seconds, his face brightened and he literally crept over to me.

"Mariquita," he greeted me with a smile on his lips and pulled me into a warm hug shortly afterwards.

I carefully wrapped my arms around him, hoping not to cause him any more pain.

" Carlos, what are you doing here? " was the first thing I said to him.

" How about a "Oh, hello Carlos. I'm glad you're doing well and that you've come through everything okay?" " he asked as he let go of me and then leant against the wall next to me.

He seemed to find it difficult to even stand up straight. He was even still wearing his hospital bracelet. It was as if he'd literally fled from the hospital and gone straight to the track.

" Are you crazy? You had appendicitis, had to have an operation and haven't even rested for a day? You can barely walk, you look incredibly shitty and you still seem to be in pain! " I spoke in an angry voice and didn't care if anyone was listening. Because apparently I was the first person to say these words to him.

And probably the only one who was thinking straight.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure me, but he seemed to realise himself that this wasn't the case.

" No, you're not! " I looked at him seriously for a few seconds before turning on my heel and leaving.

Carlos' warm hand grabbed my arm and caused a slight electric shock to run through my body.

"I'm sorry, Mariquita. Let's talk in peace," his voice sounded soft and calm.

He carefully led me into a kind of storeroom that I had never been in before.

A few things were stored here, such as drinks and spare items for the mechanics, like a sofa that stood in the middle of the room.

Carlos slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, grimacing slightly, and then carefully pulled me next to him.

The sofa was so narrow that we sat there more or less pressed against each other and the touch of our knees and arms made my heart start beating faster again and I became slightly restless.

" You have every right to be angry with me and to worry. That's really sweet of you, but it was entirely my decision to come here. In hospital, the ceiling would have literally fallen on my head and I wanted everyone to know that I was okay."

"But you should take it easy, Carlos..." I almost mumbled and looked at the Spaniard, whose eyes were on me.

"I will, I promise," he assured me as he came a little closer to me and I felt his breath on my cheek.

Shortly afterwards, I felt his warm lips lightly on my cheek, which made the area start to tingle warmly and the heat shot up my cheek.

" I've heard from some people how worried you were about me. That was really incredibly sweet of you, Mariquita," Carlos began and gently stroked a strand of my hair behind my ear before continuing.

"We both know that there's more between us. And that's why I want to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me? " His brown eyes rested calmly on me while a soft smile formed on his lips.

His words caused chaos to awaken in my stomach, as all the butterflies that had just been lying there quietly for a long time began to awaken and turn my feelings completely upside down.

" Yes, but only if you take it easy. Otherwise you can forget the date," I replied with a partly serious and partly worried look.

It was important to me that Carlos recovered fully from the operation and regained his strength so that he would soon be fit again and able to get back into the car.

"I promise, Mariquita."

[bestedoesmeow]

SORRY, AMOUR

request: where he teases the reader playfully (like usual) but without realising she's already had a bad day, so that sort of backfires and she almost cries lol and he starts to panic making it up to her

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ ∘₊✧── ∘₊✧

"Amour, you've been lying on that bed forever. Don't you think you've had enough rest?" Charles teased as he stood in the doorway of your room, a smirk playing on his lips. You didn't turn your head to face him, but you were sure he had that playful expression. "I couldn't sleep last night. I just need a few more hours, Charles," you replied with your eyes closed, trying to fall asleep for over an hour by then. Your mind had been wandering about everything since yesterday night, from your schoolwork and exams to your and Charles's dog's illness. Despite Charles's stress about Ferrari and races, you didn't want to burden him with your own life problems. You felt they were insignificant compared to the weight he was carrying with his team's strategies.

"Why is that, chéri? Was I snoring?" Charles asked with a joking tone. While you were glad he was in a good mood after his podium in SPA, you weren't in the mood for small talk. You just hummed in response, an uneasy and almost angry reply. It was clear that you wanted him to leave you alone, as it wasn't the right time for teasing. Charles, noticing something was amiss and sensing your uneasiness, decided to take a different approach. He swiftly entered the room that you had shared for a year now and slowly sat on his side of the bed before starting to talk.

"I thought we were going to grab breakfast, chéri?" he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. However, his attempt didn't go as planned, and you reached your limit. Your priority that morning wasn't grabbing breakfast. The immense anxiety on your chest and the heavy feeling throughout your body were overwhelming.

"I don't think so. I don't feel like it. Actually, I just want to lay here and cry for a while," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion as tears began to well up in your eyes.

Charles's playful demeanor disappeared as he realized the seriousness of the situation. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently into his comforting embrace. He softly stroked your hair and whispered reassuring words, "It's okay, my love. You can take all the time you need. Let it out, and I'm here for you."

You couldn't help but let the tears flow as you clung to Charles, feeling his warmth and support. Gradually, he encouraged you to talk about what was bothering you. You opened up about the overwhelming pressure of schoolwork and exams, the worries about your dog's illness, and the constant thoughts that had kept you up all night.

Listening attentively, Charles assured you that everything would turn out alright, that he was there to help and support you through it all. He reminded you that you were not alone in facing life's challenges and that you could lean on him whenever you needed to.

As the weight on your chest began to lift, Charles noticed your mood improving slightly. He knew that sometimes all it took to bring a smile back to your face was a bit of distraction and comfort. So, he decided to do just that.

"Hey, how about we take a break from everything for a moment?" Charles suggested with a gentle smile. "I got something to cheer you up." He reached over to grab some coloring books and art supplies, knowing that you enjoyed expressing yourself through art.

He also brought out a playlist of your favorite music, hoping that the familiar tunes would help lift your spirits. As the music played softly in the background, Charles joined you in coloring, creating a relaxing and fun atmosphere.

"Je t'aime, Charles," you said, suddenly burning with the urge to reciprocate the love you felt for him.

“Je t'aime, mon amour," he whispered, Charles kissed you tenderly, his lips conveying a sense of comfort and belonging. The worries and anxieties seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of serenity in his presence

[thef1diary]

Hatred | C. Sainz

Summary: You and Carlos are teammates but cannot stand each other. But things take a turn when a championship is costed and you two finally sort out your differences.

Warnings: 18+, bratty reader, enemies to enemies with benefits, choking, coarse language, hate sex, spanking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: carlos x fem!reader

"Both Ferrari drivers are racing each other, can you believe it" the race commentator stated in disbelief. Your best friend was watching the race, watching you race wheel to wheel with your teammate. At first she wanted you to win, but now with the way things were looking, she just hoped that you safely finished the race.

You were fighting for the World Driver's Championship with no other than Max Verstappen. You, a female driver in a Ferrari, are so close tasting the victory of a championship. It was the second last race of the season, and you needed to finish second with the fastest lap to still be in the championship fight.

At the moment, you were third, behind your teammate and Max. Five laps to go.

Truth is, you and Carlos weren't very friendly this season. It was your second year and due to your phenomenal results in a car that shouldn't give constant P5 and P6 like it did, the Ferrari team principal was quite interested in your talent.

Despite the PR teams trying to get you and Carlos to film videos for challenges like he did with Charles, it never worked. On his end. You tried to be very friendly and since you were the only female driver on the grid, you wanted your teammates support. You didn't expect him to hate you from the moment he met you.

So when he listened to the team orders to let you pass through, you thought that he'd finally play the good sportsmanship card. But what you didn't expect was that after passing him, he was still on your tail using the drag reduction system to try and pass you again. Instead of complaining on the radio, you figured you would race him and show him who the better one of the two drivers truly is.

Even though you smiled and laughed with other drivers, Carlos was one you could not even have a normal conversation with without feeling the need to rip your hair out. So, racing with him when you had an almost killer instinct was much needed.

If he wasn't playing friendly, you weren't either. And to be honest, you were glad that he was putting up a fight, at least you'll be able to prove your worth instead being told that you only had a chance of winning because of your teammate.

Turning into a tight, high-speed corner, you took the inside line, braking late and hoping to turn out in the front. The seconds went by really slow when you heard the impact before you felt it. His Ferrari had hit the rear end of yours, causing debris to fall from your car and a puncture which made your car spin out of control. You held your breath and tried to control the car as best as you could until the car came to a stop which was when it crashed into the barriers.

Some parts of the barrier had landed on top of the front of your car, making it harder to get out. You immediately turned off the car but stayed for a few moments. Trying to wrap your head around the events that happened.

Not even one minute ago, you were fighting for the championship and now, you were out of it.

You hit your hand on the steering wheel multiple times before hearing the voice of your race engineer asking you if you were okay. You responded "fine" in a monotone voice which sounded completely different than your usual tone.

You were told to step out of the car just in case there was a leak which was undetermined at the moment. You sighed, taking off the steering wheel and climbing out of the car. After getting out, you noticed that your teammate's car was no where to be seen which only meant one thing, his car wasn't as damaged as yours which meant he could still race.

One of the marshals led you away from the track and car so you could safely begin your journey to walk to the pits which wasn't too far. You could feel the stares of the fans as you were walking by but didn't have the strength to wave to them. You also felt two cameramen following you. You knew one was for the live broadcast of the race but the other was Netflix.

You hung your head low, not even wanting to take off your helmet yet but you were fuming from anger. You didn't want people to see that.

By the time you got back to the pits, the race was over which was expected as there were only a few laps left. You looked at the board and saw Max was still first, as expected. His teammate was second now because he moved up two spots after the crash. Lewis came in third. Carlos had fell further down the grid, a few places out of the points. The podium celebrations were about to happen soon but you were far from being in a celebratory mood.

Once you got to the garage, you had to weigh yourself with your helmet in hand then you saw your teammate talking to the team principal. You felt your anger take over you and you stalked towards him, pointing a finger right in his face. "You. You're an asshole, an idiot, what did I ever do to you! What did you get out of this huh? A championship?" You scoffed, placing both of your palms on his shoulders and pushing him slightly.

"Fuck off!" He responded which only added fuel to the fire. Instead of accepting his mistake, he chose to tell you off. "don't you dare" you felt someone holding you back and your team principal decided to interfere by saying "it was just a mistake, cool off. Away from each other"

Unbelievable. He would always point out your mistakes even if they were very small.

"Just a mistake? It cost me the fucking championship!" You yelled which silenced everyone in the garage. You slowly looked around and no one dared to make eye contact with you at the moment. Not even Carlos.

Your PR manager placed a hand on your shoulder to lead you towards your drivers room but you brushed it off and left the garage.

Not even ten minutes later, your PR manager stopped by to inform you about the post race interviews which were necessary to attend. You didn't change out of your race suit, just tied the sleeves together on your waist. On the way, she told you about the things you shouldn't answer and to "play nice".

You were hit with so many questions during the interviews and at the moment, you were probably even more popular than Max who won the race. Not in a good way though.

"How do you feel losing a championship because of your teammate?", "do you think the situation could be sorted out differently?", "we heard the team orders given to Carlos, do you think he is a good teammate?", "is this your last year with Ferrari?", "how many years does your contract last?", "do you think you'd be treated differently by both your team and teammate if you weren't a woman?"

All those questions made your head spin but you tried to answer them as best as you could. You were exhausted both physically and mentally. Thinking back to the moments you had to compromise to get better results later, the team orders you had to follow, and the strategies you thought would be better but no one listened. One questioned loomed in your mind "is this your last year with Ferrari?" Since this was your first year with Ferrari, you had initially signed a three year long contract which meant you had two more years to go.

You met up with your friend as she was waiting for you in your drivers room. As soon as you saw her, you broke down into tears and embraced her. You didn't have to tell her what happened in the garage since she witnessed it. She wiped your tears, and made a plan to drown yourselves in alcohol and snacks in your hotel room.

You parted ways for now but she will be joining you later tonight. As soon as you got to your hotel room, you immediately took a shower to freshen up. You checked your phone which was bombarded with many texts from your family and friends who watched the race live. You also received some messages from fans, some hateful, some supporting you. As usual.

You also received messages from Lewis, Daniel, and Sebastian. The three drivers who have made it their mission to ensure you're comfortable in the male dominated sport.

You heard a knock on the door and you expected it to be your best friend, but when you opened it, it was your teammate. "I'm really not in the mood to talk to you"

"Then just listen?" He raised his eyebrows in expectation. You opened the door further and let him in. What was the worst that could happen? Another fight? This time you could punch him in the face if he said something stupid and no one can stop you.

"I'm sorry" Carlos started and you nodded, urging him on. "I know you were fighting for the championship and I ruined that"

"Yes, you did" you responded. "Is that all you're saying?" he asked which confused you. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe accept my apology?" He stated in an oblivious tone. And there it was, Carlos could not be nice for a single conversation.

"There's no point. You'll do something like this again and we'll be in this situation again"

"Technically you could prevent it"

"Me? What about you? See this is why we're never getting along" you pointed at him.

Carlos stepped closer to you and held your chin between his thumb and first finger. "You're such a brat"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes "and what are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you" he stated before placing his lips on yours, harshly.

You did not expect that but you weren't complaining either. Reciprocating the kiss with the same intensity, you wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand playing and pulling on his hair. He groaned in your mouth, wanting to regain control which made him pick you up effortlessly.

He had changed out of his race suit, wearing just a tee shirt and sweatpants. Dropping you on the bed once you two ran out of breath, he looked at you with a specific look in his eyes. It wasn't love, no, far from it. It was hate. You held yourself up by your elbows, spreading your legs a bit because you expected him to join you.

"Strip for me" he commanded. You stayed still, trying to process his words but he was rather impatient. "Did you not hear me? I said strip. Now" he took advantage of your spread legs and slapped the inside of your thigh.

That movement made you jerk and you started to take off your clothes. First your pants, then your shirt. He was quite surprised to see that you weren't wearing anything under your shirt. You had just taken a shower and were planning on chilling in your room anyways, there was no point of a bra.

You pointed at him and urged him to come closer which he listened to. He slid his body in between your spread legs and started kissing your neck. Kiss wouldn't be the right word, Carlos was sucking on it til marks were made. He wasn't being nice. And you were loving every bit of it.

You bit your lip to suppress the moans he was trying to get out of you. Playing with the hem of his shirt, you pulled it over his head. Your hands roamed around his tanned chest and back. You tried to flip your position, but he held you underneath him. "Brats don't get what they want" he muttered in your ear before his hand roamed near your panties.

His fingers played with the waistband, pulling it out and letting it snap on your waist making you groan due to the pleasurable pain. His fingers then went down to slide over your covered clit, rubbing it at the same time as he took your nipple in your mouth.

You didn't know where to focus since you could feel the pleasure everywhere. His teeth grazed your nipple making you arch your back then he sucked on it hard. You knew you were very wet by now, but he also knew since his fingers were slick as they played with your pussy over your panties.

"Carlos" you moaned his name. "What do you want?" He asked once he left your breast alone, after scattering marks on it. "You"

"You have me" he chuckled once he saw you trying to focus on reaching your edge with the way he was barely touching you. "I need more. Please touch me"

His fingers moved your panties to the side and slowly spread your fold which were embarrassingly slick. "Do our fights make you wet? Is that why you like arguing with me?" He asked as he lightly hit your pussy with his palm, making you jerk in response. "Tell me" his other hand held your jaw, making direct eye contact with you. He slid his fingers inside you, two of them. Watching as your mouth opened in a silent moan.

You shook your head, answering his question. He didn't like that. "No, so you don't look for any dumb reason to fight with me? Just to get yourself off? You've touched yourself thinking about me right?"

You were about to speak up but he interrupted "don't lie. I've heard you" you didn't have a response to that. Because it was true.

"Are you going to keep talking or do something Sainz?" You countered.

He clenched his jaw and pulled his fingers out of you. "On your hands and knees" he instructed. You smiled, finally getting a rise out of him. You turned over, looking back at him with a smirk that he was so eager to wipe off your face.

He took off his sweatpants and boxers, and you almost drooled at the sight of him stroking his cock. He leaned on the bed and lined himself up, sliding his cock in-between your folds. You groaned and muttered his name, trying to get him to do something. "So desperate for my cock" he brought his palm down on your ass harshly which made you move forward. You nodded desperately "yes" you whined.

He slowly pushed his cock in you, hearing your sweet moans. "Fuck. You feel so good"

You started moving your hips according to his slow but harsh thrusts. He placed open-mouthed kisses down your back, occasionally biting you.

He trailed his hand up your body and wrapped it around your neck from the front. Carlos felt you tighten around his cock and from the increasing amount of moans you released, he figured that your liked being choked. He was already planning on teasing you with this information.

His other hand played with your clit, rubbing it in small but agressive circles that made you squirm in his grasp. You chanted his name like a prayer, not even realizing how loud you were because the feeling of pleasure consumed you.

You could feel yourself on edge but you just needed something more. You begged him for more and he listened. His thrusts became faster but also sloppier, indicating that he was close to his orgasm as well. The hand that was choking you, came down to slap your ass again which you didn't expect at all. Since he wasn't holding you up anymore, you pressed your face against the mattress. Bunching the sheets up in your palm, you went over the edge.

Carlos didn't stop as he was chasing his own release but it also built towards your second orgasm. He quickly pulled out and turned you over to face him. Entering you again, he pressed his lips against you to swallow both yours and his moans.

One of your hands were up in his hair, pulling at the strands while the other was trailing down his back. His hand was still at your clit, rubbing circles on it. You reached your second orgasm as soon as you felt his release.

He was holding himself up by both his forearms and looking down at you. "I still hate you" you stated.

"I know. I hate you too" he replied and pressed a kiss against your lips.

Pulling out, he rolled over beside you. You laid there for a moment before he got up and you thought that he would get dressed and leave. Instead, he went to the bathroom and brought a cloth to clean you up. You didn't know why you felt that moment of sadness when you thought he'd leave. This was nothing but a hate fuck. Right?

He tossed the cloth somewhere else and laid down beside you again. This time, he pulled you into him and was dozing off. You were too, after all the sun had set many hours ago. You didn't check your phone to see the time either. Well, even if you wanted to, you couldn't because Carlos wrapped his arm around you, making you the little spoon.

You could hear him lightly snore and you thought that would irritate you, but instead it lulled you to sleep.

Teammates who hated each other, who still claim to hate each other, are sleeping peacefully in one bed. Naked.

[thatsdemko]

just an incident - m.verstappen

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: max verstappen x leclerc!fem!reader

warnings: hints of some friends to lovers trope + google translated French and Dutch + wrote this BEFORE the Monaco 2023 gp!

a/n: I cannot remember who it was that said most Dutch don’t use nicknames like “angel” or “baby” but I didn’t feel like changing the pet names so my apologies 😬 had a lil dream about this so enjoy xx

it really wasn’t supposed to happen. at least you didn’t want it to happen, but he most certainly did.

growing up he was your brothers biggest competitor and challenge. race tracks weren’t the same when max verstappen was on the circuit, and that was still true to this day. max became a menace and impossible to beat in that Red Bull, it made loving him in secret and supporting your brother in public harder.

because every race meant listening to that Dutch national anthem while your brother told off his team for the shit race. it meant spending long nights in the Ferrari garage rather than the ones in his hotel room celebrating his victory. loving max verstappen was not easy.

“mijn engel wat zit je dwars?” he asks, fingers gently brushing down the skin of your back. you’re sitting upright in his bed, pillow covering your chest as you scroll through the chain of text messages from your brothers. you could never have a peaceful evening alone without one of them calling or texting. my angel what's bothering you?

“mes frères.” you grumble tossing your phone into the pile of clothes on the ground before relaxing against his chest, “but I’m all yours now.” you press a kiss to his jawline, watching those beautiful green eyes close in contentment.

“why don’t you tell them about us? are you that worried?” his arm wraps around your shoulders allowing you to sink further against him. he knows Charles would have heart failure hearing his baby sister was more than just a friend with max, and it would give him all more of a reason to push him off the track or do risky overtakes. racing wouldn’t be the same for Charles or max, and maybe he hadn’t thought of that, but you certainly did.

“I’m more worried that I’d be stealing his boyfriend from him.” you joke watching the lines around his eyes crinkle, smile forming on his lips. you loved that smile dearly.

“we broke up a long time ago.”

—

“you go missing? been trying to call you for hours.” Lorenzo doesn’t even need to look up from his computer to know it’s you entering the house. just by the sound of your silent footsteps and nails tapping against your phone, he knew it couldn’t be anybody else.

especially since he began to pick up you were beginning to be late or no shows recently. you would push off family dinner for said alone time or show up to family game night a half an hour late. he wasn’t one to budge into your life and ask the questions, but seeing as things were drastically shifting he felt he needed in.

“what? no, just needed some extra sleep.” your lies weren’t getting any better, he knew the high pitch tone and small stutters were nothing but false words.

“you think to run a brush through your hair?” he scoffs seeing the snarls and tiny mats that you didn’t notice. you’re lucky your mother wasn’t home or else she’d have fainted at the sight.

“why are you in my business?” you ask making him finally look up from his laptop to see the purple faint bruises against your collarbone. there was no sleeping in for you, and he couldn’t help not fighting the smirk against his lips as he pulls the cup of coffee up to try and mask it.

“just go take a shower before Charles and Arthur come home, please?”

you listen to his request and find the warm water against your aching body and sensitive skin comforting. his nail marks at your hips were fresh, the pull in your groins were painful in the steam, and the purple bruises at your collarbone weren’t going to be easy to cover up. it was evident max wanted your family to know about him, whether you would actually drop his name was up to you.

the thick sweatshirt of Arthur’s that you stole covers what you wanted, and the baggy sweatpants you borrowed from max masked your shaking quads with each step. maybe you did miss being home, but you were missing that Dutch accent and being under the gaze is his big green eyes.

“when did you get back?” Arthur asks, head peaking into your room where he sees you tapping away on your phone, a little smile evident against your lips.

“this morning. how was work with Charles?” you turn around to see him moving in your room. Arthur was like your best friend, growing up one year apart, he was the closest thing you had sometimes, and lying to him about your relationship wasn’t easy.

“good, we ran into max.” even his name made your heart skip beats, you shifted uncomfortably against your bed trying to not make it obvious you were eager to hear how he was— despite having seen him only hours ago— or if he mentioned you.

“and?” you ask swallowing nervously, Arthur shifts against the doorframe with a shrug, “he’s alright, just prepping for Monaco.”

you let out a tiny sigh of relief nodding, “good for him I guess, I kind of hope he loses.” you lie biting your tongue and hear a laugh from Charles across the hall, “me too!” he calls out.

—

“you hope I lose? I heard that rumor by the way.” his voice startled you making you turn around to face him. he’s in his suit and tie, dressed his finest just like yourself. the expensive gala you were in was packed to the brim and you had lost all of your family members minutes ago when you spotted the Red Bull drivers appearance.

“you know I want you to win.” you move a little closer to him, his hand discreetly rests against your hip and he presses a friendly kiss to your cheek that you wish could be a little more than that in public.

“hoe gaat het met mijn meisje?” he leans into your ear, the soft whisper leaves a tingling sensation down your spine making your body curl closer to him. how’s my girl?

“il manque juste ta touche.” you reply, hand resting against his chest, nervously adjusting his crooked tie. you know people are staring and cameras are recording, but under his gaze you feel protected. those big hands and aggressive demeanor would go to war for you against anyone here. just missing your touch

he chuckles under his breath, “you have all of me, my love.” his lips press your temple quickly, before excusing himself to shake hands with Sergio Perez, his teammate.

you move out of the way when the cameras begin to flash and interviewers move in to ask questions to the Red Bull drivers. you find yourself watching from the sidelines beside Daniel, but his eyes always find you. a wink in your direction let’s you know he hasn’t lost sight.

“flirty with my man?” Daniel nudges your elbow gently, making you break your stare at the lady who’s getting to close to max for a picture.

“flirty? no, he was winking at you.” you laugh watching max pull Charles in for a photo with the two drivers. three of them smiling proudly for the cameras before Charles pulls away, a little dizzy from all the flashing.

“hm, I don’t recall him making sexy eyes at me in our contract.” daniel pushes you in the direction of max. now that the photos were done, you could tell he was looking for you, but of course Charles whisks him away before you both can close the gaps between each other.

“you think you’ll win in my circuit?” charles jokingly asks. pulling max out from the mass crowds of people, you were trailing behind the two of them pushing through bodies to join them.

max scoffs, “I can’t predict the outcome of this race, mate. we’ll just have to wait and see.” the Dutchman sees you push through a few people and he extends his hand to help you before you stumble into Carlos.

“yeah, well with my luck I’ll be last.”

“no Oscar and lando will make sure you aren’t.” max chuckles, the two make faces at each other before the tipsy giggles escape their lips. you wish all nights were like this, the two of them happy and not pinning each others successes for their failures.

“what will you do if you win?” you ask Charles stepping a little closer to their conversation watching him think. you look up at max who’s thinking through if he should put his hand against your back, maybe pull you closer to him.

“I don’t know yet. maybe take maman out to dinner? this is all hypothetical.”

max nods, hand finally resting against your lower back, “well if I win I think I’ll take a special someone out for dinner.” he pulls you closer to his chest, your arms unconsciously wrapping around his torso.

“oh? who is that?” charles asks, and it has yet to hit him. he’s clueless to Max’s hand resting on your ass, your arms around his torso, and his lips pressing into your hair. charles was clearly oblivious.

“me, idiot.” you scoff finally getting his attention, his eyes scan each part of your bodies and how close you were together. he looks lost, like a puppy trying to find home as the dogs finally connect with what’s in front of him.

“no! when did this happen?!”

“it was just an incident.” max shrugs, there was no other way to describe it. the pieces just fell into place and max verstappen somehow became the man you loved more than just in the dark, he was someone you were beginning to love in public.

“don’t use my words against me.”

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Checo Perez with wife reader? He had some insecurity about his abilities to race against the grid and she just hugged and comforted him. Add something else to it if you want to. Tag me later Thanks!! :))

The pressure is insane… - Sergio Perez x Wife! Reader

Plot: Checo replacing Alex was probably the best thing to happen to him in his Formula One career. However, so much pressure comes from being in that second Red Bull seat, not just the team but the fans too, and Checo doesn’t like the pressure on him.

Credit to checorita for the GIF

When Checo came into the seat, and performance wasn’t great, people in the team told him it would be fine and to keep his head up because everyone knew he was getting used to how different the Red Bull Car is thanks to Max’s driving style.

But at it came to his second season, and it didn’t seem like things were improving much, Christian kept talking to him, explaining what was expected of him as if he hadn’t already informed him over 100 times.

He was just struggling with a car that was clearly built for their main driver, which is why Pierre crumbled under pressure and it’s why they couldn’t put up with Alex when he didn’t learn the car quick enough for them.

The gave Checo the benefit of the doubt throughout 2022, but when Red Bulls most dominant season came around it was without a doubt that your husband had to step up.

And in your eyes he had, getting two race wins under his belt, but he wasn’t consistent enough for Christian and it seemed that he wanted Checo to be actually challenging Max more.

It got worse when the Ferrari and McLaren started to beat him despite being in the worse car, and it was deemed a ‘driver issue’

Sergio felt awful, for a man who had been racing for as long as he had, he never felt doubtful of his abilities to put on a show and drive to the best of his ability.

But now, in the Red Bull seat, he actually understood the words ‘under pressure’ because he was under it constantly.

“Baby what’s wrong with you, you’ve been jittery all week” you ask your husband who was currently watching over some of his old races with a notepad.

“Hmmm?” He asks not even throwing a glance in your direction.

You knew he wasn’t listening.

“Well I just think that when aliens invade Earth that we should have a bunker ready and prepared so that you and I can help create a new civilisation after the government kill them all …” you say trying to grab a reaction from him.

“Hmmm yeah that’s really nice” he starts but then he looks up and his head cocks to the side as if his brain just processed the words you said. “Wait what?” He asks.

You chuckle and little bit happy to have his attention.

“I just wanted to see if you were listening, I asked what’s been up with you lately” you say softly, taking a seat next to him, reaching over to grab the remote and pause the race he was observing so his full attention was on you.

“Nothing wrong, I’m fine” he lies.

“Hermoso, we’ve been married for 6 years, I know when somethings up” you smile taking his hand into yours and kissing the back of it softly while watching for his reaction.

“I just … nevermind it’s stupid” he sighs looking down.

“None of your feelings are stupid baby, please let me in” you say calmly.

“I just feel like, I’m so singled out on the grid. You’ve got so many amazing drivers and then there’s me. Lewis is a 7x world champion, and and Max my own team mate has won 2, and he’s probably going to win this year by a landslide and then there’s Fernando again he has two championships, and then you’ve got all this new talent in Lando, and Charles and Carlos and now that Oscar is here, it’s getting tough” he admits and you softly smile at him.

“Where have all these doubts come from honey?” You ask, you knew he didn’t think he was the best driver, but he never once compared his abilities to individual drivers.

“Christian said that if I didn’t improve he’d replace me with Yuki, Liam or Daniel and that i might not even get a AlphaTauri seat as a replacement” he says putting his face in his hands with a soft sigh.

You pull him into a hug in which he nuzzles his head into your neck.

You are an incredible driver, there’s just such an insane amount of talent on the grid right now, you being one of them. World champion or not baby, your still one of only 20 drivers in the world that are here! Your a race winner and I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. You are incredible” you smile wrapping your arms around him while you feel him shake a little, presumably where he’s crying.

“Im just awful at it all. Driving, being a husband … you’ve been asking for a baby for 3 years and I keep telling you no because I’m so career focused but I can’t even seem to be good at that career” he complains and you almost laugh.

“Oh honey, I think you forget you are without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me, child or no child. And where you aren’t ready because your at a point in your career that is crucial, I’ll always understand that darling. You are all I need, you are all I want. And I married you because I’m happy with you” you say tightening your hold on him.

“You know, I would never not be ready to have a kid. If you want one, we can have one. I’d never say no” he argues wiping his eyes and looking at you, only for you to release a breath of relief.

“Thank god, that night in Saudi Arabia really stuck” you admit and he cocks his head to the side not understanding. You take his hand and place it on your stomach, there wasn’t much of a bump, but a slight and minuscule weight gain was there. Enough that when he run his hand over your tummy he could feel it.

“Are you saying?” He asks and you nod.

“I know, I know it’s not the right time because your so stressed and I’ve been so nervous to tell you because I know you’ve had a lot on your plate since being in Red Bull and it was such a shock to me” you start to ramble thinking you should have waited.

“No this is the best news ever! This has made my day, my week, my year even!” He smiles before lifting you up and twirling you round.

“I love you” he says pulling you in for a kiss, happy with life.

And now he didn’t have anything to worry about, as long as he was able to provide for you and your child or children in the future he knew he could handle the pressure because now there was something else riding on it!

A/N: hey guys I didn’t realise tumblr only lets you do 50 tags per post! So I’m not sure what to do about taglist anymore? Any suggestions?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[writtenfangirl]

Secrets and Good Luck Charms

Plus size!Reader, angsty turning fluffy

Listen, as a plus size woman myself, I know that the chances of an F1 driver being attracted to me is close to 0, especially when they're literally always surrounded by supermodels. But I can live in my delulu era, even for a little while.

I challenged myself to create a fic with top-tier begging and I genuinely hope I accomplished that cause this was so much fun to write.

Enjoy!

Part 2

“Charles, I think we should break up.”

The words left her in a sudden whoosh, ceasing her boyfriend mid-story. His apartment went quiet, and Y/N felt the little hairs on her arms rise but her goosebumps wasn’t from the cold. 

Charles’s luminous green eyes widened.“What?”

A part of her wished she could take the words back, snatch them from the air where they hung heavy like smoke. But she’d been building up her courage all week and she wasn’t about to back down now just because he flashed those beautiful green eyes that Charles knew she could never resist. She said the words slower, kinder. “I think we should break up.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me, Cha.”

And there was the truth, the conviction that had Y/N’s resolve strengthening. Charles could deny it all he wants but Y/N knew the truth, deep down. He was ashamed of her. It was a truth that had been sitting in her chest for the better part of 9 months and it was a truth that had begun to eat at her as their relationship progressed. 

He said his next words slowly, like a child struggling to learn new words in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “What would make you say that?” 

She kept her own tone even, betraying none of the hurt that sat heavy in her chest. “Because, Cha. We’ve been together 9 months, close to a year, and yet you have never introduced me to your mother or your brothers. Not even to your friends. No posts on social media, no mention of my existence at all.”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

“I do want my privacy.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want to end things!” His voice grew in octave and Y/N could see him fighting to keep his calm.

“Because, Cha,” she said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice, “you’re ashamed of me. I don’t care that you post me on social media or not. I don’t care if the world knows about us. If you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye, that’s fine. I know you’re doing it to protect my feelings and I appreciate it, I do. But, you refuse to let me meet your friends or your family for that matter. They’re the people that matter to me because they’re the people that matter to you. But I’ve never met them, even after you’ve met mine! And I’m—“ she took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the hurt that threatened to have tears spilling from her eyes. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when they’re ashamed of me.”

“I am not—“

“Don’t deny it, Cha, please. It hurts even more if you do.”

His mouth snapped shut. There was confusion in his face, and maybe a bit of hurt, but Y/N saw the truth in them too. The shame that coated his eyes like paint.

“I know I’m not conventionally beautiful like your exes.” Y/N said, her words soft. “They’re thin and slender and they’re beautiful. They really are. Models and influencers that I could never compete with and I’m okay with that because you were okay with that. But I see now that you’re not. You don’t like that I’m big, that I have a stomach and huge thighs. You don’t like that I have stretch marks and rolls. And you know what, it’s fine. If you prefer thinner girls, it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you because I know some people just have preferences and it’s okay. But I refuse to ever change myself and hate myself just to fit into a person’s standards. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of my body, I can’t do that anymore, Cha. I love you and you are literally the man of my dreams but I love myself too, and I love myself too much to let someone do this to me.”

“You can’t just leave me. I love you.” Charles rushed the words out as if somehow, his words would stop Y/N.

“I don’t doubt your love for me, Cha. Not one moment. I know you love me. But you don’t take me on dates in public places where people can see us. When we do go out in public, you keep a physical distance between us. You never even so much as look at me unless you have to. I’ve never met a single one of your friends, work related or not. I don’t think you’ve even mentioned to them that you were with someone. Never met Arthur or Lorenzo and I’ve definitely never met Pascale. You love me in secret and that’s not okay.”

He reached for her hand but Y/N pulled away. The hurt that flashed in his eyes made her want to tell him to forget about her confession, forget about what she said so they can return to normal but Y/N knew she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to do what was best for her, to love a man who loved her so much he had to shout it from the rooftops. 

“Y/N, please—“

“It’s okay, Charles.” She stood up from where she sat, pushing down her own feelings as Charles looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really, no hard feelings. Let’s just forget that this, us, ever happened. I wish you good luck with everything, I really do. I’ll pray to every God that exists that you become a world champion with Ferrari. I’ll always root for you.” 

“Y/N, wait—“

But she fled the apartment before he could say anymore.

And Charles Leclerc is out of the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix! I have to say, Crofty. Leclerc’s string of bad luck and terrible performance has really been a blow to Ferrari’s morale as of late. It really is such a horrible way to end the first half of the season, especially after such an incredible six months! It truly is such a shame. With the way things are going, what was once a tight race for the championship between Verstappen and Leclerc could simply become Verstappen’s third world championship.  Let’s hope the summer break gives him the clarity of mind he needs to get his head back in the game and the championship race back on track. 

Charles wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was losing and it wasn’t his car or his team or their strategies.

His abysmal performance could only be blamed on one person and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Y/N. 

Because really, the only person to be blamed was himself. 

Because she was right. 

And he hated that she was right. 

He never thought he was the kind of person who was vain or who particularly cared about the opinions of others. He knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the media and while he justified keeping his relationship with her private by believing that Y/N was a private person, he couldn’t justify hiding her from his friends and family. 

It didn’t even really matter to him what she looked like. He loved Y/N, not for her body but for her soul. He was the moth attracted to her bright flame and he would have gladly let himself burn if it meant feeling the heat of her touch on his skin. She was kindness and warmth and compassion all rolled into one person, the kind of person people wished God made more of. 

And he found her beautiful. Yes, she wasn’t thin but he never cared about that before. Y/N was beautiful in his eyes. The kind of beauty meant to be admired in paintings. Her soft, curvaceous body and her sweet face made her beautiful. She may not have fit society’s standards but she fit his and that’s all that mattered. That’s all that should have mattered. 

So why did her words, her accusations, cut him so deep?

Was she right? Was he ashamed of her? 

“Mate, you okay?” 

Carlos’s voice broke him out of his reverie. It wasn’t like Charles to get distracted from the matter at hand, but his mind kept wandering to his girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend.

“You’ve been distracted.” Max noted. 

It was the summer break, a rare time in their hectic lives when they got a chance to take a breather. One of the drivers, Charles couldn’t remember who but he suspected it was George, had arranged a little get together for them. Alone time on a remote island in the tropics far from the prying eyes of their fans and the media. Not all of the drivers could make it, but those that could brought their girlfriends with them. The irony wasn’t lost on Charles that he was the only single man in an island full of couples. 

It was the kind of outing he would have wanted to include Y/N in but wouldn’t have, choosing instead to stay at home so they could spend some time alone. It never occurred to him if Y/N would have wanted to come. 

“I’m fine,” was his only brusque reply. 

“You don’t seem fine.” Pierre chimed in. 

Charles tried not to scowl. The other drivers were his friends as much as they were his co-workers and competitors. He grew up racing and competing with most of them. Max, George, Alex, Lando and especially Pierre, were constant figures in his life. If there was anyone who could help him, who could understand him, it would be them.

But it was so hard to accept the help when Charles was so… down. 

He looked at his friends, saw the expectant looks on their faces and sighed. 

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” The words left him before he had a chance to think about it. 

His friends’ expectant expressions turned into surprise before shifting to mild curiosity. 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Pierre’s frown could only be described as hurt. Not that Charles could blame him. Pierre was his best friend and the first person who supported him when it came to his relationships. The fact that Charles kept his girlfriend a secret probably hurt him more than he let on.

“No one knew,” Charles said reassuringly. “Not my brothers and not maman.”

“So you were only together for a short while,” Carlos guessed. “What’s the big deal?”

Charles couldn’t blame Carlos for assuming that Y/N was only in his life for a while since he never told them she existed but the insinuation hurt all the same.

“We were together close to a year. 9 months actually.”

“That long?” Alex asked, surprised. “Usually you introduce your girlfriends after two months. You kept her a secret for nine months?”

Charles winced. What sort of excuse did he have for keeping her a secret? No flimsy excuse could ever justify what he did. 

“Why did she end things?” Max asked him. 

Dread pooled in Charles’ stomach. What does he even say? He looked at his friends, at their earnest and open expressions. He knew no matter what he says, they won’t judge him. Or at least, not to his face. 

“She ended things because she thinks I’m ashamed of her.“ Charles’ admission tasted like metal in his tongue. 

“Why would you be ashamed of her?” George asked, raising a quizzical brow.

“Because she’s nothing like my exes. She’s not thin or slender, she’s full bodied. I’ve never introduced her to any of you, not even to my family. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen next to her.”

“Are you?” Lando asked, judgement ripe on his face. 

“No!” Charles’ defense was quick. “I am not ashamed of her. I never have been! I’m… I’m more ashamed of myself. That I didn’t reassure her. I’m ashamed that I did something that made her feel bad. I hate that I did that to her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce her to us and your family anyway?” Carlos asked this time. 

“Because with her, I feel real. I feel different. A good different. And I know how cruel people can be. I know you might not have judged her and I know if my brothers and maman met her, they would love her. Maman, especially. But if I introduced her to you, then that’s one step closer to introducing her to the world. I was scared she couldn’t take the attention and run.”

“Is she why you’ve been so bad in track lately?” Max asked. 

Charles simply nodded before closing his eyes and rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Well there’s only one thing you can do,” George said in that tone he uses when he thinks he knows best. “You have to go after her. Go back to her and beg her to take you back.”

“And then what?” Charles snapped, unable to stop himself from voicing out the fear that’s been plaguing his mind, “She’ll still be watched by the media. Y/N is soft and she is kind. I don’t know what I would do if people say bad things about her and I know they will. I’ve dated literal supermodels and people were mean. What more someone like her? If someone insulted her in front of me, I might actually commit assault.”

“Mate, that’s up to her and you to talk about it,” Max said. “You can’t really take the choice away from her. If you love this girl, then be with her. Fuck what other people think.”

“Charles, all that matters to us is that you are happy. If she makes you happy, then we will be happy,” Pierre reassured. “You don’t have to worry about us. This girl doesn’t happen to be an ax-wielding psychopath, right?”

The rest of their group winced at Pierre’s poor attempt at a joke but Charles smiled nonetheless. Trust Pierre to always try his best to lighten the mood. “No, she’s kind of perfect actually. I really love her.”

“Then go to her so you can get your head back in the game and beat Max in the championship,” Carlos urged. 

“I don’t know about beating me,” Max smirked and the topic of their conversation shifted to playful jibes and jokes. But Charles’ mind stayed on Y/N, at his friends encouraging words and before his mind could reconcile what his body was doing, he was already on his feet, heading to one of the yachts moored on the island. 

“Where are you going?” Pierre called out as he ran from his friends, towards the woman he loved. 

Charles answered, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “To get my girl!”

When Y/N heard the frantic knocking on her apartment door at 1AM, she expected the worst. 

Which of her family had died? Which of her friends was laying in a ditch somewhere with their car wrapped around a tree? What was the tragedy so urgent, so horrific, that it couldn’t wait until the next day and had to knock on her door at 1AM in the morning?

But when she opened the door, all she saw was Charles, eyes wide and frantic. 

“Cha?” Y/N asked, not quote believing her bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her face, bringing his mouth on hers in a searing kiss that had Y/N’s eyes shuttering close and her breath leaving her lungs. 

She tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the searing heat of his hands on her skin as his tongue swept across her mouth, kissing her as if he was underwater and she was the siren able to grant him his oxygen. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her heart deciding what her mind already knew but refused to believe. 

She had missed him, wholeheartedly. And she knew that if Charles ever came knocking back, her self restraint would crumble like chalk on pavement. She would accept him, consequences be damned. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted when she pulled away, her mind racing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles, I don’t understand. What are you doing here? I thought you were—“

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” he insisted, his grip on her tightening, like he was afraid that letting go would cause her to disappear. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. Cherie, tu es belle. Je suis vraiment désolé. Je n'ai jamais eu l'intention de te blesser.”

“Charles, slow down,” Y/N urged, pulling him into her tiny apartment and closing the door behind her. Her french was rudimentary at best and with how fast he was talking, she was struggling to translate what he said. “You’re speaking in French. I don’t understand.”

“You are beautiful.” He blurted, stopping Y/N in her tracks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you but I did anyway and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not ashamed of you but I am ashamed of how I acted. Forgive me, cherie, please. Please take me back.”

“Charles—“ Her phone trilled from where it was charging in her living room and Y/N pulled away from Charles it, ignoring her best friend's flashing face and clicking the red button to silence it.

“You deserve better than me, I know,” he continued, “and I know I don’t deserve you. But I will do everything I can to at least be deserving of your forgiveness. Please, Y/N. Say you forgive me.”.

“Charles—“ her phone rang again and with a growl of frustration, Y/N grabbed it, answering it upon seeing her best friend’s face flashing. “Y/BFF/N, I can’t talk right now. I'm in the middle of—“

“Did you see?” Y/BFF/N said frantically on the other end, causing Y/N to frown. “Tell me you saw it!”

She sent Charles an apologetic look as she answered. “Saw what?”

“Check Charles’ instagram! And I mean, right the fuck now! Call me back when you do.” And she hung up. 

Y/N glanced at Charles before following her best friend’s instructions, opening up the app and searching for Charles’ account. When she saw her picture on the first square, Y/N’s eyes snapped to Charles. 

“You told your friends about us,” Y/N said, stunned.

“I told the world about us,” he clarified. “I never told anyone because I was selfish. I am not ashamed of you. I never have been, never will be. I was scared because introducing you to my family and my friends means that you’re one step closer to being known to the world and I was scared you would run from all of it. From the fame, from the mean comments. It’s happened before and I didn’t want it to happen again, especially not to you. I’m not naive. If people can be mean and ruthless to girls who look like Charlotte and Alexandra, what more you? I thought I was protecting you. I don’t ever want you to leave. Please, come back to me.“

“I can’t believe you told everyone about us.” Y/N still sounded dumbfounded, even to her own ears. 

Charles gave her watery smile. “People should know about you and the love I have for you.”

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what it is about Charles that could have her melting into a puddle on the floor. She's been with good looking men before and none of them ever had that effect on her. But his confession, his conviction, had her abandoning her phone's incessant notifications, her arms automatically wrapping around Charles' neck, pulling him to her. His hands rested on her waist, ghosting down her back.

And, despite herself, Y/N felt her lips pulling into a soft smile. “You know, when I went to bed a while ago, I wasn’t expecting to see my ex knocking at my door, begging me to take him back at one in the morning. Especially since I know he’s suppose to be somewhere in the tropics on vacation.“ 

“Begging?” Charles raised a brow, almost in challenge, a small smile playing at his lips. Mirth and hope mixed in his green eyes and Y/N knew that there was never any chance she couldn’t accept his apology. 

She nodded, her smile turned teasing. “Oh, yeah, definitely begging. Groveling at my feet, asking for forgiveness. Never seen anything like it, to be honest. You know, some girls have a thing for that and I never really understood it before but now, I kinda do. I might not forgive him just so I can listen to him beg again.” 

“You are a cruel woman,” Charles said as he pulled her closer to him, his hands warm on her waist, his nose barely touching her own as his breath tickled her mouth.

“Is that what you’d call the woman willing to forgive you?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “Even after she knows you’re only begging for forgiveness because of your losing streak? You did always call me your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those things?”

“When it comes to you, I’ll believe in anything and anyone,” he said seriously before he grinned, wide and infectious. The kind of grin that promised an evening of debauchery and laughter. “So you forgive me?”

“Well, you did tell the world that I was your girlfriend so now I have to forgive you and take you back. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of Charles Leclerc.”

He smiled triumphantly and this time, when Charles dipped his head for another searing kiss, Y/N didn’t pull away.

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Teammate in Law

Requested: on wattpad

Prompt: Y/n and Charles are secretly keeping their relationship from her older brother, Carlos. But, it is all for not whilst Charles drunkenly tells Carlos the truth

Warnings: Drunk Charles, angry Carlos

You never really had any trouble with complying with Carlos' rules. Don't distract any team members, don't cause any trouble, no dating other drivers. In McLaren, you didn't have a problem because Carlos' team-mate was Lando at the time and Lando wasn't exactly your type, so you just ended up being his friend. The trouble however, started when Carlos moved to Ferrari at the beginning of the 2021 season. "Don't go anywhere, Im just going in to check on Mattia." Carlos said, leaving you in the middle of a hallway in the ferrari factory. "I won't go anywhere, I'll get lost if I do." After some reassurance, Carlos walked into Mattia's office. Although Carlos insisted the meeting would be a few minutes, it had already passed twenty minutes. You let out a groan in boredom.

You focused on keeping yourself composed as Charles Leclerc was literally sitting right next to you. "Excuse me?" You turned as the monegasque began to speak. "Do you work here?" Charles asked. "Oh, erm, no. Just a visitor." You replied. He nodded and turned back facing the wall. "Are you a fan? I think there's some fans allowed in here from time to time." Charles said. You shook your head no. "Nope, I'm Carlos' sister." Charles looked over and smiled softly. "Ah, so is that why you're here? He's in with Mattia?" Charles asked, pointing towards the door. "Yeah, he's been taking forever though." Charles looked you up and down, smiling as he took in your features. "So, you're Y/n? Lando told me about you." Your eyes went wide. "Probably not good things." Charles laughed and looked down to the floor. "No, not at all. A lot of stories about you drunk." You groaned and leaned your head against the wall. Lando had ruined your chances of scoring the monegasque before you even met him. "No, no, I want to see this all in person." You looked over confused. "What?" you asked. "Let's go and see if you're actually like this. How about we go out for a drink sometime?" You nibbled on your lower lip, trying to hide the grin on your face but it was no use. Charles knew he'd just about won you over.

The door to Mattia's office opened before Carlos stepped out and saw you and Charles smiling at each other, before you both tried to hide the fact that you were. "So what is all this?" Carlos asked, vividly unimpressed. "Just introducing myself Carlos." Charles replied. Carlos laughed. "She won't be seeing you enough for you to introduce yourself." You squinted your eyes at your brother in disbelief. "I know what you're really trying to do, you can't fool me. I was your age once." It was getting tense between the two ferrari dircers and they hadn't even gotten on track together as team-mates yet. "You aren't that old mate." Charles joked but clearly at the wrong time. "Are you mocking me?" Carlos almost shouted. "Carlos, can you stop shouting at the man? You're making a scene!" You pulled at Carlos' sleeve but he wasn't listening. "I'll call Mama and she won't be happy at all!" You threatened. Carlos looked back as if he was being challenged. He scoffed at his little sister. "You wouldn't dare." You grabbed your phone from your pocket and clicked onto your mother's phone number, holding it up to your ear and waiting for her to answer and staring at Carlos all at once. "Mama? Carlos es estúpido!" You said walking away, undoubtedly going to town on how annoying he was being. The usual. "Ah, ah, ah, Mamá, no porque, tu hija también está siendo estúpida!" Carlos called following after his sister. Charles however, looked on amused at the Spanish bickering and couldn't help but have this magnetic like attraction to the young Sainz sister.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

After the hectic race that was Silverstone, you went back to your hotel room to change before you went to cleebbrate with the team. Thankfully, your room was in between Charles' and Carlos'. You had a connecting room with Charles which was helpful for whne Charles was sneaking in at night and for moments like this. Charles stared at you, taking in your beauty through the mirror on the dresser, but you could tell something else was wrong. "You okay?" you asked as you took off the ferrari jacket. "That stuff doesn't suit you." You squinted your eyes in disbelief of his words. "What? Last time I checked you still drove for ferrari." Y/n said. Charles let out a sigh. "Yes but I mean why can't you wear the number 16?" Y/n grinned and wrapped her arms around Charles' neck. "We both know why Charles, I have to wear the number 55 for the meantime." After a few more visits, the exchanging of phone numbers and of course social medias, Charles had managed to captivate the Spaniard enough to love him back. The relationship had still been pretty new, only a few months but you didn't really care. "I don't have a problem telling Carlos I'm dating you-"

"Yes but he'll kill me, he wouldn't dare hurt you mon cœur." You giggled and pulled him in for a kiss. "I wouldn't let him do that, my love. Now go back to your room before Carlos comes around." Charles smiled and walked over to the connecting door before locking it behind him.

After Carlos came around, you went down to meet up with the team. They all decided to go out and celebrate and of course, you decided to tag along as you had gone to the Grand Prix. Everything was going fine until Charles had a little too much to drink and completely forgot that you were keeping you relationship secret. He started to dance with you, tell you how much he loved you and in all honesty, you weren't used to it so you got yourself out of the situation by going over to the bar. Carlos was watching the whole thing unfold, he wasn't the slightest bit impressed. You spotted Carlos and decided to go and tell him you'd be going up to your room to go fecth something. "I'll be back in a minute! I forgot my phone!" you said loud enough for Carlos to hear. Charles, on the verge of being blackout drunk, followed you to the bar but got confused whem he couldn't find you. He turned and saw his team-mate, sipping on a beer by himself and he let out a huge, exaggerated gasp. "Carlos!" Carlos turned and saw Charles, stumbling towards him, making him let out a little laugh. "You cannot hold alcohol, mate." Carlos laughed before Charles said something Carlos couldn't even understand. "By the way mate, you need to back up. That's my sister you're dancing with." Carlos laughed as he downed another bottle of beer. Charles, his mind clouded with alcohol, scoffed and grabbed another bottle of Estrella Galicia. "I'm already seeing her, Carlos. You need to relax." He laughed. Carlos froze and set his drink down before turning to face Charles. "What did you say?" Carlos asked. "I'm already seeing your sister, about two months or something now." Carlos clenched his jaw and finished his beer before paying and leaving.

He stormed upstairs to where you were staying and just as Carlos was about to knock the door, you opened it, putting your card key into your purse. "Oh, Carlos. I was on my way down now-" Carlos backed you up and closed the door behind him once he got into your room. "What the hell is this I hear about you and Charles, eh?" Your heart stopped. What did Charles say? "What have you two been up to?!" He shouted. "Carlos, calm down-" Carlos cut you off. "Calm down? Are you seriously telling me to calm down?" he asked angrily. "Yes, are you deaf?" He threw his arms up in a fit of rage. "Y/n, you are seeing my team mate. Did I not have a rule for this?" Carlos asked. You folded your arms over your chest and looked away. "Maybe you did." you muttered. "Now Lando, I wouldn't mind Lando because I know for a fact he wouldn't dare do anything wrong but Charles? Do you know about his ex girlfriends? How quickly he moves on? He's a play boy in a ferrari car. Nothing special." He snarled. This hurt you. You didn't want to believe it but putting things into perspective, that's how it seemed. "Can we just not do this right now please? I just want to finally find someone."

Carlos continued on ranting for a good four or five minutes. You felt like a child being scolded with all these lectures. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Carlos asked. "I don't see a problem with it." You muttered. "Are you being serious?! I just told you what he is and you still don't have a problem?!" Carlos boomed, his loud voice echoing around the hotel room and undoubtedly around the entire floor too. "Carlos, again with the shouting, can you tone it down a bit?" You asked quietly. "Tell me why, why should I not shout when you aren't listening?" You stood up straight, and off the wall. "You think I'm gonna listen if you shout? If you're wrong, you're wrong! No matter how loud you say it!"

À knock cane from the door, making you groan. "See? Now I have to deal with the noise complaint!" You walked towards the door and turned the knob before you opened it, surprised to see who was there. "Charles?" You arched an eyebrow as Charles showed up to your doorway, Carlos still angry in the background. "Y/n! Mon cœur! I love you!" He slurred, almost tripping on the way in. "I want to marry you." He sang. Your expression softened at his drunken words. You looked over to Carlos who looked at Charles disapprovingly. "Charles, I don't think this is the right time." You told him sweetly. "It's always the right time with you my love." he said, kissing your cheek. Carlos tensed up and looked away, his hands moving to his hips. "I know, but Carlos is here right now." Charles sat up and looked over to the pissed off Spanish driver. He lifted his finger and pointed at him, causing confusion between both Spaniards in the room. "Ah, my team mate in law." Charles began walking towards Carlos, you tried to hold him back a bit but it wasn't going to happen. "Listen, mate, I don't like lying to you so I should be the one to tell you this-" Charles paused and Carlos stood in anticipation. "I'm in love with your sister."

You closed your eyes in annoyance and sucked your lips in. "Charles, let's get you to bed, huh?" Charles nodded and went to open his connecting door. You closed your eyes again as Carlos looked on. Everything made sense now. How you two were secretly hanging out, how you managed to end up dating, everything was falling into place. "This is the secret door, Y/n." Charles whispered to you as if Carlos wasn't right there. "Charles, please go to bed." He smiled, before going through and closing it behind him, leaving you alone with Carlos to explain everything. "Okay, I think I need to explain a lot, right?" Carlos nodded before grabbing his jacket and putting it on. "You do, but that can be done another time." You arched an eyebrow. "What? So you don't want to ask anything? You don't have a problem?" Carlos shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have as big a problem with him now." Carlos said. "He's my team-mate in law after all." He added, earning a smile of relief from you. "I'll be going but if I hear anything-" He paused. "Unusual, I'll be coming straight over." You felt embarrassed as Carlos made his joke. "Nothing will happen, he's drunk and I'm pretty much sober."

"Well make sure my team-mate in law doesn't die or something. He's kind of important to the team." you laughed a bit and nodded. "I wouldn't let anything happen to him Carlos, you don't have to worry about that."

[thearchercore]

"we know Fred prioritizes Charles"

Listen I might be worrying and pessimistic here, but we know this for now. Fred is actually not just someone who mentored Charles, but also Lewis when he was younger. They also have a great relationship.

Funnily enough (or not), both Fred and John Elkann are extremely friendly with Charles and Lewis. Maybe that was part of the reason Lewis came into conversation.

Maybe it'll be a good thing, to have drivers who you already have good relationships with.

Maybe it'll be a bad thing if one driver is less preferred than the other.

We'll have to wait and see.

charles was confirmed the sign his contract first, which we know most likely included a first driver treatment clause. that being said, i dont think lewis would be a second driver. but charles IS ferrari. for him, that team and its achievements are a lifelong project. of course he's gonna get the higher priority now.

for lewis, ferrari is a destination. a place where he would stay before retiring, it's his one last final challenge in the rich career he had.

sure, they will both fight to their best abilities, but charles is the one right now leading the development. and for charles, possibly winning a WDC and beating lewis hamilton in the same machinery is an insane achievement. we have to rememeber, charles is literally crazy -- he was not even scared to fight seb during his first year at ferrari. of course he likes the challenge.

and if things dont go his way, he has back ups, and exit clauses he could activate. it's not a lost cause, and i dont think theres a big reason to Panic until we see more.

[spicyclover]

Pranks

Summary: You have had enough of Charles and his stupid TikTok prank.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover 

Charles is with his friends in the living room enjoying an aperitif in front of a football game when you finally get out of your office to prepare food. Not even a hello or anything. They all ignored you. You don’t hold it against them, but it annoys you a little.

For some days, Charles has discovered a new passion: TikTok challenges. So it goes from dancing to food and even jokes. He laughs about it with his friends, who find it highly amusing. You, a little less.

Because yes, you have been taken as a prime target. You are entitled to everything to your own annoyance.

You don’t know that you’re being filmed without your knowledge for yet another joke. When Charles finally speaks, you arrive at the kitchen counter and put your phone next to the lever to wash your hands. 

“Bitch, what are we eating?”

Shocked, you turn off the running water and slowly gaze at your boyfriend. This is the last straw. You look at him silently without saying anything. Your eyes do not reveal any emotion; it is only when you decide to move that Charles begins to regret his prank.

You still answer nothing and walk to the door with his keys and coat. You slam the door and run down the apartment's stairs to reach the parking lot. You walk quickly towards Charles' Ferrari. You sit on the driver’s side and start the engine. You see in the distance Charles running in.

You don’t wait another second; you step out of the square and start heading out. 

“Wait! Wait Y/n. I’m sorry,” yelled Charles trying to open the door.

Annoyed, frustrated and sad, you don’t want to listen to what he says and go out. You drive towards Carqueiranne, a small town by the sea south of France. You drive for two hours before arriving on the coast. The sun slowly begins to set away. You got the music in the car, your sunglasses on your nose, and you’re singing the lyrics all over the place. You deliberately ignore the vibrations on your phone, which you know, from Charles. You finally get to the front of your grandparents' house.

“Open, it’s me!” You say through the small intercom. 

They let you in, and you go up the small slopes of the house to park on the side. You get out of your car and take off your sunglasses. You put on the hat you found in the back of the car and walk towards the garden where your grandparents are reunited with some friends for dinner.

“Sorry to barge in unannounced, but I was walking by, and I thought, why not,” you say, hugging everyone across the table. 

“You are always welcome. Have you eaten?” Ask your grandmother when you get up to give you a well-stocked plate. 

“No, but I’m super hungry.” You sit in the empty chair and take the wine we offer you. “Thank you.”

“So, what brings you? Is it your car? “ Ask your grandpa, looking at the car you walk in. 

“No, it belongs to my boyfriend, Charles.”

“Oh, Charles. Can we find out more? How long have you guys been together? Where did you meet him?”

“It will soon be eight months that we are together,” you answer, laughing in front of the many questions everyone is asking. “He’s a racer, and we met at the Austin Grand Prix in the states.”

“Charles, as in Charles Leclerc, the Monegasque driver for Ferrari.”

“Yes, he.” You’re smiling.

Continuous conversation is good for talking to people you’ve known all your life. They don’t see Charles' girlfriend, the great Charles Leclerc. No. They see Y/n as the one and the only. You even posted a small private story on your Instagram account to celebrate this moment. You’re having a wonderful evening when you suddenly hear honking noises coming from the road. You get up to see who the crazy guy is who honks like crazy.

“Y/n,” he yells once he sees people approaching. 

“Charles?” You exclaim as you get closer.

“I’m sorry! I’m an asshole.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Please come back. I am gonna stop the TikTok thing. I just realized how much you...”

“No more TikTok or prank!”

“I promise,” he says, getting closer to you to hug you. “I told the guys to fuck off. I was so scared you left me for good.”

“Well, I was thinking about it if you didn’t run after me like you did,” You respond, your head on his chest and hugging him tightly. 

“If you ever let me talk to you like that. You better smack the shit out of me! If I ever speak to you like that, do you understand?”

“Yeah...”

“Good, because I love you too much, babe, to lose you.”

[f1-giuki]

casual by chapell roan, smut (u can add angst if u want it's a lil angsty), lestappen <3316

Hi darlinggggggg💖💖💖💖 Honestly yesterday I was listening to the rise and fall of a Midwest princess and it was so good, so this is very much spot on!!!! I have added also De Selby (part 1) by Hozier for the angst! I think they fit nicely together!

so here's you're lestappen drabble!!! hope you like it!!!!! 💖💖💖💖

casual - de selby (part 1) - prompt post

Max looks at Charles' sleeping figure and sighs with a sad smile. That's a moment he'll never relieve again. It's the fruit of forgetfulness and it won't come back ripe in his hands. It's already rotting under Max's remorse.

Max can look only when the whole world is asleep, surrounded by darkness, so that nobody will see the light of love in his eyes.

Max thinks not even God could bear such a life. He's the one who created Charles and put him on this Earth, maybe he's in the same position Max is, with a too-good fruit in his hands and the path to Hell carefully mapped out.

Charles' soft features are smoothed out by the bliss of sleep, and yet, so calm and pretty, they can't utter a word of help to Max's wild heart. He takes a glimpse at the pond, where the virgins wait for Spring to come, but his face is broken, reflected in thousands of shards. He can't see himself.

The point is that Max feels like he takes and takes and takes when he fucks Charles on the hood of his Ferrari, in his garage, his moans echoing red against his Red Bull trophies, but he's the one losing bits of himself among the sheets.

Max thinks Charles gets off when he slaps his face next to the second championship trophy on his bedside table. The empty one. The one Kelly left. Left for Charles is left unsaid, loudly in Max's brain.

Max feels like a monster shutting up Charles, pressing his face on the mattress or filling his mouth with his fingers. He's a monster because he wants so much, knowing that's the one thing he can never have or win.

But the words Charles whispered in his ear when he found out he was alone are branded like cattle marks on his brain. “Now that you're free, wanna have some real fun?”

Fast, passionate, bleeding fun. Everywhere, every time. On Max's couch, in Charles' car, in the bathroom of Charles' mother's apartment, while she cooked them lunch and waited for pasta to cook, on the phone with one of Charles' brothers. 

Max knows it's not casual, for him, when he sinks his nails in Charles's hips, marking and scratching like a rabid dog, marking his territory, praying to God that when Charles comes back home to his girlfriend she'll see him, leave Charles to him.

Max feels like a monster for wanting all the time, and hating Charles at the same time. He hates that “Baby, no attachment,” when Charles' dick is twitching down his throat, shooting his load in Max at the thought of having him at his disposal. Max hates loving power imbalances, knowing he wants but could never have that.

Max loves being so stupid to know about Charles' family, receiving worried calls from Arthur about his future and buying Lorenzo's favourite padel brands. Is it casual still when Joris challenges him to get the wag of the year trophy? 

Is it casual still, when Charles' clothes are in his washing machine and his housekeeper folds them in a neat pile in his dresser, where her things used to be?

Max knows it's not, although Charles is free and bright, he comes to him like darkness at sunset, beautiful and morbid as he takes his hand and places it on his throat.

They feel so entangled Max doesn't know where he starts and where Charles ends, where his paradise staircase became a slide to hell.

Max thinks he can hate, but then he sees that golden plane of skin under his pale fingers, he can't grab the brakes anymore and shall brace for impact.

He is cursed by love herself.

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 13/? Word count: 1456 Co writer: @mistrose23

Summary: This was Matilde Jørgensen, the newly appointed team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, about to face one of the most nerve-wracking challenges of her life. She tried to save the team from more disappointing results and put everything on the line to make them world champion again. There will be a big challenge to lead a historic team as 'newbie' and keeping her work and personal opinions apart from each other. The big question everybody will be asking: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 11. Home

"Nothing beats the Monaco Grand Prix," Charles said while collecting his stuff. His family and friends were sitting in the living room. "It means I can sleep in my own bed, and leave the house as late as possible... The dream."

Arthur, his little brother, smirked. "Yeah, but it's also known as: the cursed home race."

"Arthur," multiple people groaned.

"I wish he was lying," Charles chuckled. "But hopefully, we can break the curse. Everything is looking fantastic, we have been working really hard and we might have a chance."

It was silent in the living room; everyone admired his comment.

"What?" Charles looked around, not liking the silence.

"You sound so optimistic," his mother said. "So I assume everything is going well at Ferrari now?"

Since the beginning of this season, since the moment Matilde got introduced as team principal, Charles had doubts about Matilde. She was young, barely had any experience and seemed like she had no idea what she was doing or how she had to lead a team. But over the weeks, Matilde adapted quickly and showed that she had potential. Charles had shared his opinion on her, so his family and friends knew about his vision.

"Yes, everything is going fine now," he replied. "After Miami, she openly talked about the incident with the entire team, and she listened to everyone who had to say something. I think she's the first team principal I ever had who is really part of the team, instead of the leader of the team." Charles showed a smile when he realised how much the team had grown over the weeks. "She even hired an external coach and things have changed, suddenly everyone is communicating with each other."

Charles' family and friends listened as he spoke about the changes happening within Ferrari under Matilde's leadership. His family and friends began to see her in a new light. She was clearly actively working to create a more collaborative and open environment within the team.

"An external coach?" Pascale asked. "What does it do?"

Arthur couldn't help, but laugh. He imitated his mother, it lightened the mood. "'What does it do?'"

Charles shared a smile as a reaction to Arthur. "He is some sort of a psychologist, he helps to get new insights within the team, like our weaknesses and strengths, observes how things are going, improves the weaknesses by giving advice," Charles explained.

Lorenzo nodded impressively. "I'm a fan. This should have happened way sooner." He, too, was beginning to see the positive impact of Matilde's leadership. He was hopeful that these improvements would lead to better results on the track.

"Maybe the curse will finally be broken this year," Joris, Charles' best friend, chimed in after hearing the optimism Charles had. And he also saw how things turned around under Matilde's watch.

Charles chuckled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "That's the plan. With how things are going, I honestly think we have a chance of winning races, maybe even the championship."

The group made their way to the track. It was only a ten-minute walk, but due to the fans, the family and friends decided to take the car. Charles, Joris and Andrea decided to take the bike. Charles loved this race, and he wanted to take the opportunity to interact with his fans. As they rode through the streets of Monte Carlo, the excitement in the air was present.

The streets were lined with enthusiastic people, all hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite driver. Charles smiled as he waved to the fans. He stepped off his bike to sign autographs and took some photos with fans. The support of the Monegasque crowd meant the world to him, and he cherished these moments.

Charles, Joris and Andrea arrived at the paddock. They were welcomed by the press. The family and friends of Charles were already waiting on the inside of the gates. They met up with Charles and they made their way to the Ferrari hospitality. It was the first time his family was about to meet Matilde. Approaching the hospitality area, they spotted Matilde seated outside, eating one of the two tangerines and reviewing documents. She looked up, her gaze meeting Charles' and his entourage. A warm smile came on her face.

"This is Matilde," Charles said to his family.

Matilde set aside the papers, and she gave them her full attention. "Hey," she said, standing up. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and shook everyone's hand. She knew Joris and Andrea already, but only by name.

Charles' family and friends, particularly his mother Pascale, expressed their delight at finally meeting Matilde in person. "We've heard a lot about you," Pascale mentioned with a warm smile.

A conversation began between the team principal and Charles' family. In the meantime, Carlos had arrived at the hospitality as well. He noticed how Matilde was chatting with Charles' family, so he decided to greet her by only padding her on the shoulder when he passed her. Matilde looked at him and gave him a nod. Then Arthur mentioned he had to go, he had to go to his team to prepare for qualifying. His family and friends wished him good luck, just like Matilde. It became clear to Charles' family that she was not just the team principal, but also just a human and an approachable team member.

"Is this your first time in Monte Carlo?" Lorenzo, Charles' older brother, curiously asked.

Matilde nodded. "It is, actually."

Charles raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Really? I had no idea."

She nodded again. "I had a 50% travel contract at Red Bull. I've been to almost every circuit at least once, but I have never been to Monte Carlo, so this is an exciting one."

"Wow," he perplexedly mumbled. "If I had known, I would have given you a tour... only if you wanted to, of course."

Matilde blushed a little bit, and Charles' cheeks also turned a bit reddish.

"We still can do it!" Arthur excitedly shared. "After this weekend, when there's time."

"Sounds like a plan," Pascale agreed. "Just let Charles know, and we will plan something."

She showed a promising smile and looked at her watch. "If you will excuse me, I have to attend a briefing. Please, make yourself comfortable here and have fun this weekend," she mentioned, collecting her documents, the tangerine and the peel of one of the eaten tangerines. She walked away, leaving everyone behind.

"What a lovely woman," Pascale mentioned. "She's doing her best, and it shows. You should cherish this within the team." She padded Charles' shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Perhaps invite her for lunch on Monday and then go out for a tour. It's tradition. And that way I can meet her properly. I want to know who your boss is."

"I will let you know about it."

"Let me know on time so I can do some groceries."

Charles looked at the Ferrari's hospitality, following Matilde with his eyes. She was talking to her assistant, smiling and listening carefully. 

A frown captured Arthur's face; tradition? His eyes met Lorenzo's, who shared the same look. 

Only Lorenzo dared to say something about it. "Tradition?" 

"Yes, from now on," Pascale grinned and winked, looking at Charles for his reaction. However, Charles wasn't listening. And perhaps it was better for now. 

* * *

The free practice sessions on Friday turned out to be a perfect day for Ferrari. The iconic streets of Monte Carlo presented a unique challenge for the drivers, with narrow twists and turns, demanding precision and finesse.

Charles, with his deep familiarity with the circuit, set the pace during the first practice session. His laps were nothing short of masterful, as he expertly manoeuvred his Ferrari through the narrow streets. He delicately pushed the boundaries, skirting with the barriers but never crossing the line into mistakes. His lap times remained consistently impressive, putting him at the top of the leaderboard.

But Charles wasn't the only notable driver that day. Carlos also demonstrated his skill and adaptability. Just like Charles, he pushed and delivered consistent lap times. His feedback to the team was invaluable, helping them fine-tune the car's setup to suit the tight layout.

Inside the garage, the engineers and mechanics worked hard, making adjustments based on the drivers' input. The people back at the factory in Maranello, followed every movement and worked along with the people on the track. Matilde watched with a sense of satisfaction as both the drivers performed flawlessly.

The faultless performance didn't go unnoticed by the other teams, the media or the fans. The team had clearly done their homework, providing Charles and Carlos a car that responded impeccably to their commands.

Nothing could go wrong... right? 

Next chapter

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry

[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 27

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Charles is having a couple of drinks on a night out with his crew after a successful practice. Carlos is clapping him on the back and poking fun at him (as usual), bringing up the challenge the two drivers had done earlier in the evening, where Carlos had won. Beer is being passed around and glasses are clinking. There’s an air of freedom and joy being shared with the Scuderia Ferrari family. 

“So, Charles, tell me, man, how’s it going with that new chick?”, asks Carlos, very much out of the blue. 

Caught off-guard and choking on his drink, Charles sputters. “Fine! Stop prying into my life guys. And she’s my girlfriend, not ‘a chick’!”

This makes Carlos raise an eyebrow. “Wow. You must be very serious about her to come to her defense like that…”

“I am”

“Well, that’s great! She just passed my test. Anyway. Rebecca has been planning a girls' night out with a few of the other driver’s women. Care to ask Y/n if she’d like to join?”

Just as Charles is about to answer, he feels his phone buzz. Well, that’s got to be you because he switched off all notifications from everyone except you and his family– the latter hardly texting him on Friday nights. 

Charles, I know you’re out with friends, and I really didn’t want to bother you. 

But what am I supposed to wear to the dinner tomorrow? 

Maybe I’m not ready to meet your family. Is it too late to back out? God, I think I might throw up, I’m so nervous.

Charles excuses himself from the table, signaling that he’ll be outside taking a call.

Your phone rings on the kitchen counter while you pace anxiously. “Chéri—”

“Charles, I’m so sorry for interrupting your night out… I’m just– Really, really freaking out. I mean, this is your mother we’re talking about. She might already hate me, what if I show up in something that makes her hate me even more?”

“Sweetheart, calm down. I’ve already told you that my mother is the one who is excited to meet you. And just wear something casual, dinner should be a comfortable matter.”

“Okay”, you exhale, trying to slow your heart. “Alright, casual. But what kind of– You know what? What if I send you some pictures of options and you tell me which is the best to wear tomorrow?”

You hear him chuckle over the phone. “Stop laughing at me! This is serious!”

“Yes, of course, Chéri. No, I don’t mind you sending me pictures.”

He hears a rustling from your line. You must be going through your closet right now. 

“Love, do you mind if I go back to hanging out with my boys now? I’ll cut the call.”

“Oh! Oh, of course! I’m so sorry. Yeah, go have fun, and pretend I didn’t even call and interrupt. Sorry. Bye!”

…

Carlos keeps an eye on Charles from inside the tiny bar Ferrari has rented. He seemed to be listening to the person on the other side of the call, smiling and laughing. Ah, he must be on call with his new girlfriend.

Carlos hadn’t ever seen Charles this affected by a girl, and none of his past girlfriends ever made him smile so much. He looked… Happy. Happy with you, about you, around you. Just Happy. Carlos smiled at the thought. Lord knows that Charles deserved some real happiness after all the fronts he’d had to put up. His heart warmed. Yeah, you would be a great addition to this tight-knit family of drivers. 

…

On Saturday, you end up wearing a pair of jeans and a sleeveless, flowy, cotton top. Charles picks you up in his Ferrari (because he doesn’t have any normal cars, duh) and you make your way to his childhood home. 

Stepping out and grabbing the door for you, you exit the car and take a few deep breaths, the nervousness kicking in once again. You feel him reach for your hand, thumb rubbing the skin of your knuckles soothingly, and lifting it to press a kiss to them. “Let’s go Chéri.”

Nodding, you follow him into his first home. 

“Maman! I’m here!”

“Ahhh, which one are you again?”, a playful response comes.

“The middle child, Maman…”

You hear laughter coming from a different room. Then footsteps to the room you and Charles are in. A petite lady walks into the room and rushes to Charles and presses kisses to his cheeks, and he returns them in kind.

“I missed you, my boy. How have you been? And where is the girl? I told you to bring her today, no?”

“Missed you too Maman, and I’ve been great. Here”, Charles brings you forward by the grip of your hand. “My girlfriend, Y/n.”

Mme. Leclerc regards you carefully for a minute, and you feel as though you are a bug that’s been placed under a microscope, feeling her eyes scrutinize you head-to-toe.

Then she leans forward and you exchange greeting kisses. “Bonjour Mme (Madame) Leclerc. I’m so honored to meet you”, you say, praying that your voice doesn’t tremble.

She cuts you off shortly and gives you a tight hug. “I am so glad to finally meet the young woman who has managed to completely enamor my boy”, she says and immediately, you feel a weight lift from your chest. She doesn’t hate you.

“I must say, you are quite a beauty, Perceval here did not do any justice to your appearance when he ranted to me about you for two hours earlier this week.”

Flushing, you turn to glare at Charles, who doesn’t meet your gaze because he’s busy glaring at his own mother. When he turns to you his eyes widen in fright. We will talk about this later, your eyes seem to tell him. 

“Well child, come join the rest of us in the dining room, why don’t you? And please, call me Pascale.”

Grinning at your boyfriend, whose expression softens at the mention of the rest of his family, you follow him to the dining room.

[shaarlslec]

friends 

part 2 & part 3 here lovelies;

pairing: charles leclerc x reader (ft. pierre gasly x reader);

summary: Charles sees paparazzi pictures taken with you and a very drunk Pierre and that does not do him good although the three of you have claimed to be just friends.

words: 5000 ish

warnings: mentions of alcohol

masterlist

The three of you grew up together loving racing. You, loving to build the cars as your father’s apprentice and them loving to try the cars that you and your dad were designing.

When Charles got the spot for Ferrari, he took you and your father with him as two of his most trusted engineers, and quite drifted you apart from the young driver at Toro Rosso as you spend most of your time in the Ferrari garage. Since you got the job and Charles the seat, your friendship trio had its lows more than highs, but you still managed to keep being friends with both at and outside the circuits at parties, events, and secret getaways far away from the media.

It has always been Y/N, Charles and Pierre and you could not paint a picture of the future when that was not the case. 

Your friendship with the two young hot boiled driven studs was challenging at times, especially when they fought over silly things or needed girl advice.

You loved every single piece of it.

When you were younger it felt like you had two brothers to protect you from all of the bad in the world, and sometimes two children to take care of for the rest of your life. You have been loving it since the day you met at the karting circuit and later when you witnessed their greatness through all phases of getting into Formula 1.

However, your favourite phase of them all must have been your teenager years when the dream of winning the world championship was further down the line for both.

You dearly loved the times where you three were young, unexperienced, and anxious about everything and all at once and that was because you seemed to be the most grounded one out of the pack, and the boys managed to hold on into that since then and never questioned your pieces of advice.

They often called you the mom of the group and you took your job very seriously without realising the amount of pressure you were putting on yourself to always take care of the two boys and solve their problems, even their girl problems. As it has always been said, boys mature later than girls and you three represented the living example of the saying. 

“Yes, you are right, we need to follow the three days rule.” Pierre spoke, anxiously tapping his foot underneath the table and watching his best friend across it after stealing a glare from you who was seated in between the two boys, “You are a genius, Charles.” 

You let out a soft laugh as you followed Pierre’s glare, you knew exactly why they were anxious about this time. They met two of their fans at the end of the race and the girls managed to slip their numbers into one of their hands, leaving the boys with the chance to text them. They both took the chance, and now that the exchange of messages between them and the two girls were successful, they needed a plan to invite the girls to hang out. You were even more unexperienced as them, having only the two boys standing in front of you to text or call at the sweet age of sixteen. And yet, somehow, they were both searching for answers on your face with their confused glares. 

“Exactly! We need to keep them waiting for three days and then they will for sure want to go on dates with us.” Charles happily nodded, taking a quick look at you as well, “Right?” He then pleaded towards you with those puppy eyes of his, craving for you to approve him and his three-day rule. 

You listened carefully before rolling your eyes and taking a deep breath in, “The three days rule means that you will not reply to any of your girls for three days straight and then expect them to say yes to you inviting them out?” You questioned, taking both of their phones from the table, and demanding them to unlock them with a sharp look.

“You dumb boys.�� You spoke, searching first for Charles’ messages and then Pierre’s, “No girl likes to be left on read for three whole days, you are trying to play the hard-to-get card?” You questioned, already replying to the girls you knew they liked but were too afraid to ask out.

“You are both handsome drivers, and within five years you will both be in Formula 1, use that to pick up girls if you think that your own individual charms are not enough.” You spoke, pressing send to both messages, “You are charming enough to not need stupid rules.” You assured them, placing the phones back facing the table and lifting your glare to meet their scared ones, “Trust me boys, you will do just great.” You spoke, grabbing both of their arms across the table for a soft stroke, “It is their loss if they say no to you.” 

“You are right.” Pierre nodded and took the phone with the other hand from the table to wait for his girl’s answer to your reply. 

“You are always right.” Charles affirmed, placing his other hand on yours, “Thank you.”

That is when the phase “Y/N is always right” started and was carried on through the years, and after they successfully went on dates with the said girls you became the one to dictate their love life as well, always, always, always asking for your advice. You enjoyed it for a bit, you liked to be in control and yet things went downhill once you noticed that them asking for your advice when it came to girls begun to bother you even so slightly and especially when Charles required them from you. 

Being the mom of the group meant that you had to treat them the same as if they were your actual children, always having to love them in the same way and always having to cheer for them with the same energy. It was rough for you to do so, especially when they raced against each other. For most of your friendship you managed to keep a balance between the three of you although you stroked Leclerc’s hand a little bit tighter, laughed at his jokes a little bit more, screamed his name in the paddock a little bit louder and loved him a little bit different. 

You could not remember when all of that started, maybe it was when for the first time Charles cried in your arms when he got his heart broken by his first girlfriend or maybe it was for the first time when you noticed that he looks with a type of tenderness that it was not shown to anyone else – not even when he looked at Pierre. Whenever it was, Charles Leclerc’s friendship with you was alternated by feelings that you were not able to understand fully at the age of sixteen, while yours and Pierre’s reminded the same. 

You felt guilty when it came to Pierre, but somehow you knew that he was aware of you adoration towards Leclerc whereas Charles was as dull as a man can be when crushed on by a girl that follows him everywhere. Pierre noticed the way you looked at his best friend, the way your hand went around his shoulders at parties and the way you shily reciprocated Charles smiles.

It was oddly weird for him at first, but as years went by and Leclerc played the dumb card while you were crushing all over him, Pierre found himself really excited about the idea of his two best friends getting together. And yet, none of you made a move towards the goal. You never confessed to Leclerc, you always considered that there was still enough time.

As mentioned, you were young and unexperienced when it came to more than friendship with boys. You stood quiet and silent next to him waiting for the right time to confess with Pierre watching you closely falling every time. The first time when you figured out that Pierre was aware of the situation was when he popped up that question towards you. 

“Don’t you think that now is an appropriate time to tell Charles that you are in love with him?” Pierre asked after Charles’ won the GP3 Series championship when you were both nineteen.  

Your eyes widened at the hearing of Pierre’s words. You tried to deny, but your mumbling gave you away, “I just do—d” You stumbled, and Pierre stopped you by softly pressing one of his fingers on your lips. 

“Leclerc might be foolish, but I am not.” Pierre spoke, watching his best friend lifting the trophy in the air on the podium above your heads, “Just be sure to tell him, he will not figure it out on his own.” 

You gulped once Pierre’s finger was off your mouth, “You are not mad?” You asked him, looking up at the Frenchman whose eyes went down on you and your trembling lip still exhausted by the boy’s touch.

Pierre’s head tilted towards you, “Why would I be mad?” He then asked, “Do you want me to want you to pick me?” He then asked, and you could swear that the entire crowd celebrating Charles went silent once the words were out of your friend’s mouth.

Sultry.

That was Pierre’s tone whenever he leaned towards somebody’s ear to whisper sweet nothings, and you knew pretty much all his manoeuvres. You taught him half of them, and the other half were practiced on you before other girls to perfection them.

You were in love with Charles, but you could not deny the urge to jump at Pierre’s neck every single time when he would use that flirty tone of his. You witnessed Pierre going from that shy sixteen-year-old boy that had no clue how to flirt to this mastermind of a pick-up artist. You got used to the way in which Pierre would accidentally slip one of the lines used with other girls with you, and every single time you would convince yourself that he was just joking with you.

You chuckled then at Pierre’s words, watching the man’s blue eyes staring back at you and that sharp jawline inches from yours.

“You are doing it again, aren’t you?” You spoke, battling your eyelashes at Pierre as a return of the flirt, “Practicing on me.” 

You locked eyes for a while, Pierre not being sure what to answer and you not being sure how to continue. It was one of your inside jokes that Charles was unaware about. You two learning how to flirt from the other. It was fun when you were kids, not knowing nor understanding exactly what physical attraction between two people meant, but as you grew older, and you passed the age of eighteen it became even more dangerous to play with fire when Charles was not looking.

But at that time, Charles was looking from above. The man searched for his best friends’ faces in the crowd and did nothing but to display a huge ass smile once he caught you two next to each other. Pierre took a step back in the crowd and nodded as he started to clap his hands even harder for his best friend once their glares met, throwing you an “If you say so, then yes.” 

Pierre kept asking you the same thing years in a row: when Leclerc won the Formula 2 Championship, when he got his seat in F1, when he got transferred at Ferrari, every time a milestone was achieved.  Your answers were the same, but the flirt that you thought to be innocent between you and the Frenchmen only got more intense as years went by and as you denied your feelings for the Monegasque.

In your defence, you never told Pierre that he was right.

You never confessed to him that you were into Charles, you were only mumbling and bumbling your answers, Pierre figure it out on his own and used every chance he had to tease you about it. You knew that you were not able to hold all inside your aching chest forever but what you did not know is that you were about to pour out all your feelings towards Charles in front of Pierre during that night at the Monaco party.

You went to the famous Monaco party after the disaster that was the grand prix for Charles ending up in P4. You went to one of Charles’ most frequented clubs with most of the people from the Ferrari team that were there to celebrate the podium of Carlos Sainz. You celebrated with them as well, and Charles gave his all to be joyful and supportive of his team-mate as he always is. You caught the man’s glare staring at the floor lost in the intricate thoughts running into his mind. You knew Charles, you knew that face and you also somehow knew that it was your duty to take Charles’ mind out of the events during the day. You wanted nothing more than to know him happy, that man deserved all the happiness in the world. 

“Come on now,” You spoke as you made your way through the crowd until you reached his torso, grabbing your friend by his shoulders with one of your arms, “Dance with me Percival.” You spoke, facing him now as you turned on your heel to glimpse at him from above. 

Charles smiled when laid eyes on you as if the worries inside the man’s mind vanished once your voice reached his ears, “Oh no, not this again.” He then spoke, placing one of his palms on your back to accommodate you in the man’s personal space and to protect you from getting touched by others passing by your back, “Can you stop calling me Percival?” The man spoke, leaning towards your ear to make his words harshly heard as he dropped an octave in his tone, “When will all this teasing stop?” He then asked, somehow snuggling you at his chest even tighter in the process. 

Your excuse for being so close in a public place was the loud music bombing your ears, you could not have a normal talk standing one in front of the other at a decent distance with the music resounding that loud in the club. You enjoyed the closeness, and so did Charles. You returned the smile and reached the man’s back of the neck with one hand while the other rested on the edges of his unbuttoned white shirt, “Never, I enjoy Percival more than Charles.” 

Charles’ head shook a little in a mocking disappointment as he knew exactly what you were referring about. You called him Percival only when he got drunk and somehow gained this unknown confidence on the dancefloor, “You and I both know that I suck at dancing.” Percival laughed, clumsily swirling you in a tiny pirouette just for his hands to lay on the curves of your hips when you faced him again, “Pierre texted that he will be soon here too, you will have the change to dance with someone on your calibre.”

“You and I both know that I suck at dancing too.” You spoke, inches away from the man’s face, “Pierre outdances us by far.” 

Charles denied with that little smile still sprung on his face that made your insides shiver as well as your spine underneath the man’s touch on the fabric covering your skin, “That is just not true.” He then replied, slowly guiding your body on the song’s rhythm as his fingers jabbed more in the white silk of the dress you were wearing, “See? You are doing great.” Your friend spoke as he took his time to look at you from head to toes, doing a rapid scan of your body in that dress without even realizing that his lips were dry and chest heavy as it rose in a sight, “I need a drink, do you want something?” He swiftly spoke, searching for your eyes again after they seemed for an eternity locked on your body. 

You nodded; you were in need for a drink as well. Leclerc’s eyes on you always left your neck dry and your heart throbbing. You danced with him as well as with the other people in the Ferrari team for the next hour or so after he bought you the promised drink that turned in more than just one glass. You and Charles made a pact when you got hired at Ferrari to not let people in your relationship and not to accuse him of favours when it came to your family position in the team. Therefore, few people knew that you and Charles were close friends and you had to keep it that way although it was hard for both of you to keep hands off the other especially after shots went down to your necks as if the liquids inside the glasses were merely water.

Once you joined the group on the dance floor, Leclerc loosen up a little. He danced more, he laughed more, he drank more and shouted the songs’ lyrics louder. You enjoyed seeing him having fun and not think about what happened on the track, but you also took the responsibility to take care of him as you always do. Thus, at every two other questionable shots, you forced him to drink actual water. Leclerc listened; Charles always listened of you. 

“Good boy.” You spoke, handing him yet another bottle of water, “What about seating down for a while?” You spoke, titling your head to the booth few steps away from the dance floor as you grabbed the man hands into yours, “My feet are killing me!” 

Charles’ fingers tingled as you touched them, and he decided that it was for the best to cup your fingers in between his. Leclerc wanted to be in control with at least that, with the way he held your hand in a crowded room where no one noticed that you were that close. You smiled and stroked Charles’ fingers with yours as his grip got tighter around your fingers, “I am not going anywhere, Charles.” You assured him as you looked over your shoulder, “Just the booth.” 

Your voice resounded not only to Charles’ ears but also to a couple of your co-workers who were also in need for a break. Through the noise they could only understand the word “booth” and took it as an invite to follow you and Charles. You sighed once seated down next to him, watching the people from the team cramming over the table as well. You exchanged few glances with Charles, foolish of you to believe that you were going to be left alone in a crowded club in Monaco where everyone knew who he was. Soon enough not only the people from your team joined you two but also people who recognised the driver and who noticed him getting away from the dance floor to a quieter place where they could ask him questions and take pictures with him.

With all the fuss going around the table, with all the glances exchanged between the team members, topics loudly discussed around the GP, and drinks heavily being passed around, your hand was still in Charles’ underneath the table resting on one of the man’s thighs and no one seemed to notice. You would be lying not to admit that you were enjoying Charles attention on you when everyone at the table tried to get his.  

“Are you okay?” Charles leaned to whisper after he noticed your cheeks turning red underneath the purple hues of the club.

You nodded, “Yes, too many shots.” You lied, touching your burning face that you caught him staring at with the back of your hand. 

“Do you want to go and get some air?” Charles spoke, fully facing you now and focusing all his attention on you and only you. Oh crap, he was beautiful. With his hair all ruffled from the heat and his sleepy drunken eyes watching yours, with that white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal part of his chest and those soft looking trembling lips waiting for you to say yes, always waiting for you to say yes to his pleadings. 

“Sure we ca—” 

Your sentence was cut short as you were startled by two arms that were not Leclerc’s embracing you from the back. You quickly turned and spotted Pierre in all his drunkenness reaching for the seat next to you. 

“Oh my sweet, sweet friends, I have been looking for you on the dance floor!” He confessed, tightly squeezing you in, “Hello mate.” He then spoke, reaching for Charles’ hand to shake. 

Leclerc’s hand slipped from yours into Pierre’s but then failed to return into yours which was now left empty on the man’s tight still. You gulped and removed your hand from the man’s body, childishly clasping both of your hands in your lap and switching your glare from Charles to Pierre, then back to Charles only to be stolen away by Pierre taking your face in both of your hands. 

“You look beautiful.” Pierre almost shouted after a few moments of simply staring at your face, “You grew up so fast, I cannot believe my eyes.” The Frenchman then spoke, and you could sense that he already had reached his limit of how-many-shots-are-too-many-shoots, “Isn’t she beautiful Charles?!” Pierre asked, still cupping your face into his giant hands, “Did he tell you that you look amazing tonight, or do I have to fight him for not complimenting you again?” Pierre spoke, but now leaning towards you for only your ears to hear the question. 

“Ok, ok.” You spoke as you shook your head, touching the wrists of Pierre with both of your hands to release yourself from the trap, “Thank you Pierre, but I cannot feel my face.” 

The truth was that you could feel your face and your face was burning. First, because you stood right in between the most handsome men you knew and second, because Pierre was drunk enough to already tease you about Charles and you were pretty much aware of the fact that if you kept the two together for yet another hour or so, Pierre would spill the beans on your little crush on his best friend. Pierre almost told Charles twice when they were drunk that he figured out your feelings for Leclerc, and you were still not ready to tell Charles. 

“She indeed is.” Charles replied once your glance went away from Pierre and back to Charles, “Sorry for not saying anything by now.” He then apologised, signalling that Pierre was not exactly quiet when he asked you the before question, “You are stunning, you always are stunning.” Leclerc muttered without taking his eyes out of you not even for a split of a second while complimenting you. 

You shily smiled, mimicking a short “thank you” towards Charles, your neck being too dry now for your mouth to utter the words in loud voice. 

“Y/N is always right, Y/N is always stunning.” Pierre yelled in the space between you and Charles, basically getting on top of you in the process of reaching Charles’ ears to catch his best friend’s attention, “That is the best you can do, mate? Agreeing with me?” He then huffed, “You know that she deserves more than that, right?” Pierre added, his tone switching from that funny type of a drunk voice to a raspier demanding one, “You need to step up your game, my friend.” He then spoke, patting Charles’ chest with one of his palms. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed Pierre out of you by placing both of your hands on the man’s fully bare chest now noticing that Pierre shirt was fully unbuttoned from up to down, “Thank you again Pierre.” You gently spoke, seating Pierre back next to you, “You look like you had more than enough to drink.” You spoke, fully facing the Frenchman now, “Let’s get out to get some air friend.” 

Pierre stubbornly pouted, “You are changing the subject, switch places with me I need to talk with Charles.”

Your eyebrow twitched towards Pierre, “No Pierre, we are going out.” You spoke, roughly grabbing the man’s wrist and shortly looking over your shoulder to a confused Charles Leclerc watching the banter between the two of you while still processing Pierre’s last words, “I will take him out for a bit, you will be alright by yourself?” You asked, catching Charles’ look on you. 

“I—” Charles shuttered, “I do not want to play games with you.” He then replied, “I never played games with you.” Charles continued still being confused by what Pierre was trying to say and why was he so aggressive towards him when it came to a mere compliment which was not even about him to begin with.

You nodded, “I know darling, I know it very well.” You assured him, “Don’t mind Pierre, you know how he is when drunk.” You then tried to clarify as you rose from your seat, “We will be back in a moment.” You said as you carefully placed your other palm on Charles shoulder for support as with the other you were dragging Pierre out from the booth, “Drink water!” You shouted as you leave towards Charles direction, “And you,” You emphasised watching a wombling Pierre following you, “What am I going to do with you?”

“What the actual fuck was that?” You spoke once getting out of the club and letting go of the man’s wrist, “Why were you giving him an attitude for?”

Pierre’s eyes widened in surprise, “I thought you would be happy that you got complimented by him.”

You rolled your eyes again at him and stopped your steps where the lights faded and not many people passed to adopt a defensive pose in front of your barely functioning friend, “I don’t need your help to get compliments from men Pierre.” 

“Not just any men, but Charles.” He replied to you, taking a few steps towards you in the darkness, “Drop the act, Y/N.” Pierre demanded while stretching the back of his neck, “I know that random compliments from random ass men do not mean shit to you, but you are delighted when Charles does it.” 

You crossed your arms at your chest, sustaining your weight on only one of your feet, “I did not ask for your help, Pierre.” You spoke as your arms felt around your body, you knew that you could not get mad at Pierre or return the attitude, you knew that he would use one of his charms and you will be laughing about this argument tomorrow, you knew that his intentions were nothing but good when it came to you and Charles. 

“I am sorry.” You apologised first, “I am getting all worked up for nothing.” 

Pierre let out a sigh and leaned on the wall behind him, “Tell him what you feel before it is too late or try to get over it, there is no easy way out if you keep it for yourself for eternity.” 

You watched your now very much hurt feet as you listened to Pierre, “Easier said than done.” You spoke, taking a full breath of fresh air inside your lungs before daring to look up at him and take two steps towards the Frenchmen. 

“You will get a cold.” You spoke as you faced a leaned on the wall Pierre and started to button up your friend’s shirt, “Do I even want to know why you came to the party barely naked and already drunk?” You inquired, slowly yet surely wanting to change the focus of attention from you to him.

Pierre chuckled as he clenched your hands on the shirt with both of his, “Mom, I will not get a cold and it is basically summer in Monaco!” The child spoke, almost yelling the last three words. 

“Oh shut up, you will wake the entire town.” You sarcastically replied, getting your hands from underneath his and stubbornly continuing to button him up, “There you go, better right?” You spoke, smoothing the shirt with both of your palms as you were happily smiling, “You look handsome too.” You spoke, throwing a cheeky wink into Pierre’s direction, “You grew up so fast, I cannot believe my eyes!” You added with mockery into your tone. 

Your friend’s eyes did not go from you the entire time you were arranging the man’s shirt fact that helped him reach to a conclusion, “You do really behave like a mom, and somehow like a child at the same time.” Pierre spoke, leaning down the wall until his bottom reached the ground concrete floor. 

“Oh my god child, get up.” You spoke, “We can go over there to se-”

Then, again for the tenth time that evening, Pierre cut you off from talking as the man reached for your wrist and pulled you down with him. You rolled your eyes as you leaned your back on the wall, squatting down in your heels as you used Pierre arm as a pillar cupping it into both of yours. 

“You will be a great mom.” Pierre spoke, glaring back at you who was now struggling in finding a comfortable position to seat in against the wall but being unsuccessful to do so just because Pierre was too stubborn to get up.

You sighed, “Do you think so?”

“I know so.” Pierre assured you, leaning his head on your already unstable shabby shoulder to find comfort in the closeness of your bodies, “Charles knows it too.” 

“Knows what?” 

“That you will be a great mom, Charles told me the last time when we met only the two of us.” He then explained, catching your reaction with only one of his eyes opened. 

You gasped, “You are meeting behind my back?” You sarcastically inquired, gently pinching the man’s cheeks as a form of little punishment, “He did?” You then asked, watching Pierre carefully to catch if he was lying or not – you always figured out when he was not telling you the truth. 

Pierre nodded, “Yes, we often talk about how you take care of us and yet never let us take care of you.” 

“That is because you screw up more often than me.”

“You know that you can let us take care of you once in a while, right?” 

You chuckled, “I know, and I will let you know when that will be the case.” You hardly managed to speak as you lost your balance because your feet were unable to sustain you in the squatted position. 

Pierre huffed and then stretched his legs forward, “Such a liar!” He then spoke, covering your waist from the back with one arm, “You are not even letting me know now.” He argued, fully opening his eyes to see the excruciating pain on your face due to the hurting of your feet, “Sit down.” Pierre demanded, signalling you straight to his lap as his grip went even tighter around you ready to slam you down on him.

“On your lap? Now? Here?” You anxiously asked as you shook your head, “No way.” 

“Oh come on now Y/N.” Pierre pleaded, “It is dark, no one is watching us, you are clearly in pain and I need five more minutes here before going in again.” Your friend argued, “I will not say a word to Charles.” 

You were not ready to cave in but Pierre used your hesitation to get an answer from you and used both of his arms to seat you down on his lap, and when the pain from your legs went away as you were not using them anymore you were glad that Pierre offered to do it. 

“I think you might be right.” You confessed to Pierre while getting more comfortable into your new seat, “I should tell Charles how I feel or get over it before it is too late.”

Pierre spoke nothing but agreed with a nod. You stood there in silence for a while seated in your friend’s lap. You thought of Charles, and weirdly enough Pierre did that too. And yet, your thoughts about Charles Leclerc in that moment were far from being the same. You were thinking about how to and if you should confess to him, while Pierre was thinking about how Charles was screwing everything up without even knowing and how you were right there seated on his lap but no move from him would make you even consider him instead of his best friend. It was frustrating for Pierre for so many years, cheering for you two while never joking in his flirts with you. 

And just like that, as you both were lost in your own thoughts regarding Charles Leclerc, no one of you was even aware of the camera that has been taking pictures with you two drunkenly arguing, laughing and seating down outside the party from across the street since the very first step you took out of the club when the man holding the camera chanceful spotted the Alpha Tauri driver Pierre Gasly getting out from the club with a beautiful new women he has not been spotted yet.

You were fully unaware of what a scandal those pictures will rise the next couple of days not just in the F1 press but also in your group of the little three happy friends. 

Neither of you would have anticipated Charles’ reactions to them.