#rafe cameronđ
[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+
A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!
word count: 4.8k
In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.
rafe cameron masterlist
The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasnât beating down on you. Maybe youâd appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer.Â
Charlotte was a big city you hadnât fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where youâd been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than youâd ever see in your whole life.Â
Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you werenât working for ten straight hours. Somehow, youâd been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated.Â
When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: âHi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.â
She spoke curtly, âTwelfth floor,â She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.
âTh-Thank you,â You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You werenât expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful youâd chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that youâd chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned.Â
You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldnât work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe youâd eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway.Â
âAh, Ms. Y/L/N,â The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear heâd clearly spilled some, âYouâre here about the Filing Clerk position?â
You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You werenât sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, âYes,â You smiled, âThatâs mmm-me.â
He didnât seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, âGreat, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.â
Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, donât get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it.Â
When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your bodyâs posture.Â
âSo, tell me a little about your experience,â He started.Â
âWell,â Breath in and slowly release, âIâve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. Iâm v-vvvv-very organized; thatâs why Iâve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.â
âOrganization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.â
Deep breath in. Start slowly.Â
âIâm totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and Iâm sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think itâs important to show a p-p-person that youâre listening, even if you c-c-canât help them directly.â
He nodded, âPeople tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?â
âI like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,â Too fast. Slow down, âSssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but itâs s-something Iâm good at. And Iâd like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.â
Andyâs lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, âMs. Y/L/N, if you donât mind me askingââ
âI have a stutter,â You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, âI have it managed, mostly. When Iâm asked direct questions, or Iâm especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. Iâm interested in this job.â
Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.
âI appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but thereâs no need to be confined to this office. Iâll show you around the building.â
You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role.Â
Still, you felt small, like a child in an adultâs world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didnât press it. You explained how youâd completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, youâd only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didnât require you to take a public speaking class.Â
You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin.Â
His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, âThatâs Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.â
Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, âLetâs continue our tour.â
The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that youâd receive an update in the next week about whether theyâd chosen you.Â
You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that youâd be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, âS-Sorry,â You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, âSsss-so sss-sorry.â
Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameronâs eyes, âCareful,â He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator.Â
The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, âOh,â You breathed, âYouâre going up.â
Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.
âYeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.â
You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, âYouâre new, Iâm assuming.â
You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. âI interviewed today. File Clerk.â Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEOâhe was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.
The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, âAh, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,â he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, âEnjoy your ride down.âÂ
âB-Bye-âÂ
Shut up.Â
You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again.Â
 There went that small sliver of confidence.
You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you werenât sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars.Â
And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldnât remember you all.Â
You hoped you wouldnât run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that youâd been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor.Â
Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if sheâd actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call.Â
The twentieth floor.Â
You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new jobâs salary would soon replenish your funds. Youâd be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.
When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldnât shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.
âHi, Iâm supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?âÂ
âAre you Y/N Y/L/N?â You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you werenât in the wrong place.Â
âFollow me,â she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldnât help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. âYouâll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.â
âWh-â Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, âWhy?â
She didnât respond, and there wasnât time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room youâd ever seen.
The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andyâs view was nice ⌠you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different characterâmoodier, more intimate, and even more private.
To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.
âHolyâŚâ You spoke, as smooth as ever.Â
To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the cityâs infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him.Â
His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame ⌠you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.
"Mr. Cameron, your ten oâclock meeting," she said.
âThank you, Eleanor. Thatâll be all,â His voice was smooth and commanding, âCome sit, Ms. Y/L/N.â
He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldnât help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that youâd learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it.Â
He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, âI got a chance to look at your application and resume.â
Your eyes widened, âReally?â
He nodded, âYou never finished college. Whyâs that?â
âIâŚI donât understand,â You couldnât hide the confusion on your face, âI didnât think I-I would b-b-be âŚI thought Mr. Speer would be here.â
âHe works for me, doesnât he?â
âY-Yes-â âYou want to work for my company, donât you?â
âYes, sir,â you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.
âDid you forget my original question?â
âN-No,â You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, âI âŚI-â
He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.
âI had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I âŚall throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were ⌠not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.â
He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, âI see,â He tapped his finger against his desk, âIt took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professorâs were only passing me because of who I was.â
Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor.Â
An ugly truth for an ugly truth.
 âOh,â you whispered, not knowing what else to say.Â
âIâm saying this because it doesnât matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesnât matter to me what you think you deserve.â
âOkay,â You nodded, still unsure, âI donât think think I deserve this job. But I want it.â
âHow bad?â His lips pulled into a smirk.Â
You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that youâd practiced, âI think Iâm a really g-good fit for theââ
âNo, what would you do?â He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, âLetâs say six months from now, youâre up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. Itâs ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?â
There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that wouldâve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question.Â
Breathe in, let it out slowly, âNo, I wouldnât. I donât understand.â
âIf he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,â Rafe said, âI looked at the other applicants, theyâre all more qualified, but youâre more beautiful. Itâs a pattern Iâm starting to notice with him.â
You couldnât comprehend why heâd brought you here just to tear you downâto belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, âI-I made a mmm-mistake,â as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.
âDonât worry,â He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, âMr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and youâre free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.â
âUhm,â You blinked, caught off guard. âM-Me?â
âIâm between assistants right now and I think youâd be a perfect fit,â His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile.Â
Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole.Â
âYou want me to be your personal assistant?â You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter.Â
âI want you to be my personal assistant,â he echoed, looking amused, âI think youâre cute.â
You raised an eyebrow, âBecause Iâm a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?âÂ
âNot just that,â he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You shouldâve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat. âI think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.âÂ
âA year?â You asked, feeling foolish immediately.Â
âThatâs almost triple what you make at your barista job.â
You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, âYeah âŚâ
âSo, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?â The words hung in the air, and you couldnât bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the lineâor work for one whoâs offering to triple your salary?
âIâd love to give you more time to think it over,â he continued, glancing at his watch, âbut I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. Youâll need to decide now.â
You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, âNinety-thousand.â
âYouâre negotiating when you have no experience?â He wasnât angry, just surprised.Â
You nodded, although you were afraid youâd made a mistake. Now, youâd be escorted out by security. But youâd seen something in his eyesâsomething he wasnât trying to deny. For reasons you couldnât quite grasp, he wanted you.
âEighty-five thousand,â he countered.
You paused, âOkay.â
âOkay?â You nodded again. âGreat.â
He clapped his hands together, âW-When would I ssss-start?âÂ
âA week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.âÂ
âWardrobe?â You echoed, bewildered.Â
âI wouldâve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,â he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, âThatâll be all.â
The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen.Â
When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, âWhat happened to his last personal assistant?â You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts.Â
âMr. Cameron can be difficult to please,â She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, âLet me take your measurements.â
âOh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,â you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.
âTheyâll need to be exact,â You followed her behind the reception desk.Â
You looked at her closerâvoluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. Heâd chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldnât wrap your mind around what he saw in you.
Cute, heâd said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful.Â
You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. âAbout this wardrobe Iâll be receivingâŚâ you began cautiously.
âYouâll only wear what he picks out for you,â She said.Â
Breathe. âThatâs a little crazy, right?â
âYour job will ensure he has everything he needsâevery hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, donât you?âÂ
And you donât look nice to look at right now.
âWill I have a desk?â
Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, âThat one is yours, technically.â
âTechnically?â
âDid he mention he works from home on Fridays?â
âNo-â
âYouâll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.â
âOh.â
âYeah,â Eleanor said with a knowing nod. âDonât worry, Iâll type this all up in an email for you.â
Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadnât even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.
You could afford your own apartment. You wouldnât leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like youâve always wanted. That money would change your life.Â
Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and youâd be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. Youâd have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room.Â
When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a womanâs professional work clothes.Â
You couldnât deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didnât feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldnât shake the feeling that if you wore one, youâd resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.
Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldnât mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work?Â
The man also brought in a trunkâan oversized, luxurious piece you couldnât dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.
God, you thought despite the fact you didnât believe in him.Â
Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that.Â
When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor.Â
Dear Y/N Y/L/N,
Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant.Â
Below are some key points regarding your new position:
Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM
Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameronâs residence (Friday)
Responsibilities:Â
You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameronâs daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them.Â
You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameronâs travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels.Â
You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.
You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameronâs personal and professional life.Â
You will ensure all of Mr. Cameronâs personal needs are met.Â
Salary: $85,000
Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.
Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.
A few tips for looking your best:Â
Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameronâs preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if youâre uncomfortable wearing them.Â
Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup.Â
Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but youâre free to choose the color as long as itâs natural.Â
Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished.Â
Best regards,
Eleanor Thornton
Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron
Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.
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not to be that bitch. but if you, as a fellow white person, go and send hate or condescending messages to poc writers or artists bc they write poc reader or draw poc OCs or whatever, I'm gonna hunt you for sport. "I can't picture myself as a poc reader" fuck do you know how poc feel with how fucking racist a lot of fandoms are?? with how little inclusivity there is in stories written by white people? and they don't come to you bitches and shit on you, because they are decent human beings and know that you bitches actually don't care, because if you would, you would at least try to be more inclusive. also, how come you bitches are okay with the descriptions of reader that don't correlate with your own body (hair length, boob or ass shape, eye color, whatever it is) but as soon as reader is described to have features that are more distinct with poc you suddenly lose all your capabilities for imagination. yk why? because you're being racist like that. and you can say whatever you want about how you're "an ally actually" and all that crap bc at the end of the day, as long as you do this shit, you still are acting in racist ways, probably with racist mindsets deep rooted inside your brain. so go and work on that shit. no one is unfailable, but you should at least do your fucking best to not be a piece of shit every fucking day.
Lewis asking Max to take a knee is low-key hypocritical when you consider that British media and some of his supporters are racist towards Max and lewis hasn't said a thing about it in the past years. Just look at how Max gets booed by british crowds due to the massive hate British media is spreading against him. Where was lewis to defend Max and call that type of behavior out?
Anon, Iâm gonna hold your hand while I tell you thisâŚ..
..
..
summary: charles has been a bit too distant during your pregnancy, and what max said about his own child brought some ugly truths to the surface, hurting you in the process. charles realises his mistake, but it's just too late for you to believe him.
pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader
ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§
The quiet unlocking of the door was what had woken you, Charles was sure of it. He hadnât wanted to, mostly because he knew heâd say something stupid and piss you off. He wouldnât mean to, but he would. Thatâs what the start of the season was, thatâs what becoming a father was, thatâs what the stress did to him.Â
âHey handsome,â you smiled sleepily from the coach, all bundled up in blankets as some random Netflix series played on the screen.Â
âHey beautiful,â he exhaled harshly, then turned to you, (fake) smiling. âYou alright?â
You nodded. âJust tired,â you yawned. âWant to head to bed?â
He nodded with a groan. âYes, please.âÂ
He helped you up off the couch and it hit him how close you were to giving birth. You were in the third trimester, heavily pregnant with a slightly complicated pregnancy. He grimaced when he saw you grabbing your back in pain.Â
âAlright?â he asked as you winced.Â
You took a deep breath and continued on to your bedroom. âFine,â you said through gritted teeth, the pain easing.Â
He led you over to your side of the bed and helped you lie down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned out the lights, ready to sink into his side of the bed after his exhausting day.Â
ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§
He woke up to the sound of vomiting. It wasnât usual to hear, but it had gotten less frequent as the pregnancy went on. âYou alright baby?â he called out.Â
His question was met with more vomiting. He huffed as he pulled himself out of bed and walked to the bathroom, looking at you hunched over the toilet. He frowned and knelt beside you, holding your hair. After another few minutes the vomiting stopped and you looked up at him, exhausted and sick.Â
âFeels any better?â he asked. You shook your head and he frowned again, pulling you into his chest. He smoothed a hand through your hair as you leant against him, trying to calm yourself down. âItâs alright,â he soothed. âYouâre alright.âÂ
ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§â ŕ¨ŕ§
Brunch was going to be hell on earth for both of you, but you still both dressed up and got in the car, pretending to be excited about the family luncheon.Â
âCan you believe Max said he wouldnât miss a race for the birth of his baby?â you scoffed, scrolling through your phone as Charles drove to his motherâs house. âPoor Kelly.â
Charles gulped beside you. Heâd been dreading this conversation for weeks, unsure when to have it. Itâs not that he didnât want to be there for the birth of his child, he did, badly, but he couldnât throw away championship points for anything. Heâd make an exception if it was a sprint race, but other than that⌠he couldnât chance it. âWell, he has a good reason to,â he shrugged nervously.Â
You turned your head to him, shock painting your features. âAre you joking right now?âÂ
Charles shrugged. âNot really. Heâs the World Champion and he needs to stay on top this year, especially if itâs his last year, which heâs thinking it might be. I understand where heâs coming from.â
You were both quiet for a minute, taking in what heâd said.Â
âSo what about us?â you asked in a small voice.Â
âYouâre due on a non-race week,â he shrugged. âWe just hope she doesnât come earlier than that.âÂ
He didnât dare look over at you, scared of what he might see. He knew this was selfish, but he couldnât piss away his chance at being champion, not when heâd worked his entire life for it, not when his parents, family, and friends gave up so much. Â
âOh,â you breathed out, trying to stop yourself from crying. âAlright then.âÂ
The rest of the car ride was silent, you watched the streets of Monaco whip by you as Charles drove up to his motherâs house, and you thought. Thought about giving birth alone. Thought about how Charles had promised you heâd be there. Thought about how shitty it felt to be second to his job. You wiped your unshed tears away before you walked inside.
When you walked inside, Pascale instantly knew something was wrong. Charlotte immediately took you away to chat together, and Lorenzo was too busy giving out to Arthur about breaking up with Jade to notice, but Pascale noticed. She saw the way Charles watched you from across the room, trying desperately to catch your eye, to gauge your reaction, something.Â
She pulled him aside. âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
He sighed. âMaman, itâs nothing-â
âWhat did you say to your wife?â he demanded. He looked down, ashamed. He knew he was in the wrong, but he still felt justified, though that justification was slowly dwindling.Â
âWe were talking about how Max wouldnât miss a race for his baby, and I said Iâd do the same,â he admitted.Â
âExcuse me?â Lorenzo inserted himself in the conversation. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?âÂ
Arthur was even looking at him in disgust, Arthur. âCharles, thatâs not right-âÂ
âYou donât get to talk, alright?â he shot at his younger brother, who quietened out of shock. âAnd what else am I supposed to do? Every single year in Formula One I feel the championship falling away from me! Y/n understands-â
âShe shouldnât have to,â Pascale interjected. âDo you want that little girl? The one your wife has been carrying without complaint for 8 months?âÂ
Charles nodded vigorously. âOf course I do-!âÂ
âSo you should be there for the woman whoâs carrying her! She has been pregnant basically on her own for the past 8 months, either you were racing, or training, or enjoying your break - which meant doing extreme sports that she cannot do! That woman loves you too much to see how youâve been treating her, and itâs sad, Charles. She does everything for you, and youâre even entertaining the idea of not being there for her while she goes through possibly one of the most painful experiences of her life? Are you insane?â she argued, shocked at her own son's selfishness. âIf you cannot see that the woman you love is more important than a race win, you should really just let Y/n go and find a man that actually loves her. Not one who is more focused on his personal goals than the goals of his family. Your father and I raised you to be a racer, yes, but first and foremost we raised you to be a good person. And being a good person means being a good husband and father to your family, which is just starting.âÂ
Charles stood there for a moment in silence, ashamed of his behaviour. âYouâre right.âÂ
âI know I am,â she scoffed. âGo make it right with Y/n, now.âÂ
Charles scurried off to find you in the garden with Charlotte, she had her arms around you as you explained everything that had happened, how distant Charles had been, what heâd said about the birth, everything. Charlotte sent him a particularly withering look as he stepped out into the sun, and he knew he deserved it.Â
âCan I talk to my wife?â he asked, standing behind you.Â
âSheâs busy right now Charles,â Charlotte scoffed. âIâm just trying to calm her down from crying. Come back later.âÂ
His heart broke slightly, he knew youâd been taking the burden of the baby a lot more than he had (obviously), and he thought he was being gracious by not bringing it up. He thought he was doing the right thing by giving you space, but he was just subconsciously trying to ignore the fact that his life was going to change drastically and that he was scared. Still, he never thought heâd be the one to make you cry.Â
âPlease,â he begged.Â
You gave Charlotte a nod, and she smiled at you sadly, then left you to talk. He took the seat she had been sitting in and placed a hand on your thigh. âIâm sorry,â you whispered. âIâm ruining the whole day.âÂ
His heart actually broke then. He was being a dick, he was in the wrong, and you were apologising. What the actual fuck? He shook his head, squeezing your thigh. âNo. If anyone ruined today, it was me. My selfishness has been ruining this entire pregnancy for you,â he admitted. âAnd Iâm sorry.âÂ
You stared up at him in shock.Â
âYouâve been doing this on your own since day one, and thatâs my personal failing. Iâm sorry that I was so⌠distant. I was busy getting in my own head about my career, when the most important thing was right in front of me. Iâm sorry, and I hope youâll forgive me,â he took your hand and squeezed, looking at the ground.Â
âCharles, I know what I signed up for when I married you,â you admitted, dropping his hand. âI know youâre ambitious, I know you want to win, and I know you wonât stop until youâre the best. Sometimes it just⌠gets to me that Iâm not enough for you, that our family isnât enough for you. Itâs just⌠hard sometimes, alright? And if Iâm being honest this is a bit too much too late. I know my place in your life, and Iâve accepted it. I just hope you prioritise our daughter more than you prioritise me,â you tearfully explained before getting up and going back inside.Â
Was that really the standard heâd set for the love of his life? Surely not? He had to fix this, and quick.
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navigation for my blog :)
ferrari masterlist
CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.
@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.
"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.
"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.
"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.
"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.
"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.
"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.
"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.
"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.
"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.
i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.
@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.
âriseâ - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series iâve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her âthe day the world endedâ universe and it completely blew me away. i couldnât believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.
âwhen the bough breaksâ - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smutâŚmakes up for it. yes yes.
âi burnâ - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.
âone way or anotherâ - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. thatâs it.
âsomething wicked this way comesâ - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.
"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.
@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.
"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.
"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."
"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"
@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"
"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.
@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.
"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.
@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.
@perlelune
"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.
"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone
"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(
@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.
"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.
"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure
"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.
"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.
"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.
"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)
@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3
john bâs puppy girl
jjs mean kitten
rafes little bunny
moodboard insp by @princessbrunette mbs
this is just how i imagine it + my pinterest algorithm only shows me black girls atp so womp :3 but like just bc this is how i see them doesnt mean its how you have to!
watching team lh experience the horrors of Ferrari at the first gp was memorable. consider this your initiation, this is what we signed up for. welcome to the team. forza ferrari.
I still cannot get over the fact that Oscar kept going. Like this man. he was fully stuck in the grass after his team had prevented him from going for the win before with fucking papaya rules, and yet he grit his teeth reversed out and actually scored two points. I cannot imagine what he was feeling that moment in the grass. they had literally marked him as out of the grand prix and he said actually no, fuck that. he is my driver of the day cause he should've won that.
first ask hope i slayed đââď¸
iâm feening for some hurt/comfort so perhaps letâs start off with some, comforting flo after that devastating lost to atalanta :( & thus ending their unbeaten streak
love that ur doing this by the way, & will def be showing my gratitude through reblogs, comments, likes bc ik how hard writers work<3
âso ânh scheiĂ, ey.â florian walks inside the living room, throwing his bag against the couch as his frustration grew by the minute.
you quietly follow him inside, gently closing the door behind you as you take off your shoes.
the air around you feels heavy, each step as if your legs would break off if you donât sit down somewhere, even though you were not the one running around a football field for almost two hours.
your heart beats fast against your chest, so loud that you can feel it in your ears. having to witness all of this so closely just does something to you. it tests you in a way that you have never seen before.
your concerns are interrupted by your boyfriends loud groan echoing from the bathroom. without thinking too much, your legs already move towards him, his pain stabbing your heart. it didnât matter what you would say to him, deep down he would still blame himself and his performance today, even though he gave it his all.
your eyes meet through the bathroom mirror, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, even if he is desperately trying to hold back his angry tears. his gaze moves towards his hands that he placed on the edge of the sink, his veins prominent than ever as the ruh of all the emotions have yet to fade away.
the thickness of the situation stays put, and you feel helpless as you do not know how to approach all of this. it usually as if this season made you forget about all those days where you spent hour to comfort him from all the loses from last season, all your tricks that you had to make the man of your life smile again.
âschatzâŚâ your voice is soft as you approach him, eyes now focused on the back if his head, moving down his long neck to his broad shoulders and back. your hands gently touch his waist, rubbing it before circling his torso with your arms. your cheek is pressed against his muscular back and you sigh as you feel him exhale deeply.
âit was so unnecessary, like, i know that we couldâve done better than that..â he speaks up for the first time in a while, his voice raspy and rather shaky.
you feel his warm hand resting against your that is on his stomach, his grip on it firm. you press a small kiss against his shoulder blade, lifting one hand to massage the hair from behind.
âthatâs what comes with the game, schatz. you knew it would happen.â
âbut not during the final, fuck.â he shakes his head in disbelief, scoffing as he replays all the wrongs he did during the game.
your heart breaks a little more as you watch him blame himself for the loss, the feeling of helplessness taking place inside.
âyou have one trophy left, though, no?â you try to remind him, watching him carefully as he turns around to face you.
florian leans against the bathroom counter, jaw clenched as his eyes stay focused on your hands holding his. he nods, a new kind of determination burning through his veins.
âyeah, weâll show them that this wonât set us back.â
you feel him squeeze your hands two times, âthank youâ in your guysâ own way.
you warmly smile up at him, relieved that he somehow managed to deal with the loss in a mature and healthy way.
âyou know, itâs okay to cry, yeah?â you remind him, chuckling as you see him roll his eyes.
âja ja, iâll cry if i need to and iâll come to you if i ever need a hug.â he smiles back, thankful for your presence during this moment.
and florian knew that he met a one of a kind person with you, someone to lift his spirits and remind him if his hard work whenever he doubts himself.
you, his safe haven, his home and just his forever person.
ââââââââââââââââââââ
i need sleep.
âYeah, [he told me] just keep your head high. You know, he- I think he knows what tough times are, and I think he sees a rookie putting it in the wall on lap 1- not even lap 1, I think⌠he knows how tough it feels, and he came through to comfort me. It was a really nice gesture from him.â
Isack on Anthony Hamilton coming to comfort him.