Petit Monstre

Ice: Hey Pete, can I borrow your keys? I lost mine. Mav, grabbing and throwing something from his pocket: Yeah sure, here. Ice: ... Ice: Babe? Mav: What? Ice: This is an engagement ring. Mav, patting his pockets: STUPID CARGO PANTS AND THEIR STUPID POCKETS

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

mr & mrs | liam lawson x reader

Summary: You and Liam were teammates at Hitech for 2021. You had the biggest crush on him, but you were sure he didn't see you as anything more than a little sister. But oh, how a few basic questions could uncover the truth between you.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it?

When you walked into work in the Hitech Grand Prix building this morning, you didn’t expect to be playing the fucking newlywed game with your crush. And if you’re being honest with yourself, crush is a light way to put it. You were head over heels for your F2 teammate and best friend, Liam Lawson. There was just something about the New Zealander that always had your heart racing, your legs buckling, and your stomach dropping.

So when you were directed into the garage for a ‘different background’ from other videos you had done with Liam, your stomach lurched. Here this gorgeous man was, in all his Kiwi glory, hair waxed back but falling out of place, jeans hugging the toned curves of his legs and ass and giving you a glorious view of his bulge, and the fucking blue sweater. The same blue sweater he had worn the last time the two of you did a video that had reduced you to a stuttering mess when you first saw him.

But now it is worse. So, so much worse. He was standing in a garage. Around cars, and tyres, and grease, and all of the inanimate objects you found so sinfully appealing, and he was just right in the middle of it looking like that. You just about turned around and walked right back out.

“Mighty Mouse! There you are. I was starting to think I’d have to be the brains and beauty of the operation.” Liam called once he spotted you, and suddenly you remembered why you had never tried making a move on him. He treated you like a little sister. Nicknames like ‘kiddo’ and ‘mighty mouse’ were a regular occurrence, and they never failed to make you squirm.

“Well, you struggle to be anything but the brawn, and I think I’m even starting to overtake you there.” You teased, pushing yourself to stay casual, platonic, familial. There was so much opportunity to flirt with him, but the few times you had tried were brushed off, so you had given up many moons ago.

“Ouch Princess, that hurts.” Liam mocked, his hand cradling his chest and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to fall asleep against his chest, curled up after a rough night of-

“Who’re you calling princess, princess?” You shot back, cutting your thoughts off before they continued developing and became an issue. Liam laughed, his arm slung around your shoulder while the two of you walked over to the team that were in charge of running your activity for the afternoon.

“Ok, I don’t know if you guys have heard of it, but this game is called Mr and Mrs, one of you will have a whiteboard and wear headphones while the other tries to guess what the answers to the questions you’re writing down are. Make sense? Ok, great, let’s do an intro and go from there.” One of the guys explained quickly, and you began having flashbacks to an awful 80s game show called The Newlywed Game, and blushed profusely. Having you and Liam in a video titled ‘Mr & Mrs’ was sure to get the fans going, and you couldn’t blame Hitech’s PR plan.

You and Liam settled into the wheely chairs from the office next door, Liam positioning himself in frame of the camera and fixing his stupidly perfect hair when you came barreling toward him with your chair, legs tucked up high so you didn’t cop a chair arm to the knee. Liam screeched when you finally hit him, almost toppling off the chair in surprise while you spun slowly, laughing freely as you did so.

Liam looked over at you, your head thrown back in carefree laughter, the yellow sundress that covered your body made you look radiant, and he was sure he had never seen a sight so beautiful before. Your laughter calmed down, and as you looked over at him, he couldn’t help but send you a lovestruck smile, his eyes dopey with admiration. You blushed slightly, laughing as the team asked if you could do the intro again, but actually introduce what you were doing.

Liam slid out of the frame, and you followed his movements as you could tell a fierce battle was about to commence. Kicking off the ground with force, you tucked your legs up onto the chair again, spinning into Liam so fast, you couldn’t actually see his face before you crashed into him. The two of you exploded in laughter again, laughter and smiles were common between you, and Hitech’s Instagram was full of photos and videos of you and Liam smiling at each other, or doubled over in laughter, clutching onto each other.

“Hi, I’m Liam Lawson, and this is Y/N, we drive for Hitech in Formula 2.” Liam began once you had slowed down your laughter. He kept a firm grip on the arm of your chair, holding you close and still, as your chair really liked spinning around.

“And we’re here to play Mr & Mrs, another game in our long series championship to see who the better teammate is.” You finished, gesturing to yourself subtly, but Liam caught it and pushed your chair away jokingly. As much as you loved the man and wished you could be more, you wouldn’t give up this relationship you have with him for something that might work.

MR & MRS | EDIE-BABY

“Liam, what is Y/N’s favourite colour?” The same guy from before asked, one who Liam still didn’t recognise due to the facemask and hat he was wearing. Nevertheless, he held up a whiteboard where the question was scribbled in messy writing, three multiple choice answers written waiting for not only Liam’s, but also your answer. You had airpods in your ears, connected to the blaring music playing from one of the Hitech employees’ laptops, a whiteboard in your hand that you quickly scribbled out an answer to.

Liam looked over at you, holding the whiteboard to your chest protectively so he wouldn’t cheat, but there was really no way that he could.

“It’s not an answer listed here, but her favourite colour is a light brown. She always says it calms her down because it reminds her of a cafe she went to once back home.” Liam spoke, watching you as he answered. You didn’t hear a word he was saying, bopping your head along to the 2000s hits pumping through the earphones. Liam pulled one of them out, his head nodding over to the camera while you proudly turned the board around, thinking you had gotten one over on Liam.

“My favourite colour is light brown, because it reminds me of the Brew Cafe in my hometown, and it brings a really nostalgic and calm feeling.” You stated, watching the faces of the employees morph from business to shock. You looked over at Liam, who had a smug smile on his face while he listened to your answer.

“There’s no way you could have known that!” You protested, glaring accusingly at the dirty blonde. He laughed in response, and you couldn’t have felt happier in any given moment. Not even the top step of the podium could compare to the warmth spreading in your chest. Little did you know, Liam was feeling the exact same way.

“Y/N earphones back in, Liam your next question. What is Y/N’s favourite song at the moment?” The same guy asked, yet this time there were no multiple choice answers. Liam’s eyes widened, turning to look at you to think of any songs he had heard blasting from your speakers or earphones recently, or something that you had ranted excitedly to him about. He spoke to himself, mumbling about artists and songs he could remember falling from your lips. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, thinking about the answer to the question, when suddenly it hit him.

He had to wait a few moments as you were slowly writing down your answer, still not 100% sure of yourself. It was only after you had taken an earphone out that you jumped, furiously rubbing out the answer on the whiteboard and writing a new one, looking much more satisfied with the new answer. The team counted down, and as Liam spoke, you almost dropped the whiteboard.

“Feeling Something Bad by Ellise. She’ll start singing it randomly when she concentrates, which is usually a giveaway to what songs she's been listening to recently.” Liam said his answer so confidently that it made you feel as though you were inferior because he knew your favourite song and it took you a decent minute to think of it. Liam got another point as he had gotten two of your answers right, and you were starting to feel competitive.

“Alright Liam, who does Y/N get along with best in the F2 paddock? Oscar Piastri, Dan Ticktum, or you?”

“Oh, oh. Well, she hangs out with Oscar a lot, but I don’t know if she would say they get along better than we do? Like, she’s closer with Oscar but we get along best, if that makes sense? I don’t think it does. I’m gonna say Oscar because I don’t want to be rejected, but I really hope I’m wrong and that she says me.” Liam rambled, finally deciding on Oscar, and when you were told to turn your board around, Liam’s heart sank a little. You had written Oscar, and as you began trying to defend yourself, Liam waved it off and laughed to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but you could see it clear as day. You tried to move on like he did, to keep playing the game like you didn’t hurt her best friend and crush.

You began trying to cheer the Kiwi up, dancing along to the songs playing, and occasionally belting out the chorus. He was laughing along, finally joining you to sing when you were screaming the lyrics to Promiscuous, dancing all around the garage and trying to pull him up around with you. While you were dancing with some of the employees off camera, being recorded for Instagram, Liam was still in frame of the main camera, a fond smile on his face, and anyone who had looked at him could see that he was completely and utterly whipped for you, but you were too caught up in Nelly Furtado to see it yourself.

It was your turn to answer questions now, passing Liam the whiteboard that had a little love note written on it.

I’m going to crush you.

You wrote, and Liam thought it was adorable how competitive you got in trivial games like this, but it always made him try even harder just to give you some semblance of a battle.

“Y/N! How old was Liam when he started karting?” The guy you had begun to think was not an actual Hitech employee asked. The three ages to choose from scribbled on the whiteboard. You studied them for a moment, and could see Liam in the corner of your eye writing out his own answer.

“He was seven, because I remember him telling me that there’s regulations in New Zealand that you can’t race go-karts competitively until you’re seven and then won the race.” You explained, remembering the story he had told you easily, it was one of your favourites, purely because of the joy on Liam’s face when he recounted it.

He turned the board around, showing the exact answer you had given, and he gave you a cheeky smile in response to your silent gloating about getting a point. There was nothing cuter in his eyes than you getting so worked up about a game.

“What is Liam’s pre-race superstition?” Before the board with the question and possible answers came up, your mouth blurted out the answer you already knew all too well.

“He gets in the car from the left.” You practically yelled, and Liam looked at you with wide eyes, not hearing your words but seeing the excitement at knowing the answer.

“How did you know that?” One of the Hitech PR asked as her main priority was to stir up more rumours about the two of you, as it was always good for the team’s press.

“Because I’m just as superstitious about getting in from the right side, so when he found out, he asked the team if we could switch around how our cars are placed in the garage so that we could meet in the middle, do our little ritual, and then get in the car from there.” You explained, watching as Liam wrote down his answer with no idea of the words you were saying.

When Liam turned the board around, he explained the exact same story you had, and you giggled when he finished, showing off a proud smile before putting the pieces together that you had already run the same spiel.

“It’s quite cute that the two of you explain things using basically the same words.” That same PR lady stated. And you almost rolled your eyes, almost. But you caught Liam blushing slightly, and a small, stupid part of you began jumping up and down, because not only did someone think your relationship with Liam was cute, but he blushed at that.

“It happens when you spend so much time with someone. I’ve started picking up Kiwi slang, and he’s learning some of my slang. You don’t realise it until you say something to someone when he’s not there and they’ve got no idea what I mean. It’s so normal for Liam to always be by my side, and me by his that when I’m with other people it feels weird.” You started on a ramble, something you were known for. And then just would… not… fucking… stop. The press officer looked satisfied, but as you had finally gotten your mouth to stop moving, you were scared to look over at Liam.

“Whenever she’s not within arm’s reach, I feel like I’m missing something.” Liam spoke quietly, and you gulped as you heard his words. The man was going to kill you, surely. This little production crew didn’t give a shit about your blossoming romance though, as they hurried you through to the next questions. You and Liam barely looked at eachother, your answers shorter and much more vague than they were before. You just wanted to get out of this chair and go freak out in an empty office somewhere.

“Well, the winner of this round is Liam, which means he has officially overtaken Y/N in the Hitech championship. How do you guys feel about this one?” The producers asked. You would usually have felt a bit of a blow to your chest finding out you had been beaten in two ways, but you truly couldn’t think of anything except your proximity to Liam.

“I think we found out a lot, and I’m glad to finally be ahead in the championship. I think it’s the only time I’ll ever be able to beat Mighty Mouse in anything.” Liam chuckled, reverting back to your ‘little sister’ nickname because he felt like the distance would help him process his emotions.

“Hey, you already beat me in height, age, and supercar experience, you gotta let me have something.” You whined, you looked over at Liam with a pout and puppy eyes, unintentionally making his heart pound out of his chest.

“Well you’re the cuter one of the team, and you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me, so I’d say you’re winning enough. Plus you’re higher up in the drivers standings than me.” Liam replied, leaning closer to stare into your eyes, barely two inches between your faces, you blinked slowly, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him away.

His large hand reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then coming to rest at the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw.

“I don’t think you realise what you do to me.” You mumbled, leaning forward very slightly to nudge your nose against Liam’s. His breath hitched, eyes boring into your soul in a way that made you freeze.

“It can’t be any worse than what you do to me. Looking as beautiful as you do, all I want to do is hold you, keep you close, show you off to the world, and I want to call you mine. I want to take you home and show you around my hometown, I want to introduce you to my parents, to take you to parties with my friends, I want to curl up in your apartment watching Harry Potter movies, and I want to dance around the kitchen with you at 2 in the morning making pancakes. I want to live my life with you.” Liam confessed, and for a few moments, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

You lurched forward, balling your fists up in that stupid blue sweater and pulling him closer. Liam’s eyes closed instinctively as your lips met, the coconut lip balm you applied before you came into the office was shared on your tongues, Liam’s exploring your mouth with vigor. You had never imagined him to be this passionate, this intense. But you had no complaints, his hands tugging you forward until you fell onto his lap, legs slotting in beside his own to straddle him on the wheely chair.

You broke away for a moment to catch your breath, eyes surveying every square inch of Liam’s face to commit it to memory. He truly was a gorgeous man, and you hoped you would get to see him like this many more times to come. He caught the look in your eyes and dove back into your lips, his teeth capturing your bottom lip in a bruising grip, a whimper escaping your lips before someone clearing their throat interrupted you.

“I guess we have everything we need for the video. Thanks you two.”

Danny, through a freak accident, found out that if he puts a drop of his blood on a thing and then electrifies it, it will begin to gain sentience. Not a lot, more on par with like, a cat or dog instead of a human, but still.

So he's gonna sentient-ize people's cars.

It's perfect, because the GIW will be tracing his ecto signature across the country, only to realize that they were chasing a car.

The people that own the car will probably realize it start to sort of become a pet instead of just a mode of transportation, and when it's found to be ecto contaminated, they'll argue against the ruling that ecto-beings are just soulless husks.

He starts in the only place that will hire and angry sixteen year old with a chip on his shoulder and no prior work history or certificates.

Gotham.

Seven weeks later, Bruce is waylaid by a wild-eyed Jason who swears his motorcycle turned itself on and saved him from a sneak attack.

I will NEVER shut up about this

being madly in love with someone platonically is so ridiculous. hey man i think about you all the time. i wish you were here right now. talking to you makes me indescribably happy. i miss you. honestly what the hell

Don't Know Your Worth - LN

This is the redemption story of the request I messed up. There is a minor similarity in that the reader previously did karting, but I've changed the narrative a bit.

Summary: Max's little sister has always been in shadow, his racing career and friendship with Lando always outshining her. Lando has always made the effort to make her feel acknowledged, which is probably the bare minimum but it's definitely where her crush stems from. But can an old secret leave Lando giving away his own feelings for her?

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader

Despite her not officially being part of Quadrant, she's always helping him. In fact y/n is practically the whole marketing team behind it, she tells Max what to do and how to do everything right.

"Hey, y/n. My favourite Fewtrell." Lando greets as her brother and her walk through the paddock. An offended expression immediately being on her brother's face while she accepts a hug, only to hide her bright red face before stepping back. Not wanting to hang on too long or linger and have him catch onto her feelings.

Her crush on Lando has spanned since she saw her brother befriend the much smaller boy in their karting days. Her attention was caught by his bright cheeky smile.

"If she's your favourite maybe I should just leave." Max states jokingly but Lando yanks y/n back into a hug that she definitely wasn't expecting, even grunting when her body hits into his. "Can you stop manhandling my sister, she's not interested in your physical advances."

Lies.

But Max foolishly doesn't know that.

In fact, not only does Max not see the horribly obvious crush that his sister has on his best friend.

What neither Max nor y/n know is that Lando has had a crush on y/n for a while now. Although admittedly it is not quite as longstanding as y/n's crush on him, it's been around a couple years.

It started on her 19th birthday when she came home very drunk, like paralytic. He'd found her outside having set outside the door after several failed attempts of trying to get through the door, she gave up on it and just decided she'd sleep outside. Max, at the time, had already fallen asleep. During trying to help a very drunk and floppy Y/n get to bed, something in the way Lando saw her changed.

Then on her 20th he helped arrange a surprise trip for her birthday and she hooked up with some guy who was staying on the resort. She hooked up with the guy and the ugly jealous feeling in Lando's gut left him in a bad mood for the rest of the trip, when the guy left he was making sure to have y/n's attention at all times. That was all over a year ago now, but he still remembers that awful feeling at the sight of someone else with her.

"Come on, let's get you guys something to eat." Lando states, neither of them addressing Max's words.

They go get something to eat with Max and Lando maintaining conversation while y/n just sits quietly, as she always does.

"So y/n, you're coming to play golf and come karting with us right?" Lando smiles finally directing his attention back to y/n making her look at him for a moment.

"Oh...I uhh...I didn't think I was invited." Y/n murmurs which does earn a frown from both the men in front of her.

"You're always invited, y/n." Lando states with Max nodding in agreement. He shifts over wrapping an arm around her. "I'll always invite you at least, Max's opinion doesn't matter."

"No, it never does with you." Max hums sarcastically before he looks at his friend. "Move your arm off of her."

Maybe Max isn't as blind to everything as the two thought, even if they're unaware of each other's feelings. Though neither of them comment, but Lando does pull a face to mock the demand.

-

Golfing isn't y/n's thing and yet again Lando seems to be getting a little more hands on with her to help her get the right position. But it's when Max has to leave to help get equipment that Lando is left with y/n.

"You look great in a racing suit." Lando comments making her stop playing with the zip, a red rising up her neck and face. "I'll still never understand why you stopped karting."

Y/n's karting career did take her to championships. But she stopped when she could've went beyond karting and Lando never understood why. He'd never say it to Max, but she was better than him and showed promise to get into high title fights if she had've continued.

"Max was doing bigger and better." She murmurs honestly as Lando picks up her helmet for her.

"What?"

"Our parents...they said that they couldn't keep taking us both and Max was making a real career." Y/n shrugs then reaching for the helmet to take from him only for him to retract it back from her reach.

"Does Max know that's why?"

"I don't think so. I mean they didn't tell me while he was in the room...and he's never mentioned it." Y/n sighs hating that they're even talking about it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Sorry...I'm sorry, I just...you were so talented."

"Thanks." Y/n murmurs with a small frown before finally getting the helmet from his hand with some force.

Now Lando will support his friend through thick and thin, putting Max in charge of Quadrant wasn't just something he did because he wanted to give Max something to do. Really the idea for Quadrant had been in his mind for a while and he needed someone else to head it because he can't do it full time. But he has a feeling that y/n would've been Max's biggest rival and perhaps might've gone beyond him.

"Let's see if you're bit rusty then." Lando states trying to lighten the mood as he shoots her a smile, just in time for Max to reappear.

-

After watching y/n win the karting challenge for Quadrant with an excessively massive reaction. Y/n started trying to dodge Lando at any cost.

"Where are we going?" Y/n asks while Max drives them to a mystery location.

"You never told me that mum and dad made you quit for me." Max comments suddenly making her sigh rolling her eyes and looking out the window.

"It never mattered really. You were older and further in your career." Y/n mutters having never wanted to have this discussion wit her brother. "I didn't tell Lando for you to take pity on me and tell you. I didn't mean to tell him at all."

"Well you should've." Max scolds then readjusting to his grip as a sign that she can tell he's trying to calm down.

"Can you tell me where we're going since apparently we don't keep secrets, or we're not allowed to keep secrets?" Y/n grumbles while he sighs softly and looks at her.

"Lando wanted to set up a surprise for you. He wouldn't tell me what, just the location to take you to."

The two siblings basically go silent for the rest of the journey and when they pull up y/n is more than confused as to why they're on the tarmac of a runway where Lando is standing with a few others.

"What the hell?" Y/n murmurs as they get out and Lando grins and Max stays next to his car while Lando pulls her onto the little private jet.

"Do you remember your 19th birthday?" Lando questions making her frown since they all know she was so violently ill when she was hungover that she ended up going to A&E for alcohol poisoning after she went momentarily blind from being sick.

"No. No, I don't remember." Y/n states completely in awe of the suggestion she would remember anything.

"I've wanted to get you away from Max and take you on a date since that day." Lando declares while she feels her mouth go dry. "So I'm sort of kidnapping you and we're going on a holiday as our first date...unless you really don't want to then you can get off the jet and go home."

Lando waits for a response before she nods at him making him give Max a thumbs up out the window that he can leave.

"Lando...my 19th birthday was nearly 3 years go." Y/n mumbles making him look at her with a small smile. "Well you hid it well."

"Did I?" Lando questions not really convinced of that. "Looking back on it. You really didn't."

"Oh god, don't remind me over that. I hate that you even know." Y/n pouts then groaning as she slumps down in the seat, covering her burning face while Lando just laughs before moving over to sit down next to her. "

-

Lando took y/n to Dubai. Apparently having managed to get Ria to pack up some Dubai-appropriate clothes for her.

"What do you think Max would say if he knew what we just did?" Lando questions making y/n look at him with a wrinkled nose while Lando shoots her a grin. "What?"

"We just had sex but your mind is on my brother. Is that going to be a regular thing? Because I can handle it, I just need a heads up."

"No. But...he's the reason I never made a move earlier. So excuse me for not being able to completely ignore him invading my thoughts." Lando states sassily earning a look from the young woman. "Come back here."

Y/n sighs climbing on the hotel bed and sliding over the sheets as she returns to his side.

"Speaking of my brother...why did you tell him?" Y/n asks while Lando frowns. "I never wants him to know because it's not fair for him to feel guilty about something that he never asked for."

"Because he never knew why." Lando mumbles while she sighs since she still wishes Max never found out and it wasn't really Lando's choice to tell him. "Sorry."

"It's ok. But you could've at least told me that you told him."

"I would've but you were doing everything to dodge me. Even Max said hanging out without you there felt wrong." Lando admits then shifting just enough so he can kiss her. "You don't know how much you mean to everyone around you...it's not fair that you were made to be thought of as a second choice by your parents. But you should know, you have always been Max's favourite person. Above me, above your parents, above everyone."

Y/n frowns, trying to blink away tears at are completely fogging her vision but eventually she moves her hands to rub them away.

"Aww....baby, no." Lando laughs yanking her up into a full hug and just squeezing her. "You're not supposed to cry.

"How am I not meant to cry at that?"

"I don't know, I'm new to this boyfriend stuff. But crying is never a good sign is it?"

hi i could request mafia!carlos where he is like mean to everyone but you and is super protective and possessive with reader please!?

Mine - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 7833>

It was nearing on dinner time, and Carlos still wasn't finished with the meeting he had gone into hours ago. Business had been booming lately, and he always had people wanting to make deals with him.

The maids were scrambling, since they normally asked you or Carlos what you wanted for dinner. You didn't know, so then the responsibility usually landed on Carlos. It was such a small decision to make that would have zero consequences, but your mind had gone blank.

You knew you usually shouldn't interrupt Carlos' meetings, but it was surely nearing the end, and there probably weren't many more important things to talk about. You approached the door and heard some frustrated conversations on the inside. "I am not having this move screwed up by you fucking morons," you heard Carlos spit. 

Knocking hesitantly, you opened the door and poked your head around it. "Not right now," Carlos huffed, and he was looking rather dishevelled. His suit jacket was sitting askew on his body, his top button had been undone and his hair was ruffled due to how many times he had run his hands through it. 

Carlos looked up as the door opened, and his face completely softened. "Hey, baby, you OK?" he asked, opening his arm out to you to slot yourself into. "Can I ask you something really quick? It's OK if not, it's not important," you said as you felt the eyes of all the men in the room on you. 

"Yeah, of course, c'mere," he said, glad to see you after hours of dealing with these useless wastes of oxygen. "Turn away," he commanded the people around you, not wanting them to see you or watch your body as you approached him. 

He didn't want their dirty, sinful gazes on you, since he wouldn't be able to control what they were thinking like he could their actions. The thought of it made him sick, and he didn't want you to be exposed to the world he lived in. 

You were his serenity in the madness, and he couldn't have that tainted by people with purely bad intentions. He could keep you safe, and that was exactly what he would do until he took his dying breath. 

As the men turned their chairs away, all that could be heard was the click of your heels on the cold marble floors as they echoed in the high ceilings. "What do you want for dinner?" You asked as he rested an arm around your waist. 

"How does steak sound?" He said after thinking for a moment. 

"Yeah, good. Sorry for interrupting," you apologised, sweetly smiling at him. He looked tired, but only you would be able to tell. He would keep a stone cold, stoic face on while he was around other people, but would become the clingiest man you had ever met when it was just the two of you. 

"Don't be sorry, I'm very glad to see you," he smiled, tugging you in for a kiss on the cheek. "And we should be done within half an hour, given that these guys stop being such fuckwits," he raised his voice slightly so that the men could hear.

"I'll see you in a bit," you smiled, turning and walking back out of the meeting. Once you were out of the room, Carlos allowed the men to turn around and look at him again. They seemed to get the hint and they stopped fucking around with him, since the realised it wouldn't get them anywhere. 

If Carlos wanted something, he would get it. If he wanted something done, it would be done his way or no way. He had that power, and he was sure as hell going to use it. 

As he had said, his meeting was wrapped up within half an hour, and he had his security on the doors to make sure they all left and wouldn't try anything. You were stood on the stairs as you watched them go, and one of them sent you a flirtatious wink. 

If Carlos had done something like that, it would have sent shivers up your spine and butterflies in your stomach. But he had made you feel a shiver of disgust, an uncomfortable tingle that made you feel uneasy. 

You saw as he leant into the guy walking beside him, whispering something to him with a filthy grin plastered on his face. Carlos' ears pricked up when he heard the mention of the men seeing a beautiful woman in the house. 

"I wonder how much he pays her to saunter that cute ass of hers up to him like that, because I'd fucking give it to her," he joked, but the man he was walking with stayed silent. He saw as Carlos' face turned into pure, unbridled rage. 

Without warning, Carlos rushed up to the guy, pinning him against the wall by his collar. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he spat in his face, and the guy just stayed silent, practically shaking with fear. "I asked you a fucking question, who the fuck do you think you are talking about my wife like that?" 

Carlos let the guy sweat for a bit, and he opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He was frozen in fear and instantly regretted what he had said and he wanted so desperately to take it back. "You say anything about her again, or you so much as think about her again, I will know and I will make sure she's the last goddamn thing you get the pleasure of fucking thinking about, got it?" he said, pressing the guy against the wall even harder.

Security didn't bother intervening, knowing full well that Carlos could handle himself. They knew when to step in, but they were enjoying the show.  "Answer me when I fucking speak to you. Do you understand?" he spat in his face again. 

"Y-Yes," he stuttered, not able to meet Carlos' eyes. 

"Show some fucking respect, yes what?" Carlos said through gritted teeth, gripping onto the guy's collar as his knuckles turned white. "Yes, sir," the guy gulped, praying that Carlos would just let him go. Carlos released the man from against the wall, but not before he swung and punched him square in the face.

The sickening crunch of his nose echoed around you, and you took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the blood running down his face and dripping onto the floor. "Get the fuck out of my house," Carlos commanded as the guy scurried out of the door along with the rest of them. 

Carlos inspected his hand, his knuckles split and purple bruises were already blooming over the skin, but he still hadn't realised that you were there. He liked to keep you away from that side of his life, but you seeing snippets was inevitable.

You moved slightly, but the halls were very echoey, so he heard you, his head snapping up to where you were stood. "Hey, princess, we're all done," he said, trying to hide his hand behind his back. But, he could tell by the look on your face that you had seen something. 

"How much did you see?" he sheepishly asked, trying to stop his hand from shaking. He couldn't feel the pain now because of all the adrenaline running through his veins, but he felt this weird numbness. "All of it," you said, descending the stairs towards him.

"Well it's been taken care of now. Sorry, you shouldn't have had to see that," he apologised, his head hung low. He didn't like the look of worry on your face, your features flushed with concern. He never wanted you to stress or worry about him. "It's OK, I don't mind," you dismissed as you stood in front of him, "You go sit down, I'll get some stuff to wrap up your hand," 

"No, no, I'll do it, don't worry," he shook his head, pulling his hand away from you as you tried to inspect the damage. He could take care of himself, and he wanted to deal with the slightly painful consequences of his violent, yet just, actions. "Carlos, please," you softly sighed, not wanting him to pull away from you. 

On the day you got married, you vowed to take care of him in sickness and in health. Yes, that wasn't geared towards when your husband had broken someone's nose and his knuckles were split, but it still applied - especially in the world you were living in. 

Carlos was now at the disadvantage, since he could never say no to you. You could ask him for the world, and he would burn anyone in it to give it to you. You could ask him for the stars, and he'd go to space himself to retrieve every last one for you.

"Fine," he sighed, letting you lead him over to the dining room table. You could smell dinner being made in the kitchen next door, but you still had some time to patch Carlos up before then. "I'll be back," you told him, walking out of the room and leaving him to think for a minute. 

Just thinking about the way that guy had spoken about you was making his blood boil all over again as he clenched his fists, not caring about the sting that stretching the open wounds caused. 

He hated the fact that he knew other people had definitely spoken about you in worse ways, and thought about you. They would have this sick, twisted, perverted version of you in their dirty little minds, where they only used you and threw you away like a ragdoll. Where they only used you for your perfect body and pretty face before discarding you. 

If he had a dollar for everytime he knew someone was thinking about you, he'd be a rich man. Well, he was already rich, but he'd be filthy rich if that was the case. The worst part was: there was nothing he could do. He was only able to give that man what he deserved because he had heard him say it, but not everyone was dumb enough to say it within earshot of him. 

"Hey, you OK?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as you snapped him out of his thoughts. You had noticed that he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into the flesh of his palms and leaving red crescents behind. 

"You know, you didn't have to punch him," you said, pushing another chair right next to him and taking his hand. "I am not letting grimy bastards like him get away with saying things like that about you, not at all," he told you. 

You produced a disinfectant wipe from its packet, gently wiping it over his skin, cleaning the blood away from the area. Carlos quietly hissed as it stung, but he had been through a hell of a lot worse, so it was nothing he couldn't deal with. 

"I thought you'd seen him wink at me but I guess not..." You quietly said, rooting through the first aid kit to find bandages. "Sorry, he winked at you? Fucking pussy ass bitch got off easy then. I'll kill him, I swear to god," he seethed, and you struggled to keep his hand still while you wrapped it up. "Baby, don't worry about it, he's gone," you said. 

He was grappling with himself internally, wondering how you could remain so calm after what he had done and said. If he had it his way, Carlos would have hunted him down, punished him for a short while, then sent his body home in multiple parts over the span of a few weeks. "Sure, whatever you say," he reluctantly agreed, resting his hand to make it easier for you. 

You wrapped the soft white cotton around his still slightly bleeding knuckles, before pinning it into place so it wouldn't come off. "Thank you, princess," he smiled, placing a hand on your thigh. "No problem," you told him, resting a head onto his shoulder while you waited for dinner. 

"Have you still got that party on tonight?" You asked, tilting your head to look at him from the side. Shit he thought, having completely forgotten. It was a club that one of his associates owned, and he needed to go just to keep up appearances. Charles and Lando would be there too, so it wouldn't be all that bad. 

"Yeah, yeah I do. I won't stay out too late, don't worry," he told you, kissing you softly on the top of your head. "Can I come with you?" you sweetly asked, knowing he wouldn't want you to go. But, you had the perfect plan to make him say yes. 

"No, baby, no. You know what the people there are like," he dismissed, not wanting you around those people. Sure, Charles and Lando would be there, but they were the only other decent people that would be in your vicinity. "Please? I wanna go and have some fun," you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at him. 

Carlos sighed, not wanting to regret the decision he was about to make. "Fine, you can come, but you have to stay by my side at all times, OK?" he said, already feeling nervous about taking you. But, saying no to you was the hardest thing he would ever do in his life, and he had never done it once. 

"OK, yeah, of course," you happily giggled, glad to go out. Sure, you got to go out and do the day to day stuff, but never without security or Carlos hanging around you constantly. You understood why, since Carlos was in dangerous business with some minacious people, but it would still be nice to let loose for a night.

As soon as you had finished dinner, you ran up the stairs to get ready. Carlos smiled to himself, loving how you liked to get all dolled up whenever you went out. It also meant he would have his work cut out for him, keeping men away from you, but it was worth it if you got to feel like a million dollars. 

Carlos came up to get changed not long later, spotting you pinning your hair into place at your vanity table. "Michael is ready with the car whenever you're ready to go," he told you, speaking about your driver that had been with Carlos since before you had. 

"OK," you confirmed, finishing off your hair and applying a lick of lipstick across your lips. You walked into your wardrobe, scanning the hangers for a dress to wear. Despite the amount that you had, none of them really stood out to you. 

"I like the red one, if that helps," Carlos called out to you, walking in as he tucked his shirt into his slacks. It was like he knew what you were thinking, and he always knew the solution to combat the problem. "Which one?"

"The one you wore for my birthday last year," he smirked, and your cheeks instantly heated up at the thought of what you got up to. You had never enjoyed a club bathroom more, and I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

"Sure, I like your thinking," you nodded, taking it off the hanger and slipping your silk robe off your shoulders. Carlos just watched as you slipped the red fabric over your body. It hugged your curves and made you look like a model. 

You tried to twist your arms around to the back of the dress to zip it up, but Carlos was there in a flash to do the job for you. He braced on hand on your waist as he pulled the zip up towards your neck. When he was done, he placed soft kisses down your neck and across your bare shoulders.

"Hey, hey. Lay off it," you giggled, trying to struggle out of his grasp. 

"But I don't want to," he whined, sucking on your neck and leaving red marks on the skin. 

"Carlos!" you scolded, spinning away from him and looking at yourself in the mirror. The splotches were already turning a deep burgundy, and you ran your fingers over them. "Carlos," you sighed, pouting at him. 

"How else are people going to know you're mine? It's for your own good, I promise," he smirked, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. Carlos walked over to the shoe rack, picking out the shiny black Louboutins that he adored on you.

He placed them in front of you and you stepped into them. They made your legs look longer, and the extra few inches looked good on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, Carlos held his arm out to you, and you took it. 

"You look stunning, baby," he complimented, raking his eyes over your figure as you walked. "Thank you, you're looking rather handsome tonight," you returned.

"Thank you,"  he smiled, helping you into the car. Michael drove the pair of you to the club, and there was already a queue down the length of the street to the doors. The security guard let you and Carlos straight through with a nod of his head, pointing you in the direction of the VIP section that was cordoned off with a red rope. 

Carlos threaded an arm around your waist as you weaved through the crowd in an attempt to keep you as close to him as possible. "You stay with me at all times, no matter what. If for whatever reason you can't find me, you stay with Charles or Lando, got it?" he reiterated, leaning down to talk in your ear so you could hear him over the loudness of the club. 

"Yeah, I got it," you nodded, willing to do what he asked since he had reluctantly agreed to bring you with him in the first place. He saw people's eyes rake over your figure for longer than his liking, and he hated how sleazy the guys that came to these places were.

There was not a single good thing about them - they were truly the scum of the Earth that he wished he could squash beneath his feet. They were the reason he hated bringing you anywhere with him, and he didn't want them anywhere near you. 

Carlos was on edge, to say the least, as he gripped onto your waist and tugged you impossibly closer to him. Charles and Lando were easy to spot as they sat together, downing some sort of shot. "Hey, guys," Carlos alerted them of your presence and they stood up to hug you. 

"Hey Carlos, Y/N, you guys want a drink?" Lando shouted over the music, pointing to where the bar was. "Yeah, I'll come with, Y/N wait here with Charles," Carlos instructed, walking over with Lando. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over at you every five seconds as he waited for your drinks, and he hated being away from you. 

Yes, it was only for barely even five minutes, you were in safe hands with Charles and you were in very clear view, but he still felt like he was too far away from you. Lando moved to the other side of Carlos, nodding over to two guys standing next to them at the bar. 

"Listen," he said, and Carlos trained his ears on their conversation. 

"You see the chick in the red dress?" one of them said, pointing in the direction of where you were sat. "Yeah, the one with Leclerc?" the other asked. 

"Yeah, she is a knock-out. I'll bet you fifty that I can get with her tonight," he smirked, hitting his friend in the shoulder. "Isn't she with Leclerc? He won't let you anywhere near her," 

"No, he flies solo. She's probably just some trouncing bimbo after his money, she'll be an easy catch," he said, holding his hand out for him to shake in agreement. 

"I'll take the one on the left, you get the one on the right," Lando said in his ear, eyes glued to the men who were starting to get suspicious. Carlos didn't want to cause a scene, so he had already, unfortunately, ruled out any form of violence. "No, no, I've got it covered," Carlos said, and Lando knew he'd be fine. 

As Carlos approached, the men instantly knew who he was. "The chick in the red dress is pretty cute, you should go for it," he started, giving them a bit of confidence as small, sly smiles formed on their lips. "If you want to die, that is."

For a moment, they looked at him, confusion written all over their features. They really were thick and couldn't connect the dots that had all been laid out perfectly for them. "If you want to keep living your miserable, pitiful, useless little lives, I'd suggest you don't talk about or look at my wife ever again," he told them, suddenly turning serious.

Their faces completely dropped in horror as they backed away. Carlos was using every ounce of self-control that he possessed to not hit them. "S-sorry," one stuttered. Carlos loved to watch them squirm, loved to see the pure fear he could feel radiating from them.

"You should be, now fuck off," Carlos spat, wanting them out of his sight. He turned back to Lando and picked up your drinks, making a beeline straight for where you were with Charles. He sat beside you, so close that your thighs were touching as he wrapped a comfortable arm around your waist. 

Holding onto you made him feel a bit more easy, knowing he could keep you safe if you were closer to him. As the boys settled into casual conversation, you had already finished your drink and were wanting another one. 

As you usually would, you stood from your seat and started to walk towards the bar. "Hey, where are you going?" Carlos asked, grabbing your wrist. 

"I'm going to get a drink, does anyone want one?" you asked, not seeing the meaning behind his question. "Not by yourself you're not, princess," he sighed, going to stand up with you.

"Don't worry about it, you guys got the last round, these are on me," Charles chirped, leaving the table. Carlos pulled you back down beside him as Lando carried on talking. "Remember, you don't go anywhere without me," he muttered in your ear.

No matter what, Carlos always had an arm around your waist or your shoulders, or a hand firmly on your thigh. People needed to see that you were his, and if they couldn't tell by the closeness of how you were sat with him, or the now purple marks down your neck and shoulders, then they'd be able to tell by the grasp he always had on you. 

"I'm going to the bathroom," you told Carlos, taking his hand and standing from your seat again. "OK, I'll come with," he said, glad that you had told him where you were going. You were doing as he'd asked, and that made him happy. 

"You wait here, I'll be out in a second," you said, trying to leave him by the door of the women's bathroom. Once he was sure you were in, he walked in and stood by the sinks. For all he knew, there could have already been some dickhead in there, waiting for some unassuming victim to walk into their lair. 

One of the doors in front of him opened, and it was like the past was walking right out of there and smacking him square in the face. "Carlos! If you wanted to see me, you certainly didn't have to follow me in here," she winked, the pitch of her voice sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine. 

"Marissa," he acknowledged, mentally willing you to hurry up so that he wouldn't have to deal with her for long. "Bit dodgy waiting in the ladies' room, don't you think?" she asked, sauntering up to him and running her hands across his chest. "Someone's been working out-"

"Get off me," he snapped, batting her hands away. Her touch felt agonizing, her fingertips like ice that he could feel through his shirt.  "Aw Carlos, don't be so rude to your old friend, it's not like you're with anyone either," she cooed, her voice turning sultry in a way that was supposed to be seductive. 

Rewind seven or so years, and Carlos would have fallen for her false charms and taken her home, maybe spent some of his hard earned money on her. But now, he had new eyes and saw right through her facade. He was glad to be out of that period of his life, because he was forced to become a better man, and that meant he could have you, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. 

"I'm married, I'm waiting for my wife at the moment," he deadpanned, stepping away from her and folding his arms as a way to block her off from him. "Carlos Sainz? Married? Oh that's a funny one," she giggled, twirling her dark hair around her finger. 

"I'm glad you found it funny, because I'm serious," he said, not even giving her the decency of eye contact as he spoke. "My Carlos would never commit to a relationship, let alone marry someone," she said like she knew him. She might have at one point, but she certainly didn't anymore. 

"I'm not your Carlos, and I never will be again. Now go and enjoy your evening," Carlos told her, trying to get rid of her. "How about you come to my table? We've got drinks, you can bring Norris and Leclerc, I'm sure they'd love to get in on the fun," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. 

"Marissa just piss off will you?" Carlos spat. As if by the grace of god, the other bathroom stall opened and you walked up. "Baby? Who's this?" You asked as if you hadn't heard their entire interaction.  "Hey princess, this is Marissa, old friend of mine," Carlos explained, immediately welcoming you into his embrace. 

"We were a lot more than friends," she smirked, clearly trying to make you mad. But, you knew that Carlos had a past, not a great one, but it was still a past he had been open and honest about. "I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you," you sweetly smiled, ignoring her comment.

You held your left hand for her to shake, your engagement ring shining bright and proud under the harsh lights of the bathroom. To be blunt, the rock that sat on your finger was massive, and unmissable. Marissa clearly caught it in her eyeline and visibly grimaced, before plastering a fake smile on her plastic lips. 

"Likewise," she practically hissed at you, before turning back to Carlos. "Well, it's been nice chatting, but I'm going to have to go. Call me, Carlos. I've missed you," she flirted as one last attempt to make you mad, but you just found it pitiful. 

When you knew she was gone, you turned to Carlos. "Call me, Carlos, I've missed you," you giggled, mocking Marissa's voice. He chuckled along, glad to have you back in his arms. "Come on, let's get back out there," Carlos said, pulling you along with him.

As you approached Lando and Charles again, you heard them cackling. "You will never guess who just came over here," Charles laughed, playfully whacking Lando on the shoulder. 

"Looks like a walking corpse, awful voice, and an absolute slut for you, Carlos!" Lando giggled like a schoolboy. "Marissa?" Carlos said, cocking an eyebrow as if he were genuinely unknowing as to who they were talking about. "Aren't you clever, how'd you guess?" Lando sarcastically chuckled as the two of you sat down.

"Because she just tried to fuck me in the bathroom while I was waiting for Y/N," Carlos told them as he watched their faces turned shocked, yet extremely amused. "Shit no way!" Charles exclaimed.

"Yes way, I could hear her touching him and she said 'Someone's been working out' and I wanted to kill the bitch," you explained, Charles and Lando loudly laughing. Carlos was flabbergasted. He had never heard you say you wanted to kill anyone, or inflict any type of violence towards someone.

You were always so soft and compassionate, but he found this side to you amusing. "She might as well have gotten down on her knees and begged for it. 'Please fuck me Carlos, I'm a desperate whore for it!'" You mimed, causing Charles and Lando to double over due to how hard they were laughing.

Carlos, on the other hand, wanted you to say it again, but without mimicking Marissa. You had never begged for it, because you never had to. He gave you whatever you wanted at the drop of the hat, and most of the time, you never really asked for it. He just gave it to you. He gave anything to you.

You were loving the bitching session you were having with Charles and Lando, Carlos occasionally chipping in with a few words. Taking Carlos' hand, you inspected the red scabs on his knuckles. He was able to take the bandage off before you came out, since they had healed over pretty quickly. 

"Who did you beat this time?" Lando asked with an air of levity, since he knew what Carlos was like. He had a short temper most of the time, especially when it came to anything to do with you. "Just some fuck who needs to wash his mouth out with bleach," Carlos tutted, looking at the red crusts scattered around the skin. 

"I'm surprised the guy is still alive," Charles chuckled, and you never really got used to how braizen they were about ending people's lives. "So am I," Carlos agreed. You all carried on talking, and Carlos could feel eyes on him on occasion.

He looked over, past the red rope to see Marissa with her friends, all smiling and waving. He just rolled his eyes, but he saw there was a group of men with them that they had lured in. He supposed it was supposed to make him jealous, but it just made him feel sorry for them.

The guy's eyes kept on wandering onto you, and he was really wondering if this was going to be the third guy he'd have to have a word with for looking at you. It would be a new record. He stared daggers at the guy, but his eyes weren't averting from you.

He was sick of telling people you were his and he was yours. He figured he might as well just show them. You were completely oblivious to it, chatting merrily with Charles and Lando still.

Charles and Lando had clocked that he was staring someone down, and that always proved that he had something up his sleeve. "Baby, c'mere," he said, tugging you onto his lap by your waist. You straddled his thigh, slightly shifting around to get comfortable. 

None of them seemed to get the hint, as the group of them carried on smirking and chatting while still watching you and Carlos. Marissa winked at Carlos, and he just couldn't take it. Without warning, Carlos captured your lips in a heated kiss. 

He pulled you closer to him as your tongues danced in harmony and your hands kept him with you on the sides of his face. He kept on kissing you, barely giving you any room to breathe, but you didn't care. Kissing him was better than oxygen. 

As you continued, you subconsciously rolled your hips against his thigh, and he had to brace his hands on your waist to keep you still. If you carried on like that, it would send him absolutely feral, and that was not what you needed right now. "Sorry," you smirked as you realised what he was doing. 

"Don't be, not for that," he breathed, his heart pounding out of his chest as the group on the other side of the club finally got what you were doing, and finally started minding their own business. 

You noticed a few of the boy's business associated approaching where you were sat, so you went to move from his lap. "No, you're staying right there," he said lowly in your ear, and you were happy to stay there. 

It felt like he was talking to them for hours, and he probably was. They weren't really talking about anything of importance, since you were in public, but it was business enough to become boring. Carlos' work and deals never really interested you, you just cared that he was enjoying himself. 

You yawned, resting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. You had enjoyed your evening, but you were starting to become a bit weary. "You tired?" Carlos asked quietly. "Just a little bit," you confirmed as his fingers traced up and down your spine. 

"We can go home, Charles and Lando are coming back with us because we've got some stuff we need to talk about, but we can go," he told you.

"It's OK, you can carry on talking to people, I don't mind," you yawned again, still clinging onto him. Sure, it was loud in there, but you didn't really mind. You were safe and comfortable with Carlos, so you weren't really bothered. 

"No, we're going home. My baby is tired, and she is top priority," he said, noticing how your eyes were slightly reddened due to tiredness. You didn't protest, simply letting him stand you on the floor. He said his goodbyes, and walked out with you, Charles and Lando. 

Just as you got out to the pavement, where Michael was waiting for the four of you, you heard a shriek and you audibly groaned. "Carlos! Can you drive me home? I don't have a ride," Marissa appeared, attaching herself to his other arm. 

"Get off me," he said, swatting her away from him like a fly on the wall. 

"What, so you're just going to leave me here, with all of these people who want to take advantage of me?" she cried, scurrying along behind you.

"If it'll get rid of you, then that sounds like the perfect plan," he scoffed, opening the front passenger door for you to get in, but you didn't budge from where you were stood. You weren't the possessive type like Carlos was, since you knew he was completely loyal to you, but Marissa was getting on your nerves. 

"Please? I'll reward you," she hummed, stepping closer to him. You were getting sick of it, and you couldn't hold yourself back. "Get your slutty ass away from my husband, whore," you spat, stepping in between them.  

Marissa's eyes were clouded with darkness as she turned to look at you. "I think you'll find that your husband loves a whore," she countered, closing the gap between the two of you. 

"I'm sure one of those men you were throwing yourself at tonight would love to take you home, but they probably find you insufferable as well," you said, crossing your arms as she got ever more close to you. 

It was as if the events unfolded in slow motion, as her arm raised, ready to bitch slap you in the face. Carlos was quicker though, grabbing her wrist. "You've seen what I've done to people, so don't think I'm scared to add you to the long list of individuals who have fallen to my mercy," he told her, and her face was priceless.

Carlos liked it when people were scared of him, and he especially liked it when the people were people who he thoroughly disliked. "Alright, alright, whatever. Someone else will gladly take me home," she scoffed, walking away.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Carlos asked, holding the car door open for you again. "Oh I'm still here, she just got on my final nerve. That bitch put her hands on what's mine, and I can't have that," you smirked, hopping in and closing the door behind you. 

He'd love to hear you talk like that more often. He didn't get to see that side of you regularly, but when he did, it made this tiny thing in his brain tick.

Charles, Lando and Carlos all clambered into the back seat as Michael pulled away from the club. The car ride was serene compared to the bustling atmosphere of the club, and it had gotten completely dark outside. 

Once you were home, Charles and Lando went to sit in the living room and Carlos escorted you upstairs. For a second, you just stood in the middle of the room, not mustering up the energy to undress yourself. Carlos knew you too well, his hands finding the zip of your dress. 

"Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling you backwards so that you were closer to him. 

"Yeah," you nodded, appreciating that he was asking, even if he knew you would always say yes. "Thank you," he softly said, tugging the zip all the way down to the small of your back, the garment falling off your body into a pool around your feet. 

"Do you want to put this on for now?" he asked, unhooking your robe from the back of the door. "Yeah, thank you," you said as he slotted your arms through the sleeves and tied the thin belt around your waist. "No problem, baby," he smiled, leading you over to the bed and gently sitting you down on the edge of it. 

Carlos sunk to his knees in front of you, taking your left foot into his hand and slipping your heel off of you. He moved his hands over to the other foot, taking your other heel off. He leant forward, gently kissing the inside of your calf, his lips soft against your skin. 

His lips moved up, to the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before he stood and leant over to kiss you on the forehead. "What do you want to sleep in?" he asked, standing in front of you with his arms folded. 

He had taken his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair in the corner. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and he had undone his top two buttons. He looked downright delicious, but you couldn't help but want to see what was underneath the blue cotton. 

It clung to every muscle of his arms and chest, and his cheeks were flushed a slight red due to the alcohol he had drunk. "I want this," you said, tugging at the material of his shirt. Yes, you did want the shirt, but you also wanted an excuse to see his brilliant physique. 

Carlos just chuckled, seeing right through your facade, but he did as you asked anyway. He didn't say anything, he untucked it from his slacks and unbuttoned the rest of it, shrugging it off his shoulders and handing it to you. "Thank you, baby," you smirked, taking it from him. 

You took your robe off and slipped your arms through the rolled up sleeves, only doing a few of the bottom buttons up. As you sat there, you couldn't help but stare at him. Perfectly sculpted muscles under lusciously tanned skin, the perfect combination. And it looked damn good on him.

"If you wanted me shirtless, all you had to do was ask, princess," he teased, a smug smile dancing across his face as he noticed your staring. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that, but he knew he was. And he knew that his girl knew it too. 

"You're not going to do anymore of those buttons up?" he smirked, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was staring. He would have rather looked without the shirt in his way, but Charles and Lando were downstairs, so he needed to remain calm. 

"No, it's comfier this way," you smiled as he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a pack of makeup wipes in his hand. He sat beside you, gently wiping away the makeup from your face. 

He held your chin with his fingers as he tilted your head up to look at him, making it easier for him to get everything off. "There we go," he softly said, inspecting your face to make sure he had gotten everything. "Can I take these out?" he asked, fingers tapping at the pins in your hair. 

"Yeah, course," you confirmed, tilting your head down this time. He pulled the pins out of place, your hair falling all around your face. Carlos moved to sit behind you, splitting your hair into three strands and plaiting the sections and tying them. 

"There you go, now you are all ready for bed," he smiled as you shuffled over to your side of the bed. He pulled the duvet over your body, kissing you on the forehead. "I'll be up as soon as I can, the stuff with Charles and Lando shouldn't take too long," he told you. 

"No rush, take your time," you mumbled, your eyes falling shut already. Carlos collected another shirt from the wardrobe and turned the lights off. As he walked down the stairs, Charles and Lando saw that he was buttoning up the other shirt he had to get. 

"What were you up to up there, Carlos?" Lando mischievously giggled, leaning forward in his seat. "Now we know why you had to take Y/N upstairs and she couldn't go by herself in her own house," Charles chipped in, also giggling along. 

"If that was the case, I sure as hell wouldn't be back down here with you two. Now, what do you want to drink?" Carlos asked, approaching the drinks trolley that sat in the corner of the room. "Whatever alcoholic substance you'll give me," Lando said, and Carlos poured three glasses of some amber liquid for them.

"Perfect, now let's talk business," Charles smiled, taking his glass and handing one of the others to Lando. "So, transport is sorted, but we might have to make some changes to the personnel carrying it out, since the guys I talked to earlier today are thick as pig shit," Carlos explained.

"I've got the cargo waiting in the port until we send for it to be moved. I've had it all tested and counted every morning and every night since it's been there," Charles told them, and they carried on with their business talk. 

You were still upstairs, tossing and turning. It had felt like hours since you had gotten into bed, but it had only been half an hour when you checked the clock on your bedside table. You had slept without Carlos plenty of times, but tonight was just one of those nights where you didn't want to. 

Carlos had said he wasn't going to be too long, but you thought that the time you were waiting for was starting to constitute as long. There was no use in just waiting for an answer, so you shuffled out of bed and buttoned up your (Carlos') shirt a bit more. 

You padded down the stairs as you heard them talking about yachts or something. Whatever it was, they seemed to have strayed away from business, but you never know. They could have started selling yachts.

"Carlos," Charles alerted him to your presence as you descended. He suddenly didn't have a single brain cell focused on business, he was solely thinking about why you would've come downstairs. One part of his brain started to worry that something was wrong, but you looked fine. 

"Eyes off, boys," he quietly said, Charles and Lando averting their eyes from your shirt-clad figure. They knew how protective and possessive Carlos was with you, and they respected it. He didn't want anyone else seeing his girl the way he did.  "Sorry to be a pest, I was just wondering what time you were coming to bed?" You asked, hoping he would just come up right away, but you weren't expecting anything. "Soon, I promise," he confirmed. He knew you didn't sleep overly well without him.

When he was holding you in his arms as you slept, you felt completely safe and like nothing could possibly harm you. Carlos had promised to protect you until he took his final breath, and you believed him. You had grown so used to being around him all the time, that you never wanted to be away from him. 

"OK, sorry to interrupt again," you apologised, turning away and heading back for the stairs. "Don't be sorry, baby, it's OK," he told you, watching until you disappeared upstairs. Carlos finished up with whatever needed doing, and he said his goodnights to Charles and Lando. 

"So, we've got the shipment moving on Thursday, set to arrive in Madrid on Saturday, and I'll be at the halfway point in Lyon, Carlos will be in Madrid, Lando will be at the start in Prague," Charles confirmed, outlining the basics of the big move that was happening. 

"Yeah, and I'll be meeting you guys in Madrid on the Saturday as well to check up on everything," Lando nodded. Carlos had planned for you two to spend a couple of days in Madrid after everything had happened, and he was looking forward to the days away.

"You guys can hang around for a bit if you want, help yourself to anything and leave whenever," Carlos said, standing from his chair and leaving his glass on the table. Yes, Charles and Lando may have been his business associates, but they were also his closest friends that he trusted, so leaving them in the house wasn't an issue. They all had each other's backs, and were always there when needed. 

"I'm here now, Miss Needy," he teased, opening the bedroom door and closing it behind him. "You didn't have to come up earlier than you planned, you know?" you sighed, rolling to face away from him. You didn't want to see that smug smirk of his, even when it was plastered on his handsome face.

"Well I did. If you want me, you have me at anytime of the day, no matter what, princess. But I know you already know that," he told you, clambering into bed behind you. "Goodnight," he mumbled, instantly feeling tired as he got comfortable.

Carlos wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could, nuzzling his head into your neck as he softly kissed it. "Goodnight, Carlos," you muttered through that darkness, already feeling more at ease with his mere presence. 

You may have lived in a dark, definitely illegal world, but you wouldn't trade it for anything. Carlos' job was less than desirable to you, but he seemed to enjoy the thrill, so you joined him for the ride, and you always would. 

A/N - OK so I absolutely adored writing this, I don't know if this is very 'mafia', but I still thoroughly enjoyed myself. I don't know why I'm suggesting this, since I'm already really behind on this, but would you want a part 2 in Madrid with some... Mafia drama? I won't elaborate, just lmk! Requests are open, love you! 💖

|masterlist|

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly. 

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris. 

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.” 

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage. 

“Y/n?” 

Max. 

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler. 

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table. 

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement. 

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room. 

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel. 

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked. 

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through, 

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward. 

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied. 

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner. 

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing. 

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point. 

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj. 

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder. 

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you. 

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”