˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO2
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Where Y/n, in an attempt to escape from Charles, her rival, fails because Charles keeps getting closer, and Y/n starts to like it.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Cute, Charles has improved from his foolishness, nothing too serious in this one, just fluff 🤍
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: I didn’t really like this story, it feels like I couldn’t develop it very well, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.
˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part one here ! 🤍
You couldn’t deny how Charles’ proximity brought several consequences, like: the media. Everyone was speculating so many things that happened between you two, theories totally out of reality. You tried to avoid him as much as you could or push him away, but he was always there, and that irritated you.
When you thought the wave of bad luck had ended, the universe conspired against you again.
This time it wasn’t your fault. It was finally your chance to make it to the podium, you were in second place, and because of a mistake from your team, you ended up in sixteenth place. After the race, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, and everyone knew it.
Then you hear a knock on the door but completely ignore it.
“I know you’re in there,” Charles says, and you just ignore him again.
After a while, you hear another knock. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.
“Go away, Leclerc,” you say straightforwardly.
After your response, there’s a deadly silence, then you just close your eyes and sigh. But within a few seconds, you get startled when your door opens.
Clearly, Charles hadn’t left, so he decides to check and see how you’re doing, then opens the unlocked door.
“Are you crazy, you idiot?” you say, irritated as he enters, still recovering from the shock. Charles smiles and leans against the doorframe.
“Before anything, I need to know. Are you going to break something? Because if you are, just let me know and I’ll leave,” Charles asks calmly, making your blood boil.
“I’ll break you, idiot!” you say, throwing a pillow at him, which he just catches.
“Look how bold you are,” Charles laughs, and you huff.
“Go to hell.” Your voice is quieter now. “What kind of idiot enters someone’s room uninvited?”
He ignores the provocation and gets closer, throwing himself on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Stressing yourself out alone won’t help anything, you know?” You squint your eyes at his words.
“Since when do you care about what I do?” He doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, like he’s analyzing every expression.
“Since when did you stop hating me?” Charles says, and in that instant, you freeze.
His gaze locks on you for a second that’s too long, and for the first time, there’s something beyond rivalry there.
You look away, feeling your heart race in a way that annoys you deeply.
“Go screw yourself,” you say, still not looking at him, and Charles laughs softly.
“You’ve said that before, Y/n.”
He stands up and walks towards the door. But before leaving, he throws one last provocation:
“Try not to think too much about me, Y/n.”
And then, he leaves, leaving you even more confused and furious than before, not knowing what to respond.
The tension between you two grows to an unbearable point. Everything explodes in a tense practice, where Charles makes an aggressive move, and Y/n nearly hits the wall.
When you both get out of the cars, she goes straight to him in the pit lane, pushing him in the chest.
“What’s your problem?! You could’ve slammed me into the wall!”
Charles grabs her wrists, stopping her from pushing him again.
“You’re shaking. Are you scared, Y/n?” he asks, almost choking on the words.
You pull your arms forcefully, your face burning with anger.
“I will NEVER be afraid of you!”
He leans in slightly, closing the distance between them.
“Then why is your heart beating so fast?”
You’re so angry that you almost punch him right there. But instead, you just glare at him with hatred and walk away.
But, for the first time, that hatred doesn’t feel so simple.
After that fight, Charles pulls back a bit. He stops provoking her so much, but Y/n misses it. This deeply irritates her.
Until one night, before an important race, she finds him alone in the pits, sitting with his arms crossed, staring at the car.
Without thinking, you approach him.
“So, you think sometimes too. I thought you only talked nonsense.” You say, stopping beside him.
Charles smiles, but doesn’t make a joke.
“Hey, what’s up, idiot? You’re way too quiet.” Her question makes him sigh.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be tough,” Charles murmurs.
“You always say that, and in the end, you go speeding like there’s no tomorrow.” You respond, rolling your eyes, stating the obvious.
He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his face.
“This time it’s weird. I’ve been feeling bad since yesterday, like I have a fever or something.” His words make you worry, but you don’t show it.
“If they find out, they won’t let me race. So you’re the only one who knows, and if you tell anyone, you’re done.” He says jokingly, and you cross your arms, skeptical.
“So you’re gonna hide this until you pass out in the car? Great plan.”
Charles gives a slight smile.
“I thought you’d like the idea. If I pass out, you can finally get first place.” You roll your eyes, but inside, you feel a strange tightness in your chest. He was really sick. And still, he was there, ready to race.
You sigh. You didn’t understand why this feeling of worry, especially since, above all, you hated each other, right? Of course, you hated each other, and could never be friends.
“You’re an idiot. But a fast idiot.” Charles turns his face to Y/n, surprised by the concern.
“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Charles says sincerely, and you just roll your eyes as if you hadn’t said anything, but the truth was that you were really “kind,” and you didn’t understand why.
“Don’t get used to it,” you say bluntly.
But when you leave, you hate admitting that something between you two has changed.
And you didn’t know what it was.
The heat inside the car was suffocating, and Charles felt the sweat trickling down his neck as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His body felt heavy, the fever draining his strength, but he couldn’t back down.
On the radio, the voice of the team sounded distant.
“Charles, how are the conditions?” The engineer asks, as usual.
He presses the radio button, trying to sound normal.
“Everything’s under control.”
Nothing was under control, and Charles knew it, but he couldn’t admit it. The race seemed to last longer than expected, every corner demanding more from him than he was used to. His vision seemed blurry at times, but he was already here, and there was no way to quit.
A few laps later, Y/n had already noticed something was wrong. She saw Henrique in the rearview mirror, struggling more than usual to keep pace. He wasn’t driving with his usual aggression.
“Shit, he’s worse than he seemed yesterday,” you think to yourself, growing concern building up.
You grip the steering wheel, frustrated with yourself. Why were you worrying about him?
On lap 38, a mistake. Small, but enough.
Charles brakes too late in a corner and ends up sliding, losing position to Y/n. You pass him, but, when glancing at the car beside you, you see his hand trembling on the steering wheel.
He won’t make it through the entire race.
Y/n’s engineer’s voice comes through the radio:
“Good job, P2 now. Keep pushing the leader.” Your engineer says happily, but you weren’t on the same level of happiness.
You should be satisfied. But, for the first time, you weren’t.
When the race ends, Charles can barely get out of the car. As soon as his feet hit the ground, his legs give out. The fever, the exhaustion… everything hit him at once. He stumbles a little, trying to hide it, but before he can fall, someone catches him.
You hold his arm firmly, preventing him from collapsing right there.
“I knew you were gonna do this shit,” you say, irritated.
Charles lets out a weak laugh.
“And I knew you’d catch me if I fell.” Charles says, cocky, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go of his arm.
The journalists notice the scene and begin to approach with cameras and microphones, sniffing out an interesting moment.
Before anyone can ask anything, Y/n steps forward, blocking Charles from their view.
“No questions right now. He needs rest.” You say firmly, but the journalists don’t leave.
Charles looks at you, surprised by the attitude. He didn’t expect this from you, not really.
“Come on, before I regret helping you.” You say, helping him again, making his body lean against yours.
Charles smiles lightly, liking the idea of being close to you.
“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I swear, if you say that again…” you say, impatient, but a slight blush creeping onto your face. Thankfully, you could say it was because of the race.
Charles laughs, but inside, he feels that something between you two has changed.
The deafening roar of the engines had faded, replaced by the cheers and applause of the crowd. You had won. Your first victory in Formula 1.
It was a dream come true, beyond just proving your ability and strength to everyone. You were radiant like never before, a genuine smile on your face.
You were on the podium, holding the trophy, champagne dripping through your fingers. Max and Lando, beside you, were smiling, but you could barely process anything. The world seemed like a blur of emotions and adrenaline. Your first victory after racing against rumors and trying to prove you were capable. And even more so, you were beside people you could trust and count on forever.
The podium ceremony and trophy presentation, you couldn’t have been happier. Lando and Max, without excitement, sprayed champagne on you, celebrating.
When you were finally ready for interviews, you felt someone pull you by the wrist to a secluded spot.
You had seen this scene before, and your heart sank.
“Lando, please don’t tell me it’s another fake news about me,” you murmur sadly, and when you turn, you see Charles.
He says nothing. He just looks at you with an intensity that makes you forget all the confusion around you.
“You did it.” His voice is quieter than you imagined, but there’s a genuine smile on Charles’ face. You laugh, sighing.
“I did it, didn’t I? This is crazy. Doesn’t even feel real!” you say, like a child who just got a candy. You’re so happy, and it captivates your rival.
Charles hesitates for a second. You notice he wants to say something else, but at the last moment, he just smiles and pulls you into a tight, unexpected hug.
This time, you don’t resist and hug him back.
You both pull away from the hug, and the adrenaline runs through your body. Until you hear someone call your name, you quickly say a “see you later” to Charles and leave him there alone, thinking.
Charles’ heart hurt when he saw your fear that there might be more bad news about you.
It was clear Charles had been a jerk to you since he entered Formula 1, but he really didn’t understand why.
Maybe it was because pretending to hate you was easier than saying he loved you.
But he felt guilty instantly when he saw you broken, crying on Lando’s shoulder, when he saw you more vulnerable than ever.
He hated everyone who made you cry, and from that day on, he made a promise to himself: he didn’t want to be that kind of person.
The team decided to celebrate the win with a dinner. Everyone was there – the engineers, the drivers, even some members of the media. You were sitting next to Lando, listening to some nonsense joke he was telling, but you could feel a gaze on you.
When you looked up, there he was.
Charles, across the table, holding a glass, watching you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
His eyes didn’t shift, not even when you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something.
Small, discreet, but the kind of smile that made something inside you tremble.
You swallow hard and look away.
You turn back to Lando to hide it, but soon laugh at a completely absurd joke, laughing the same way Lando did at his own joke.
Later that night, you were outside the restaurant, enjoying the fresh air. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the muffled sound of the celebration still echoed from inside.
“Running away from your own party?” You jump, startled, as soon as you hear someone behind you.
But as soon as you recognize the familiar voice, your heart skips a beat. You slowly turn around, and Charles is there, hands in his pockets, that intense look again.
“I just needed a moment.” You reply, looking away from Charles, now staring at the ground.
He nods and steps closer, stopping beside you. The silence between you two feels different now. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not easy to ignore either. When you look up again and look at Charles beside you, your heart skips.
Then, he extends his hand and, without warning, brushes a strand of hair from your face.
Your body stiffens. The touch is brief, but the skin where he touched feels like it’s burning. You see when Charles notices. You see when he finally understands.
And then, he smiles again.
“This might be a problem,” Charles says, looking at you with a smile. You just breathe deeply and nod, now looking away at the view in front of you. You can feel Charles staring at you.
In the next race, everything seemed normal. Or at least, it should have been.
You were talking with Lando and Max in the paddock, laughing at some silly thing Lando had just said. The atmosphere was light and relaxed, until you felt that gaze again.
He was just a few meters away, arms crossed, listening to an engineer speak, but clearly not paying attention. His gaze was fixed on you. You did everything to hide the nervousness he caused, but your cheeks flushed slightly, and once again, your heart was faltering. You tried to focus on the conversation between the two drivers in front of you, but you failed miserably.
When your eyes met, something shifted. Your breath stopped in your throat, and time seemed to slow down. The only thing you could hear was your heart racing.
He squinted his eyes, as if irritated, leaving you confused. You raised an eyebrow and turned back to your friends. After a few minutes, you felt someone tap your shoulder.
You turned around and saw the person you really wanted to avoid.
“Y/n, can we talk?” Charles said, sounding irritated. You were confused and choked on your own saliva. Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the interruption. Lando looked at you, puzzled, then looked at Max.
“Now?” You asked, suspicious.
“Now,” Charles said firmly, and you nodded, with no real option.
You said goodbye to the others and followed him to a more secluded spot. Charles took a deep breath, as if trying to find the right words, but in the end, he just blurted out:
“What were you doing with them?” He said bluntly, and you blinked, surprised. You opened your mouth and closed it, not knowing what to say.
“Excuse me?” You responded, still in shock.
“What were you doing with them? Max and Lando,” Charles repeated, moving a little closer to make sure he heard you right. You laughed in disbelief.
“Talking? Laughing? Ever heard of that?” You said, obviously crossing your arms.
He didn’t laugh. He remained serious.
“With Max? With Lando?” He asked again, and you tilted your head, still a little lost in all of this.
“Yes. What’s the problem?” You said innocently, and Charles thought it was cute, but then remembered why he was there.
Charles ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.
“The problem is that…” He stopped in the middle of the sentence, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, now with a determined glint.
“Forget it.” The driver in front of you took a step forward. Now, you were so close that you could smell him, a mix of fuel and expensive cologne. Charles turned around to leave, but you grabbed his wrist, freezing him in place.
“What’s wrong, Charles?” You whispered, your voice softer than you intended.
He hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment.
“I don’t like seeing you with them, I don’t know.” Charles shrugged. Your heart raced.
And for the first time, you saw in his eyes what you had only suspected before.
And you stood there for a while, just looking at each other. You sighed, half enjoying the confession, but it made you even more lost.
Then, without warning, Charles stepped closer, and again, you smelled him. You were only a few centimeters apart.
“C-Charles?” You called him.
“What is this?” You asked, but completely lost in the proximity.
He didn’t answer. He just took a step forward, closing the distance between you. His hand found your face, hesitant at first, but firm enough for you to feel the warmth against your skin.
And then, without waiting any longer, Charles kissed you.
It wasn’t a rushed or uncertain kiss. It was something intense, charged with everything that had been hanging in the air for so long—unspoken teasing, glances that lasted a little too long, words never said but always felt.
You kissed him back without thinking. One of your hands grabbed his shirt, as if you needed something to hold on to. The other found his neck, feeling how he leaned in even more toward you.
The world around you disappeared.
It was just him. Just the two of you.
And when you finally pulled away, your faces still close, your breaths mixing, Charles smiled. That crooked, teasing smile, but now it was different—there was something more there now.
“Now tell me… are you still going to pretend this means nothing?”
You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you didn’t look away. With a small smile, he gently ran his thumb across your cheek before adding, almost like a whisper:
“Because I can’t, I can’t pretend and deny what I feel for you, Y/n.”
The tension between you two had only grown since that conversation, that kiss. You couldn’t deny your mood had undoubtedly improved.
Now, minutes before the race start, you were on the grid, mentally reviewing the strategy, trying to concentrate. But your mind kept drifting back to Charles.
Then, he appeared. The red suit, the determined eyes, but at the same time… different.
He approached without hesitation.
“Good luck, Y/n,” you loved the way he said your name.
You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Do I need it?” You asked, laughing, and Charles smiled.
“No. But I needed an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” You asked innocently again, and Charles smiled.
And then, again, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth.
Not a full kiss. Just a touch, a test.
But it was enough to take your breath away.
Before you could react, he was already pulling away, putting on his helmet, and heading to his car. He turned to you and winked.
Lando, who had seen everything, whistled. You looked at him, lost, your face turning as red as a tomato.
“That was interesting,” he said, crossing his arms. You hit his arm.
Lando laughed and raised an eyebrow. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what, Norris?” You said impatiently.
“That you two are… like this,” he pointed to you and then to Charles.
“Like this!” Lando said, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, Y/n, you used to hate each other, and now he comes and kisses you in front of everyone, not even embarrassed.”
You couldn’t respond, just shrugged.
Because, in that moment, one thing became absolutely clear.
This was no longer a game.
But this time, the only thing you wanted wasn’t to lift the trophy or spray champagne.
As soon as the ceremony ended, you felt a hand on your wrist. He pulled you into a corner, away from the cameras, the journalists, any distractions.
His eyes were shining, but it wasn’t just from the race.
“How many more times are we going to pretend this isn’t happening?” Your chest tightened because you knew exactly what he meant.
You exhaled, a small smile forming on your lips.
“I think it’s already enough, right? You kissed me in front of everyone, I don’t think we need to pretend anymore.” You said, smiling like a happy little girl.
His smile grew, full of something new—certainty.
“Good.” And this time, when he leaned in, there were no doubts, hesitations, or teasing.
This time, it was real. And you knew there was no turning back, so you continued.
Charles pulled back and kissed your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with love.
“I want to hear that from you.” Charles said, holding your hand.
“Hear what?” You said, pretending not to understand, and Charles groaned, throwing his head back.
“If we’re going to be like this, I’ll say it first. Before anything, I want to apologize for being such a jerk. I thought pretending to hate you was easier than telling you how much I like you.” Charles sighed, and you felt like you were floating. Your heart leaped with joy, and the only thing you could do was hug him, so you did.
“It’s okay, Charles. This can stay in the past.” You said, still hugging him. Charles let go of you and held your waist firmly. You wrapped your arms around his neck.
“And besides, I think I like you a little too.”
“A little?” He complained, pretending to be offended.
“Yes, just a little.” You said, showing with your fingers how small the amount was. Charles laughed and gave you a quick kiss.
“You’re going to be my downfall, Y/n.” Charles said, and you kissed him.
