Summary: She is young & beautiful and rumor has it she is seeing a much older man.
Pairing: reader x Toto Wolff
Type: Insta Au
Warnings: age gap (that’s it)
Liked by CarmenMundt, YourBestfriend & others
YourUsername lately🎀
Comments
Yourbestfriend 🫶🫶
CarmenMundt lovely time with you ✨
YourUsername like always! ❤️
User that first picture 😍😍
User love the aesthetic
User workout routine for that back!
YourUsername 🫡🫡
°°°
Liked by GeorgeRussell, CarmenMundt, LilyMhe & others
YourUsername when in Monaco 📍🫶
Comments
Yourbestfriend you’re in Monaco because of love doofus lmaoo
YourUsername you’re dumb
YourUsername shut up 🙄
AlexandraLeclerc 🤣🤣
CarmenMundt dead 💀💀
User wait why are all these wags here 🫨
User literally in every post there’s a new one
User if only yall knew
User know what??
User too many rumors lately
User she’s been spotted in an area exclusively for f1 drivers
User Y/N with a driver??
User beautiful!
°°°
Liked by CarmenMundt, LilyMhe, CharlesLeclerc & Others
YourUsername night out with the ladies 🥂
Comments
CarmenMundt the most fun night with you ladies 🩷
LilyMhe I’m still hungover
AlexandraLeclerc same ^^
CharlesLeclerc I can confirm she is hungover (moody)
AlexandraLeclerc 😬
YourUsername 😹😹
Lily I see you sneaking in that last picture 🤭
YourUsername 🤫
User ok but seriously where did all these f1 ladies come from??
User I’m curious too
User rumors are swirling around Monaco that she’s dating someone in the f1 world
User and it’s not a driver
User what?
°°°
Liked by GeorgeRussell, RebeccaDonaldson & others
YourUsername can you blame me?
Comments
AlexandraLeclerc ♥️♥️♥️
Yourbestfriend I could never blame you 🤭
RebeccaDonaldson that first picture 🤭😍
YourUsername credits to you of course 🥰
LilyMhe lovely ✨
YourUsername like you 🩷
User living your best life!!
User because of some rich man
User so what??
User if only yall knew who the rich man is
User who is it??
User the suspense is killing me 😭
User sis got herself a rich man from Monaco 😋😋
User all these f1 wags AND drivers too?? What’s happening
User 👀👀
User Alexa play money money money by ABBA
User 💸💸💸💸💸
User 💰
User that last picture sis
°°°
Liked by GeorgeRussell, CharlesLeclerc, CarmenMundt & Others
YourUsername And this chapter I call: happiness💕
comments
CarmenMundt love you guys 🫶🫶🫶
Alexandraleclerc happy for you🤍
LilyMhe ❤️❤️
Yourbestfriend and this chapter I call: I miss my best friend (but happy for you)
User i miss you! Ily 🥺♥️
User wealthy man vibes
User I mean he is from Monaco what do you expect?
User wouldn’t expect any less for our diva🤩
User ok diva it’s time for a face reveal
User please!!
User what she said ^^
User can we talk about that giant bouquet of roses??
User seriously 😩
User and I can’t even get a petal 😕
User I can’t even get a freaking seed to grow a rose
User 😂
°°°
Liked by 25k people
F1News Toto Wolff sighted with mystery woman. The two were walking out of a quaint dinner and just when they thought no one was looking—they kissed each other like teenagers on a first date. Per sources, Toto is said to be completely taken by the young woman. He is adamant about having her permanently move to Monaco. He is constantly flying to see her or flying her out to be with him. Details on her identity are still being investigated. Stay tuned.
Comments
User investigated?? That’s literally @YourUsername
User she’s been posting Toto all along??
User Toto IS the rich Monaco man!
User ***rich Austrian man who lives in Monaco
User ok specific
User it’s hilarious Toto who is over 50 has been soft launched in a relationship💀💀💀
User omfg 🤣🤣
User and the man doesn’t even have Instagram lol
User the fact that fans found out who it was first lol
User I mean she is so much younger than him??
User does it matter?
User he’s principal of an F1 team, handsome, a billionaire and has a young hot girlfriend? man is living life
User i don’t know who to be more jealous of
User all I can think of is that meme: sis is getting that d every night 💀😭😭😭
User can you blame her? 😋
User absolutely not lol I’d do the same 😩🫣
User is it really YourUsername??
User it’s the face card
User seriously face card too lethal not to recognize it
User get it Toto!!
User that man is eating her alive
User and this is in public? Can you imagine in private?
User a man who yearns 😋
°°°
Liked by 36k people
F1News Toto Wolff and his new partner, who has been identified as Y/N, have taken over Monaco and packed on the PDA pretty heavy. The couple have been seen multiple times holding hands, kissing in elevators (did they know it was a glass elevator?) The team principal is more in love than ever, a close source reports.
Comments
User that man is on his knees for this girl
User seriously
User literally too though
User another fallen soldier to a baddie
User even billionaires aren’t exempt from baddies
User new favorite wag
User Imagine all the paddock outfits??
User I can’t wait!!😭
User sis is gonna be in the Mercedes garage ahhhh
User am I the only one who sees this as inappropriate? Hes literally 54. She’s half his age 😶
User she’s a literal adult
User it’s just you honey
User go touch grass
User get some sun
User it’s two consenting adults 🙄
User so all the rumors were true
User Mrs. Wolff
User Let’s speak it into existence 🧘♀️
User you know that man is down bad when you got him kissing you in every corner of every place
User did yall see the videos??
User he pulls her in any chance he gets
User omg yessss! The ones on the yacht 🫢
User he literally carried her inside after being outside for only a few minutes lmao
User he is down BAD
User I love this for her
°°°
Liked by Mercedesamgf1, GeorgeRussell, TotoWolff & others
YourUsername 🫣♥️
Tagged: TotoWolff
Comments
TotoWolff first
TotoWolff ♥️
YourUsername 🥰♥️♥️♥️♥️
Yourbestfriend second 🙄
YourUsername and it begins lmao
GeorgeRussell finally! ❤️
CarmenMundt that’s what I said 🤭 my paddock sister
TotoWolff .
GeorgeRussell ??
YourUsername he commented that on accident :0
CarmenMundt 💀
AlexandraLeclerc see you in the paddock 🥰
YourUsername yes🫶
TotoWolff wuwiwjw
CharlesLeclerc 🤔
YourUsername omg he wants to delete the app now
Mercededamgf1 social media is not his forte, sorry
GeorgeRussell oh we know admin
KimiAntonelli I will teach you, Toto!!
Mercedesamgf1 social media classes are in session,Mr.Wolff!
YourUsername he said he will attend
RebeccaDonaldson I couldn’t contain this secret anymore 🤭🥰
YourUsername I know lol you were struggling
CarlosSainz she was losing hair over this 💀
RebeccaDonaldson of happiness tho lol
User the fact that he made an insta just for her 💀🤣
User omfg I just noticed his account was laterally crated like hour ago 💀💀💀
User *literally
User lol not the grammar police
User that’s what happens when you date someone half your age
User he already has 30k followers wtf
User man is not even gonna see that, he’s gonna delete the app 😹
User and she’s the only one he follows 🥺💘
————————
Oh my goodness I hadn’t made one of these in a while. Forgot how fun they are ♥️♥️
most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI
pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments
oneshots
Ocean Eyes by @charles-leclerizz
Charles x fem!reader (wc - 3.8k)
friends to lovers?
- fluff, crack, smut
You are Ferrari team principals grand-daughter and over this time, you've become close with the teams golden boy, Charles Leclerc. If your grand-father could replace you with anyone, it would probably be this guy. So, how mad do you think he would be if you, fucked him?
Dognapped by @pucksandpower
Charles x fem!reader (wc - 4.7k)
meetcute, strangers to something?
- fluff
what happens when you combine two identical dachshunds, one dog park mix-up, and a very famous racing driver? Your meet-cute becomes a dognapping crisis
a lifetime of summers by @leclerc-hs
Charles x fem!reader (wc - 8k)
friends to lovers, !cheating!
- fluff, angst, smut
every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history.
bad idea! by @alexslvrs
Charles x reader (wc - 14.8k)
!cheating!
- angst, fluff, smut
Finding out your boyfriend´s cheating in a world where leaving him would mean a scandal, you find a different way to get back at him involving the one person that would bother him the most. His childhood rival.
skip.reverse.draw by @leclerc-hs
Charles x reader (wc - 7.9k)
brother´s best friend!Charles
- fluff, angst, smut
your older brother's best friend is definitely off-limits OR you and charles find yourselves orbiting around each other regardless of a five year age-gap
series
unmuted desire by @leclerc-hs
Charles x reader (wc - 6.6k + 10.2k)
engineer/camgirl!reader
- fluff, angst, smut
charles’ race engineer has a secret OR you’re a cam girl and charles happens to stumble across your page.
part 1, part 2
what we never outgrew by @ccupcakqs
Charles x fem!reader
childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers?
- angst, hurt/comfort, fluff
you were charles’s favorite memory and his hardest loss. childhood gave you something rare, but time and silence pulled you apart. years later, when you find your way back, everything has changed, except the way he still looks at you like he remembers it all.
This is a rec list for one of my favorite tropes, the magical pussy. Since the lines between woke up with a pussy and turned into a girl are blurred, this contains both and I didn't try to categorize. All of these fics are incredibly hot and amazing and you should check them out immediately so I didn't repeat myself saying that over and over again and just wrote a little summary for each one. But they are. And you should. This isn't an exhaustive list, I know there are lots of great magical pussy fics I've forgotten or never knew about. If you have a favorite that's not on this list, please tell me about it!!!!
So here are 24 wonderful fics for 14 different pairings:
★ singapore heat by @nicbutnasty Lando/Oscar, 3.2k
Oscar wakes up with a pussy. He needs to get fucked, sex-pollen style.
★ those magic changes by @peachbel1ini, Lando/Oscar, 7.8k
Oscar has been wondering for a long time if he'd really turn into a girl after his first podium. Then it actually happens.
☆ be as you've always been by @gremlinlando, Lando/Oscar, 3.4k
Trans omega Lando gets a pussy after winning the WDC. He really wants to keep it. So it can't get fucked.
☆ quickswap by @antidecent, Lando/Oscar, 12.3k
Lando wakes up with a pussy. Turns out it's Oscar's.
✮ fall right in by @likepilotlights, Lando/Oscar, 7.3k
Both Lando and Oscar turn into a girl at the same time. They decide to get each other off. Feelings get in the way.
✦ consolation prize by @glasscushion, Lando/MaxV, 2.1k
Max gets a pussy after Jeddah '25. Lando gets to fuck it as his consolation prize. Max tells him how.
✧ Sugar High by @disarmd, Lando/MaxV, 3k
Lando wakes up with a pussy. Max eats him out on a plane.
❀ Kink promt fill by @passengerprincipessa, Lando/Daniel
Lando gets a pussy. He asks Daniel to fuck his ass.
❀ come make my day by @elementalmoments, Lando/Daniel, 4.3k
Early '22 Lando wakes up as girl. Daniel agrees to help him out.
♡ tumblr fic by @fast-burn, Lando/MaxF
Max accidentally gets Lando's WDC pussy. Lando feels entitled to it.
♡ capsize in your thighs by @wedriftlikelonelyplanets, Lando/MaxF, 7.4k
Lando wakes up with a pussy. He has some very complicated feelings about it. Max helps him trough it.
༶ saving it for you by @cosmicscuderia, Lando/MaxF, Lando/Martin Garrix, Lando/Keegan Palmer, 1.7k
Lando gets his WDC pussy. He saves it for his friends.
❖ tumblr fic by @vroombeams, Lando/everyone
Lando wakes up with the Pussy. Everybody gets a turn.
△ make a bitch go on and on by @liesmyth, Charles/Lando/Carlos, 8.5k
Charles and Lando both get pussies after they crash into each other. They each turn to Carlos for help.
✾ indentation in the shape of you by @baking-soda, Charles/Pierre, 12k
Charles turns into a girl. He calls Pierre in a panic.
✺ Everybody Wants to Love You by @passengerprincipessa, Charles/Oscar, 9k
Charles gets a pussy. He can't make it come. Oscar comes to the rescue.
✢ time is strangely calm now by @mahkwibbah, Oscar/Mark, 3.7k
Oscar wakes up with a pussy after he loses the WDC. Lando is probably expecting him but Oscar goes to Mark instead.
⬤ tumblr fic by @onadarklingplain, George/Lando
George gets a pussy because he's the favourite. He asks Lando to help him instead of Alex.
☾ unsafe release by @latecomersprivilege, Alex/George, 1k
George gets a pussy. Alex is supposed to just fuck him very quickly so he can go back to racing.
☾ hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused by @janinaduszejko, Alex/George, 6.7k
George turns into a girl. He and Alex have some very fraught sex about it.
☽ unquenchable by touch by @onadarklingplain, Alex/George, 3k
Alex gets a pussy. George has been studying and knows just how to get it off.
⚀ tumblr fic by @powerful-owl, Max/Daniel, 2k
Daniel gets a pussy. He's really weird about it but then he manages to have some insane sex with Max after all.
⚁ rubbed raw and throbbing in the light by @bighoneyenergy, Max/Daniel, 29k
Max and Daniel kiss which absolutely can't go on because they're both guys. The next morning, Max wakes up as a girl.
⸙ stayed behind and you were tender by des_iderate, Seb/Mick, 4k
Mick wakes up as a girl. Seb really wasn't going to sleep with him anymore.
[Lastly, I think telling people to comment is so annoying, not commenting is fine, but if you've ever been on the fence about it this advice on leaving comments by @phneltwrites is the best I've seen and it's been helping me so much]
Summary: Y/N was supposed to complete the mission and move on, but, of course, nothing in life is ever that simple—especially when a certain Monegasque Ferrari driver gets involved.
Warning(s): Mild Language, just an assassin doing assassin things—like murder and assassination, but it's lowkey murder, liberties taken with race weekend of monza, cobra snake, Charles being nosey and almost gets his nose bitten off, lol, comedy, fluffy, long story, and in three parts. Long story meaning—hella long.
Part 1 < | > Part 2 < | > Part 3
"They say I did something bad, then why's it feel so good?"
Y/N could feel the weight of the night in the air as she walked toward the mansion.
Her every step calculated, her mind running over the mission details as the heels of her shoes clicked softly against the marble floor.
The lights of the ballroom flickered just beyond the door, the hum of laughter and clinking glasses filtering through the air. She was almost there.
Her handler, Kiwi, was already speaking in her ear. Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.
Kiwi was always the voice of reason, even if that voice was full of exasperation and sass.
“Alright, King, you’re almost in position. The perimeter’s secure. I've hacked the Cctv. No one should be getting in or out unless they have clearance, and we both know you have perfect clearance.” Kiwi’s voice was calm, almost too calm, like she was bored.
But Y/N knew better. Behind the monotone was always that edge of concern.
Kiwi liked control, and Y/N? Well, Y/N liked chaos.
“The target’s inside—Victor Hartwell. He’s the CEO of some tech company, whatever the hell they do. You’ll find him near the center of the room, surrounded by his entourage. Guy’s a sleaze. You’ll know him when you see him. He’s the one with the stupid red tie, the one who looks like he thinks he owns the whole world.”
Y/N was already scanning the crowd, her eyes moving over the sea of faces. It wasn’t hard to pick out the target. A man standing too tall in a crowd, his smug smile practically glowing through the smoke and mirrors of wealth and power.
There he was. Victor Hartwell.
Y/N’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile as she slipped through the guests, effortlessly blending in with the waitstaff.
“Yeah, I see him,” Y/N muttered, her voice low but sharp. “Nice red tie. Pretty sure he’s compensating for something. I’ll be done before you even have time to finish your drink, Kiwi.”
She adjusted the tray in her hand, moving past a group of people, but not without giving them a quick look—there was a pearl bracelet on one woman’s wrist that caught her eye, and a diamond necklace on another that gleamed just right.
She quickly pushed those thoughts away. She had a job to do.
“Focus, King,” Kiwi warned, but Y/N could hear the slight chuckle in her voice.
Kiwi might be a professional, but she’d never be able to resist Y/N’s particular brand of chaos. “The poison is already in the drink, right?”
Y/N had already slipped the fast-acting poison into Hartwell’s glass of champagne. A few quick drops and the job was done. Hartwell wouldn’t know what hit him.
The poison was fast, nearly undetectable, and it’d make sure his heart would stop within the next minute.
Easy.
“Done,” Y/N replied, her voice calm. “In and out. Just like that. All while you’re sitting somewhere, probably eating fucking nachos”
Y/N, of course, knew that Kiwi was just as serious about the mission as she was. But deep down, it was a compliment to her own skills, the way she made Kiwi’s job easier. Kiwi would never admit it, though. She’d insist that only she could handle Y/N’s particular brand of flair.
You kill one mad scientist and suddenly you're overdramatic
Kiwi groaned on the other end. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get cocky. Just make sure you don’t—” She stopped, and Y/N could hear the sharp inhale. “Wait. What’s that in your pocket?"
Y/N glanced down at her coat, then around at the room, clocking the camera that was following her, knowing it was her handler watching, she couldn’t help but smirk.
Her hand slipped into her pocket, feeling the smooth curve of the stolen pearl bracelet. She was already moving toward the exit, but there was no harm in taking a little prize along the way.
“Oh, nothing. Just a little something extra,” Y/N said casually, slipping the bracelet further into her pocket.
She moved through the crowd, her heart beating a little faster now. There was something about this game—about the rush—that always kept her on edge.
“I swear to God, King,” Kiwi muttered. “You can’t just do the mission. You always have to do something else. God forbid you keep your hands to yourself for two seconds.”
Y/N chuckled, her eyes on Hartwell again, watching as he took his first sip of the poisoned drink.
She didn’t need to look long—his face was already starting to pale, the first signs of the poison taking effect. He was already halfway to his collapse, and no one was going to know what happened until it was far too late.
“Listen,” Y/N said, her voice light, almost teasing. “You didn’t complain when I got you that $300K watch, did you? You love the gifts, Kiwi. Don’t act like you don't.”
Kiwi’s voice was sharp and incredulous. “I knew it. I knew you’d stolen that goddamn thing. I knew it wasn’t just a ‘gift.’ You have terrible taste in watches, King.”
Y/N snorted, weaving her way out of the ballroom. She could hear the faint sounds of Hartwell stumbling behind her.
She didn’t need to look back. She knew what was happening—he was on his way out, and that was all that mattered.
“Hey!” Y/N protested, offended. “I’ve got excellent taste in watches. It’s not my fault you’re too busy to notice the good stuff when it’s right in front of you.”
“Oh, please, spare me. The only reason you know what’s ‘good’ is because you’ve been stealing for years, assassin with a sidejob of a pick-pocket” Kiwi quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Y/N grinned. “Well, you’re welcome. You got a pretty damn nice watch out of it, didn’t you?”
Kiwi didn’t answer right away, and Y/N could picture her rolling her eyes back at base, no doubt staring at the camera feed of the ballroom, watching her every move. “I swear, King, you’re impossible. At least you’re good at what you do. Just don’t get caught. And don’t steal any more shit.”
Y/N pushed through the side door of the mansion, stepping out into the cool night air, the sounds of the party still distant behind her. She let out a slow breath.
Mission complete. And no one was any wiser.
She slid her hand into her pocket once more, feeling the smooth edges of the bracelet she’d swiped earlier.
She wasn’t even sure why she took it, but the temptation was too strong. And besides, it wasn’t like Kiwi was going to yell at her forever.
“I’m not that bad, Kiwi,” Y/N teased, grinning to herself as she ducked into the shadows.
“I hate you, King,” Kiwi said flatly. “But alright, don’t get too comfortable. There’s always someone new who needs a little ‘talking to. Or an appointment with the 'big dog’"
Y/N’s lips curled into a grin. “You’re the only one who'd call god, the 'big dog', Kiwi. I swear. Always a new mission with you, isn't it, always a new target. Maybe you need to take a break... let me get you something shiny next time, yeah?”
Kiwi’s voice was flat. “I swear, one of these days you’re going to get me to actually punch you.”
Y/N laughed, feeling the rush of adrenaline slowly starting to fade.
The job was done. The target was gone. Kiwi was right—it had been easy. And the stolen jewels were just a pretty bonus.
“You’re welcome,” Y/N said with a grin. “Talk to you tomorrow, Kiwi.”
With that, she signed off, her comms going silent. The night was still young, and she had more work to do.
____________________________
Y/N’s boots made no sound as she ascended the staircase, her mind effortlessly juggling a dozen different thoughts. The grocery list was at the top of the pile: eggs, flour, dead mice, vegetables, coffee, and a few more essentials.
Maybe I should get a dead deer? It's been long since a good treat.
A soft hum played in the back of her head, an almost subconscious tune she couldn’t quite place. It danced around the edges of her focus, soothing in its simplicity.
Her steps were slow, measured, the rhythm of her movement unhurried despite the urgency of the tasks ahead.
The second floor corridor stretched before her, a quiet emptiness save for the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. Her mind was still calculating, balancing her to-do list, when she reached her door, key already in her hand.
Her gaze flickered toward the handle.
It was turned.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her body went still.
A chill ran down her spine as a quiet sense of dread settled into her chest.
The door, slightly ajar, beckoned her like an unspoken threat. She felt the tension coil inside her, reflexes primed for action. The grocery list and the jeweller faded into the background, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of reality.
Instantly, her fingers brushed against the cold steel of the knife hidden inside her jeans, the familiar weight of the blade comforting her.
She moved with practiced grace, her muscles taut, mind completely in the moment. Every sense heightened, every movement calculated.
Step by slow step, she advanced into the apartment, each footfall silent on the wooden floor.
The air felt thick, heavy, charged with the kind of tension that only a predator could feel before striking. Her eyes darted, scanning the space with military precision, noting every detail—the soft gleam of the lamp on her side table, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the bathroom.
Nothing was out of place. But something was wrong.
The hairs on her neck stood up.
She barely had time to register the sound behind her before the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against her back.
Her body tensed instantly, but she didn’t move. The man’s breath was hot and shallow, his voice a low growl, “Move, and I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”
Her hand tightened around the hilt of her knife, but she stayed still. It was too late to fight, and she knew it.
This wasn’t some rookie; this was a pro, someone who knew how to subdue quickly and efficiently. He had her pinned—she couldn’t use the element of surprise, couldn’t rely on a quick strike.
So she did what she did best: she waited.
The silence dragged on for a moment longer, the tension so thick it almost had weight.
Then, with a mocking laugh, the man shoved her forward, slamming her into the edge of the nearby table. The knife in her hand slipped free of her grip and clattered to the floor.
“Not so confident now, are we?” The man chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with condescension. “The great King, is actually a fucking useless woman. You know, I thought since you’re such an amazing killer, you’d be better at choosing a place to stay. Better at defending yourself. Clearly, women are weak.”
His laugh echoed through the room, and for a moment, Y/N’s mind spun with the irony of it all. This man had absolutely no idea who he was dealing with.
"Do you know why the fuck I’m here?" he growled, stepping closer.
Y/n arched a brow, eyes flicking down to the gun like it was nothing more than an inconvenience. "Well, considering you’re holding a gun to my gut, I’m guessing this isn’t a friendly visit."
His sneer widened. "You killed my fucking brother."
She blinked, unimpressed. "Gonna need more than that."
"Daniel, you bitch! Daniel Cortez!"
A beat of silence. Then—
"Oh. That dumbass."
The man’s smirk grew, confidence swelling in his chest. He thought that meant she was afraid.
King just exhaled, glancing at the ceiling. "Jesus. You’re really about to get yourself killed over that idiot?"
She leaned back casually against the table, her posture relaxed, as if the man’s presence didn’t affect her at all.
His smirk faltered for a moment, confused by her sudden nonchalance, but then he caught sight of her smile.
The kind of smile that had earned her the nickname ‘King.’ It was the smile of someone who knew exactly what was coming next.
“Since you thought King was some useless man,” Y/N’s voice was smooth, almost lazy as she spoke, “let me tell you my full name.”
She pointed to herself, the movement slow, deliberate. Her voice calm.
“King.”
Then, she pointed behind him, a smooth motion that made his confusion deepen.
“Cobra.”
The man turned—too late.
Before he could even react, the sound of something swift and deadly filled the air.
A loud, hissing strike.
A blur of scales and speed, and the man’s body jerked back, his scream ripping through the air. His hand shot down, swiping in a panic, but it was no use. The cobra was faster.
The snake latched onto him with terrifying precision, its fangs sinking deep into his skin, injecting venom so potent it was like fire running through his veins. His scream turned into a choking gasp as the poison hit his bloodstream, his body seizing in agony.
Y/N’s smirk didn’t falter as she watched him struggle. The snake, her snake, slithered up to his chest, wrapping around him with the kind of fluid grace that could only come from a predator at the peak of its strength.
The man writhed beneath it, his eyes wide with horror as he felt the cold, relentless coils tightening around him, every movement just another reminder of his impending end.
Y/N stood, unmoving, her hands resting casually at her sides.
She watched him for a moment longer, savoring the sight of his panic as he fought against the inevitable.
It was always fascinating, watching people realize too late that they had made a fatal mistake.
She knelt beside him, her movements slow and deliberate, never rushing, always in control.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his body jerking as he fought against the cobra’s constriction. He looked up at her, eyes wide with terror, his mouth opening as if to beg for mercy.
Y/N tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she leaned in closer.
“How’d you like my baby?” she purred, her voice smooth and mocking. “Saved her myself, raised her from birth, too. She’s mine.” She let the words sink in, watching his eyes widen even more in disbelief. “And anyone who tries to harm me—well, you know what happens.”
He struggled, trying to find words, his voice barely a whisper as he gasped for air. “You’ll never tame that snake. No man can.”
Y/N’s smile widened, a dark glint in her eyes as her hand slowly, deliberately, reached for the knife still resting on the floor.
She gripped the handle, lifting it with a fluid motion as she moved back into position beside him. The snake had done its job, but now it was her turn to finish the job.
“No,” she said, her voice soft, almost too calm. “Good for me, then. I am no man.”
The knife glinted in the dim light as it cut through the air, its blade meeting his forehead with a sharp, final precision.
His body went limp, the last breath rattling from his lungs as he succumbed to the venom, to the blade, to the quiet finality of death.
Y/N stood, brushing the hair from her face with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. The snake unwound itself from the man’s body, its mission complete, and slithered back to her, coiling around her arm like a familiar, trusted companion.
"Good job, Bella"
She didn’t even look at the body on the floor. There was no need.
After all, the man had made the most fatal mistake—underestimating her.
____________________________
The roar of the engines vibrated through the Ferrari garage, a deep, primal sound that made the walls hum. The scent of burnt rubber, gasoline, and something vaguely metallic filled the air, clinging to the red uniforms of the mechanics moving in and out of the pit lane.
Y/N moved through the chaos seamlessly, a disposable figure in a sea of red. She carried a tray of coffee orders, a neutral expression set on her face, the perfect blend of present but unremarkable.
The Ferrari crew barely acknowledged her, too busy poring over data screens or making final adjustments to the car before their drivers took it out for the first session.
An intern. That’s what she was here. Just another nameless cog in the well-oiled machine that was Ferrari’s race weekend operation.
It was the perfect disguise. No one paid attention to interns.
She recited her cover story in her head as she handed a cappuccino to an engineer barking out tire strategies to someone over the radio. Vivienne Giovanni, fresh-faced motorsport management student, landed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to intern with Ferrari for the Monza Grand Prix. Background in data analytics, eager to learn, grateful for the opportunity. All of it was fabricated, of course. Her real name had been scrubbed from every database that mattered.
Her target, Anton Volkov, was a high-ranking FIA official. By day, he dictated rules and regulations, a bureaucrat with power over the very sport these people lived and breathed. By night, he was something far worse—a key player in the black-market trade of stolen car technology and illegal weapons.
The kind of man who could make millions selling secret blueprints to the highest bidder, no matter the consequences.
He was here this weekend, doing his usual rounds, acting as though he weren’t responsible for trafficking stolen data and guns that could get people killed.
Y/N’s job was simple. Infiltrate. Gather intel. Wait for the right moment. Execute.
She turned a corner, stepping lightly past a group of engineers, her head down just enough to avoid drawing attention but not so much that it looked unnatural.
She had spent years perfecting this balance—appearing so unimportant that people forgot she existed even as she stood right in front of them.
The espresso machine whirred as she filled another cup, her hands moving on autopilot.
It wasn’t hard to get the job at Ferrari.
She’d crafted an unimpressive but plausible résumé, slipped it into the right hands, and a few nudges in the background by Kiwi made sure she was accepted. Nothing too obvious. Just another eager intern with an affinity for numbers.
A voice crackled over the team’s radios, something about tire degradation and brake balance.Someone swore as they adjusted a data screen.
Y/N carefully placed a small stack of documents onto a desk beside one of the lead strategists. They weren’t important, but interns were expected to do menial tasks, and she wasn’t about to raise suspicion by being idle.
Anton Volkov was expected to pass through the paddock in the next hour.
He would be making his rounds, checking compliance regulations, shaking hands, making himself look important. It was almost laughable. The FIA saw him as an enforcer of rules, but in reality, he was the one breaking them at the highest level.
Y/N knew how these types of men worked. Power wasn’t enough for them. They wanted control. They wanted to play god in whatever arena they found themselves in.
She picked up another tray of coffee and moved through the garage again, her ears picking up bits and pieces of conversation around her.
Charles was struggling with understeer. Lewis had mentioned something about track temperatures affecting grip levels. The mechanics were already preparing for the next round of pit stop practice.
She let the details fade into the background. Her focus was elsewhere.
Blend in. Observe. Wait.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Not her real one—the cheap, disposable burner she was using for this mission. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A single message from Kiwi.
T-minus one hour. He’s on schedule. No changes.
She exhaled slowly, tucking the phone back into her pocket. No changes meant everything was going according to plan. No surprises. That was good.
She grabbed a cloth and pretended to wipe down a counter as she subtly checked her reflection in the polished metal surface. Nothing out of place.
Her uniform was neat, her hair was secured in a way that wouldn’t stand out. She looked exactly like what they expected her to be—just another girl trying to get a foot in the door of the motorsport world.
A junior engineer called out for another coffee, and she moved quickly, handing it off with a polite nod.
Just another intern.
______________________________
He’s sure that she’s not just another intern.
Charles first noticed her when he walked into the Ferrari garage that morning, the familiar red-and-black blur of his team moving around him with a practiced efficiency that should’ve made everything blend together. But she stood out.
Not because of anything obvious—there was nothing particularly striking about her at first glance. She wore the same uniform as the other interns, moved with the same quick but careful steps, kept her head down when necessary.
And yet, something about her felt off.
He had seen her before.
Charles was sure of it.
Her face—it was something he had found himself staring at before, though he couldn’t place where. A strange sense of déjà vu curled in his mind, gnawing at him as he watched her move through the garage, taking coffee orders, jotting down notes, exchanging quiet words with the other interns.
It was normal. Completely normal.
And yet, Charles felt like he was looking at a puzzle with one piece out of place.
“Charles.” His race engineer’s voice crackled through the garage noise, pulling him back. “We need to go over tire warm-up procedures again. The track’s colder than expected.”
He nodded, forcing himself to refocus. Later. Think about it later.
The Monza paddock was a relentless beast. It always had been. Pressure coiled thick in the air, threading itself through every mechanic, every strategist, every driver.
Charles could feel it wrapping around his ribs, pressing against his lungs as he glanced at the live telemetry data on the screen in front of him. The times weren’t bad, but they weren’t great either.
The Ferrari was holding steady, but in Monza, steady wasn’t enough.
He leaned over the monitor, listening to his engineer as they discussed the run plan for the session. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her again.
She was standing near the back of the garage now, arms crossed, nodding along as one of the engineers explained something. But it wasn’t just that she was listening. She was watching.
She scanned the room the way drivers scanned the track before a race, like she was looking for the gaps, assessing threats.
His grip tightened on the edge of the table.
Most interns were nervous, wide-eyed, eager to learn. She was composed. Her posture was loose but deliberate, like she was always prepared for something. It wasn’t a stretch to say she carried herself more like an athlete than an intern.
Then there was the way she patted her stomach. A light touch, barely noticeable, but he caught it. It was quick, habitual.
A nervous tick? No, it didn’t seem like that. Was she checking something? Pregnant? No—she didn’t look pregnant, and even if she was, a motorsport garage was hardly a safe place for her to be inhaling all these fumes.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. What are you doing, Charles? You’re in FP1, focus.
Lewis was already out on track, running his first stint, his voice crackling over the team radio as he relayed feedback. Charles was supposed to be getting into the right mindset, preparing to take his own car out soon, but now he was fixated on the stranger in his garage.
Why?
He turned his attention back to the screen, watching the delta times update. The Ferrari was quick on the straights, but the low-speed corners needed work. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, barely listening to his engineer as they discussed changes.
His gaze flickered back to her.
She was smiling at something another intern said. It wasn’t an overly expressive smile, just the polite, friendly kind people gave when making small talk. But there was something about it that struck him.
Maybe it was the way it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Who are you?
Charles wasn’t usually this intrigued by new faces in the garage. There were always interns coming and going, wide-eyed students hoping to get their foot in the door. But this one—this woman—was different. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he felt it in his gut.
“Charles, you’re up in five,” his engineer reminded him.
Right. Right.
He rolled his shoulders back, exhaling slowly as he pushed the thoughts aside. He needed to focus. He could deal with this later—figure out why his brain wouldn’t let go of the feeling that something about her didn’t add up.
For now, there was a session to run.
And a race to win.
___________________________
Charles had just finished his run for FP1, and the weight of the track was still fresh in his bones. Monza wasn’t just any race; it was one of the most crucial weekends of the season for Ferrari.
The pressure to perform in front of the home crowd hung heavy, and though he’d pushed for a solid lap, there was always the need for more. Always room for improvement.
The garage was buzzing with activity as the engineers analyzed the data, mechanics scurried to fix the cars, and the air seemed thick with the tension that came with a race weekend.
Charles, feeling the exhaustion creeping in, leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath as he pulled off his helmet.
The cool air felt good against his flushed skin. He’d been in the zone, but now, with the session over, he allowed himself a few minutes of respite.
And that’s when he saw her again.
She was at the coffee station, serving orders, moving gracefully through the garage with an ease that didn’t match the usual chaos of Monza.
He noticed how she stood a little taller than most, her back straight, never slouching. Her eyes scanned the room often, as if taking everything in, noting the comings and goings of everyone in the garage, the noises, the chatter.
He really shouldn’t be looking at her this much. It was odd. Maybe it was just his mind overthinking, the weight of the weekend starting to get to him.
But Charles couldn’t help it. There was something magnetic about her, something different.
She finally turned and walked towards him, her hand extending with a coffee cup. “For Charles Leclerc,” she said in a tone that was all business, but there was something in her eyes—something that made his heart race slightly faster than usual.
"Grazie," he said, though he barely registered the words. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noticing the calm way she held herself, the way she smiled easily, with no hint of awe or excitement.
There was nothing in her expression that said I’m talking to Charles Leclerc, Formula 1 driver.
She was treating him like a person. A regular person. Not a celebrity.
Charles frowned, a little confused by the way that made him feel. He was used to the attention, of course, but he realized he kind of liked this—this sense of normalcy.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he found himself staring a bit longer than he should.
He chuckled, almost awkwardly. “Uh, no, I think this will do.” He took a sip of the coffee, grimacing slightly.
God, I hate coffee
But he didn’t care. The bitter taste was worth it just to have an excuse to talk to her. There was something compelling about her, something... intriguing.
He took another glance at her, his eyes darting down to her wrist, where he spotted something—a glint of pearls. It wasn’t something you saw every day in the Ferrari garage, especially not on an intern.
His eyes widened slightly as he noticed the bracelet, a small but unmistakable luxury piece. It looked expensive.
She had to be well-connected, or had money of her own, though there was no way she could afford something like that with an intern’s paycheck. A thousand questions flashed through his mind in an instant. Why was she wearing it? And why hadn’t he noticed it before?
Before he could think too much about it, she was stepping back, her posture still immaculate, her face betraying nothing. “Glad I could help,” she said, her smile warm, but professional.
Charles couldn’t help but stare for a moment longer as she walked away, her every step confident and purposeful.
The engineers had already started to gather around him, their voices cutting through the haze in his mind. Charles tried to focus, tried to give them his attention, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her.
Why did she look so... unbothered?
Charles tried to push the thoughts from his mind. He was supposed to be focused. Monza was important. But he couldn’t stop the pull he felt whenever he saw her, the way his eyes kept wandering back to her, trying to catch her doing something, anything that would explain the quiet confidence she exuded.
As the morning stretched on and he moved to join the others for another round of debriefing, Charles found himself seeking her again.
As he approached, he saw her again, handing out cups and taking notes with a focused expression. There was something magnetic about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Without thinking, Charles stepped up to the counter where she was stationed.
"Another coffee, please?" he asked casually, his voice light but with an underlying hint of curiosity.
She glanced up, her expression unreadable for a moment before a smile tugged at her lips. "You back for more, Mr. Leclerc? I thought one coffee would be enough for a day."
Charles chuckled, leaning slightly against the counter. "Just Charles, please, and I think I might make an exception today," he looked at her name tag, "Vivienne." How odd, she does not look like a Vivienne.
Her eyes flickered over him, a sharp glance that he didn't miss. "Is that so...Charles?"
"Yeah," he said, leaning a little closer, his voice softening just enough to be more intimate. "Maybe I just needed an excuse to talk to you."
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "Flattery? That’s a little forward, even for you."
A grin spread across his face. "Is it working?"
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she just studied him for a moment, her gaze cool and unbothered, before giving a slight shrug. "I guess we’ll see."
Charles felt a spark of satisfaction at the lack of hesitation in her response.
Most people would have fumbled, tried to impress him. But she didn’t. And that made her even more interesting.
It was honestly a rare thing for him to find someone who didn’t seem affected by the usual fame and attention, and it was intriguing in ways he couldn’t ignore.
He glanced down at her wrist again. The pearl bracelet.
A sharp contrast to the simple outfit she wore, but it intrigued him. It didn’t fit with the rest of her persona. Most people would show off their wealth or status, but she kept it understated, almost as if she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
"Nice bracelet," he said, his voice more casual than he felt.
She looked down, following his gaze. "Oh, that?" She shrugged again, her tone still light, though there was a flicker of something guarded in her expression. "A gift. I don’t really think much of it."
Charles’ curiosity piqued further. She definitely wasn’t just an intern. There was more to her than that—more than the polished exterior she was letting on.
"Where are you from?" he asked, leaning in a little as if to get a better look at her. "You don’t seem like the typical intern."
She gave him a look, one that said she wasn’t about to let anything slip too easily. "I’m from here, actually," she said in Italian after a pause. "I’m just here to work. Not much more to it than that." Back to English.
That answer felt too rehearsed. He didn’t press, though. He had the feeling that pushing too hard would only make her more guarded. Instead, he focused on the present moment, the slight curve of her lips, the way her smile seemed effortless, genuine.
"You really don’t seem like an intern," he said softly, his eyes tracing her face. "You seem... different. More capable, maybe. Confident, even."
She met his gaze without flinching, her smile widening slightly. "Is that a compliment, Charles?"
"It’s an observation, bella" he said, leaning back, though the way he said it felt like a flirtation.
He couldn’t help it.
Something about her drew him in. He was used to being surrounded by people eager to impress him, but she wasn’t like that at all.
She shook her head smirking, at what, he didn't know but there was no real bite behind it. Was it something he said? "Well, I appreciate the observation," she said, clearly not going to let him off easy. "But really, I’m just here to do my job."
Charles found himself laughing, enjoying the back-and-forth, the way she wasn’t letting him get away with anything too easy. It was refreshing.
He reached for the coffee cup she handed him, his fingers brushing against hers, and he couldn’t help but notice the spark of something between them.
He didn’t let it linger, though. He took the coffee from her with a smile. "Thanks," he said, but instead of walking away immediately, he lingered, making his next move.
"Well, if you’re just here to work, that’s fair," he said, eyeing her with a playful glint. "But it seems to me like you might be a bit more interesting than just an intern."
She smiled, but her eyes held something more guarded now. "You’ll just have to stick around to find out then."
Charles chuckled softly, but before he could say anything more, the engineers were calling for him. He glanced at the coffee in his hand and sighed. "Guess I’ll have to find out another time. Ciao, Bella "
With that, he made his way toward the door, coffee in hand. He didn’t even hesitate before throwing it into the nearest plant pot, his actions too quick for anyone to question. Coffee will never be his thing.
But the conversation? That was definitely something he wanted more of.
____________________________
She watched him walk away, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the counter.
Y/n realised she has a problem, a problem named Charles Leclerc.
Something about him irritated her, in the way only a very perceptive man could.
It wasn’t just the flirting—she could handle that. It wasn’t even the charm, though she’d give him credit where it was due. No, what frustrated her was the way he’d read her, the way he’d taken in more than he should have.
He wasn’t supposed to be paying that much attention.
She had played the role well—cool, professional, unbothered—but his eyes had lingered in places that made her wary.
He'd spotted the bracelet, noticed her confidence, and worst of all, he’d clocked that she didn’t fit in.
That wasn’t good.
And now, as she stood at the coffee station, arms crossed, she watched him slip back into his element—his Ferrari cutting through the circuit, the red flashing against the Monza sun.
Focus.
She had done her recon for the day, had noted what she needed to, had blended in as she was supposed to. But for some damn reason, she couldn’t get her mind off him.
The way he moved in the car—precise, aggressive but controlled—was the same way he had approached their conversation.
He was testing her, prodding for weaknesses, searching for answers she wasn’t willing to give.
And he had enjoyed it.
The cool weight of her snake coiled around her waist kept her grounded, the familiar pressure beneath her shirt a quiet reminder of her control.
She ran a hand absentmindedly over her abdomen, feeling the slight shift as her companion adjusted. At least someone knew how to stay quiet.
She exhaled sharply and pressed two fingers to her earpiece. “Kiwi, you there?”
A beat of static, and then her comms crackled to life.
“You say that like I ever leave,” Kiwi’s voice came through, her usual dry humor intact. “What’s up? You sound moody.”
Y/N’s eyes stayed locked on Charles as he threw his Ferrari into a fast lap, smooth as ever through the Ascari chicane.
“I need some information on Leclerc.”
A pause. Then, “...Why?”
Y/N sighed. “General behavior, trustworthiness. Anything I should know?”
Kiwi hummed, and Y/N could hear the grin in her voice. “What, is he suspicious of you?”
“A little.”
“Oh, how the turns have tabled.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Kiwi.”
“Alright, alright,” Kiwi laughed. “Charles Leclerc—good guy, from what I’ve seen. You've had contact before this, a charity event recon mission, I think. Man's a straight shooter, kind of a golden retriever, but an incredibly stubborn one. Loyal to a fault. Probably trusts his team too much, but he’s got a strong gut instinct. He doesn’t like being lied to, though, and he will notice if something doesn’t add up.”
Y/N sighed through her nose. Of course he was sharp. She did remember him at the event, looking ridiculously put together and all smiley for the crowds cheering for him.
“Why the sudden curiosity?” Kiwi prodded.
Y/N’s fingers tapped against her thigh as she watched Charles take another fast corner, looking too comfortable for her liking. “He’s been a bit nosey.”
Another pause. Then Kiwi snorted. “So? Just play dumb, flirt with him.”
“I am,” Y/N muttered. “But I don’t like people getting too close. He's getting close”
She could practically hear Kiwi rolling her eyes. “You flirted with him already, didn't you?”
“He flirted first,” Y/N corrected.
Kiwi laughed. “Yeah, and you let him. You were purring weren't you?”
Y/N scoffed. “That’s disgusting. I do not purr.”
“Sure, you don’t,” Kiwi teased. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you might have just made yourself more interesting to him. He loves a challenge.”
"Fuck my life, that's my type"
Kiwi cackled. “You like him.”
Y/N scowled. “I do not like him.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
Kiwi laughed. “I can hear it in your voice. Oh my God, you’re flustered.”
“I am not flustered,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to glance down at the snake wrapped around her waist. “I just don’t like people paying too much attention to me.”
Kiwi was still probably grinning. “And yet, here you are, watching him.”
Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
She watched Charles cross the line to finish another flying lap, his time popping up on the screens around the garage. Fast. Too fast. He was good.
That was annoying.
“I mean,” she muttered dryly, more to herself than Kiwi, “he can always have an accident.”
Kiwi's voice choked. “WHAT?”
Y/N smirked. “I’m just saying.”
“NO. No, you are not ‘just saying.’ That is a famous Formula 1 driver. Do you know how many people would riot if you even scratched his car?”
Y/N’s lips twitched. “So you’re saying I can scratch his car.”
“Oh my God,” Kiwi groaned. “No murder. No accidents. Please.”
Y/N bit back a laugh as she watched Charles slow down after his push lap, pulling off into the pits.
“Fine,” she said, feigning boredom. “But if he keeps sniffing around me, I will find a way to make him regret it.”
Kiwi sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Just try not to make him too interested. Or else I’ll be the one dealing with your crisis.”
Y/N exhaled, shaking her head as she kept her eyes on Charles, watching him climb out of the Ferrari.
She hated being noticed. And yet, there he was, standing by his car, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, looking way too smug for her liking as he winked at her.
He was definitely going to be a problem.
___________________________
He should not be this interested.
He should not be this interested.
And yet, his feet moved of their own accord, carrying him through the garage with the silent precision of someone who had mastered the art of avoiding cameras.
Qualifying was in four hours, and he should be resting. But instead, he was slipping toward the back of the garage, gaze locked onto her.
Y/N stood with her back to him, speaking into something he couldn't see. Her head was slightly tilted, her voice barely above a whisper, but Charles caught enough to know it wasn’t casual conversation.
His stomach twisted.
He had felt something was off about her. He had seen it in the way she moved—too aware, too precise, like someone used to staying unnoticed.
But he had ignored the feeling because… well, because she was intriguing. Because she was attractive.
"I've got the plans and the blueprints. Now I just have to execute."
His stomach dropped. Betrayal.
His heart kicked against his ribs.
Was she from a rival team? Had she been spying?
He didn’t even hesitate.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Y/N jerked around so fast her shoulder hit the wall. Her eyes went sharp before smoothing into something unreadable, too composed for someone just caught saying that.
Charles stepped closer, heart pounding. “What plans?” His voice was low, sharp. “What blueprints?”
She blinked, slow. “Pardon?”
His patience snapped. “Don’t play dumb,” he bit out. “What exactly are you planning to execute?”
________________________
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She could already hear Kiwi’s voice crackling through the comms, calm as ever.
"Do not kill. Deflect."
Easier said than done when Charles Leclerc, incredibly stubborn, loyal to a fault, was staring at her like she’d just confessed to sabotaging his car.
There was no way he was going to let this go. Not with that sharp look in his eyes, all determination and suspicion, tightening his jaw like he was already preparing to argue for hours.
Which meant she had only one option—get him on her side.
“We should talk,” she said evenly. “Somewhere private.”
"King, are you sure that's a good-" she takes off the comms.
Charles didn’t look convinced. His eyes flickered over her like he was trying to see through her, but eventually, he jerked his chin toward his driver’s room. She followed, steps light, aware of the way his back was tense with wariness.
The moment they were inside, she swept the room with her gaze, going and touching things.
Charles folded his arms. “What are you doing?”
“Checking the room for bugs.”
His expression shifted immediately into exasperation. “There are no bugs,” he scoffed. “What do you think? That someone is listening on—”
Snap. She yanked the first one from the closet.
Charles stopped talking.
Snap. The second one came from under his bed.
For a moment, the only sound was his sharp inhale, the kind of breath a man takes when the world tilts sideways. Y/N crushed the tiny devices in her palm, metal and wires crunching under pressure, and Charles looked like someone had kicked the air out of his lungs.
“That—” He swallowed. “That was in my room.”
“Yep.”
His hands clenched into fists. His own team. His own space. The betrayal painted itself over his features, clear and raw.
Before he could spiral, she stepped closer. “Listen, this isn’t just about you,” she said, voice measured. “This is about Anton Volkov.”
Charles’ expression sharpened further. “The FIA executive?”
“The FIA executive and black-market arms dealer,” she corrected, watching as realization and fury flickered across his face. “He trades in more than weapons. Car parts, blueprints, engineering secrets. Things that could make or break a Formula 1 team.”
Charles inhaled sharply, processing. His whole posture screamed barely restrained anger. “And you?” he demanded. “What do you have to do with this? Are you with him?”
Charles took a step forward, and she barely resisted the urge to move back. Are you expecting me to be okay with that?” he demanded, voice low, sharp. “What, you want me, to just let you drag me into this?”
He got closer.
Too close.
Her back nearly touched the door now, and he was still moving in, furious and unrelenting, eyes boring into her like he could will an answer out of her.
“You think I’d ever let you get away with something like this?” Charles said, voice rough with something between anger and disbelief. “If you expect me to sit back and—”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
Because something moved.
Fast.
A flash of dark scales, a sharp hiss, and suddenly—
"Merde!”
Charles leapt back so fast he nearly hit the wall, eyes going huge as the snake shot toward him.
“Stop!” Y/N barked, and the snake froze, mid-strike, fangs bared before it coiled back up her leg and wound around her arm.
Charles was pale. Absolutely frozen.
Eyes locked on the creature wrapped lazily around her, still tasting the air with its forked tongue.
“Oh my God,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “You—you have a snake.”
“Yes.”
“A fucking snake.”
“Yes.”
His voice climbed an octave. “A—oh my God, that is a cobra!”
“Technically, he’s—”
“I do not care what he technically is, Vivienne!” Charles cut her off, eyes darting between her and the reptile like either one of them might strike at any second. “Are you fucking mad?! You have a snake—on you!”
Y/N sighed. “Charles—”
“I—I am going to die in Monza.” He ran a hand through his hair, face crumpling in sheer panic. “Oh my God. I am going to die in Monza, and everyone will think it was a Ferrari failure, but no, it was a fucking snake.”
“Charles—”
“You—you are going to kill me!”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not—”
“Oh my God, I’m dying in Monza.”
“Enough, Charles,” She took a deep breath, then—
THWAT.
The sound echoed off the walls.
Charles’ head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, his mouth still open in half a panicked rant, now completely cut off.
Silence.
Then—
“You hit me, Vivienne” Charles mumbled, stunned.
Y/N dusted off her hand. “Its Y/N, and you were being hysterical.”
The cobra flicked its tongue.
Charles gulped.
______________________________________
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this part please leave a like a comment and a reblog!
Part 2 and 3 is gonna be up, but the timing will depend on how much traction this part gets, more chemistry is also in part 2. I think this was my most favourite thing to write. I love badass woman. Happy woman's day to all my lovely woman!!
