Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)
Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.
[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]
Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)
Word Count: 1650
Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)
Masterlist
There was something wrong with your soulmate.
Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.
“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.
“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”
“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”
“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”
“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”
“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”
Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”
“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”
“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”
“Since we were eight?”
“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”
You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”
“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”
She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.
“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.
“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”
“Real romantic, dude.”
“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”
“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”
“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”
“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”
“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”
“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”
“Ten-thirty-ish?”
“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”
“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”
“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”
“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”
“I’m not buying you lunch.”
“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.
Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”
“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”
“Always. Mine or yours?”
You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.
So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.
“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”
You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”
She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”
“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”
“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”
You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”
“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”
You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”
She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”
“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”
“Your soulmate is wounded.”
“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”
She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”
“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”
“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”
“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”
You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”
Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”
“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”
“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”
“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”
“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”
“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”
Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”
You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”
“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”
“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”
Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”
“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”
“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”
“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”
“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”
You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”
“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”
“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”
“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.
You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”
“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.
“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”
“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”
“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”
You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.
(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.04.24)
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why don't you care?
GENRE! angst
NOTES! gn!reader, riki and reader r in school
SYNOPSIS! riki has a hard time expressing his emotions, which makes him come across as careless in your relationship
another day passed without any texts from riki. it seems like nowadays, it's only you who's texting first, only you who's initiating any interaction. it's especially annoying having to walk to riki's house constantly just to see him, because he won't walk to yours. it was another one of those times, you stood at his door, knocking three times. the door unlocked, then slowly opened. riki seemed a bit surprised to see you, his hair was a bit messy, he looked tired.
"y/n! shit, did i not answer your message again?" he looked at you with apologetic eyes.
"mhm.." you hummed, nodding.
"my bad.. school and my new part time job have been taking over my life. wanna come in? i'm almost done my proje-"
"i don't want to, ki, it's fine. i just wanted to tell you in person that i miss you." you cut him off, your emotions slowly spilling out of your mouth. the words hit him with a wave of guilt.
"we can hangout? we can get food?" he tried to come up with something you'd want to do, he really wanted to make up for the time he didn't spend with you, and he wanted to cheer you up because you were visibly upset.
"keep yourself busy when i'm not there, like you do now, please. i don't want to make you sad, but i can't do this anymore." tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill, the same for riki.
"no, please y/n, please, i'm sorry!" he placed his hands on your shoulders gently, as if that could really push his message across to you.
"you never even said you loved me." the feeling of his touch was something you'd craved, and also something you'd miss.
"well, i do," he paused, tears of guilt, regret, and fear spilling from his eyes "i love you more than i ever thought i could. i didn't even know what love was until i met you." this was the most affectionate thing riki had ever said to you.
"you rarely hangout with me in school anymore too." at this point you had to look down at the ground, because if you looked at his face, you'd cry too.
"i suck, and i don't deserve you, but i really need you, y/n. can i please show you that i can be better, please?" he pleaded, which made you really consider it. after a few seconds of thought, you finally decided.
"don't do this again, my love, okay?" that's all you could manage before he stepped out of the house fully to engulf you in a hug, pushing your face into his chest, where you cried silently. he felt an immense amount of gratefulness for you in that moment, all of your memories rushed through his mind, which reminded him that he should cherish the important things in his life.
a/n: jahahahhahdhahdhah angst. in nyc rn :D
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