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stormberry-12 · 10 months

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faceless // P1: the mask... take it off ~ charles leclerc x reader

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!driver!reader

includes/authors notes: language, lack of equal rights/ gender equality, readers an unknown figure in the races, fem!reader's gender assumed as male, use of "y/n".

Bold Italics are the past.

Normal Italics are thoughts or radio messages.

summary: "There is a new mysterious driver on the grid. Nobody knows who he is, the only thing we know is that he races for Red Bull with the number 66. Other drivers call him the faceless driver for none have ever seen his face or heard him speak. The faceless driver is a legend in the making and even giving Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen a run for their money…”

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Come on y/n! you told yourself. You could feel the car beneath you hum as you broke smoothly into the corner, speeding up once again on the straight. Repeating these movements over and over like clockwork, as you did laps around the track, maintaining your position in first.

Throttle.

Break.

Turn.

Repeat.

Driving in a car as nice as a Red Bull felt euphoric, the car was sleek and fast. You glided across the pavement with the perfect amount of traction, you could overtake in your sleep.

"Nice work 66, you've lapped the back of the grid. Tsunoda coming up on your right at P20." your race engineer informed.

Clicking on your voice changer and the radio you responded, "Roger, thanks Rick,"

You lapped multiple people, continuing to feel at ease behind the wheel, your race could not be going better and you were well on your way to pulling ahead of your competition in the championship standings.

But you see, that was kind of a stressor...

Your boyfriend Charles had no fucking clue you were racing, hell he didn't even know you had ever stepped foot near a car before you met him. When you got the call from Christian Horner that he wanted you on the team you were beyond ecstatic, but of course, being the first woman in Formula One, there were some hesitations.

You had never had a huge social media presence and the thought of interviews made you nervous. Not to mention the massive fan population of Formula One that you felt already stalked you enough after meeting Charles.

Voicing your concerns with your new team principal was not a problem, and to be honest it sounded like he agreed with everything you had to say. Making you feel confident about your choice, even if you had nerves going into this alone and keeping it from your boyfriend.

"I completely understand y/n," Christian said over the phone. "I think if we send you out into the media, the drivers and them will eat you alive, not saying you couldn't handle it but that is a lot of unnecessary pressure."

"Yes," you replied. "And I want to be taken seriously, I believe people not knowing I'm a woman might just make my life a whole lot easier."

"And this is why I picked you y/n, you're serious about your work and are smart about it. I think this year is going to work out just fine."

You and Christian whipped up the plan to create a mysterious persona. You would use a voice-altering device at all times, people called you 66, no interviews or media were ever allowed, and absolutely no one could know your real identity. Not even your teammate Max, who had clearly been fuming since Horner started to favor your superior driving skills on the track, without even having a name.

"Box, box," Rick quipped, pulling you out of your thoughts, that sounded about right. You were about to take the second pit of your two-stop strategy. Replacing your worn-out hards with fresh medium tires that would last you until the end of the race and warm up perfectly for fastest lap attempts.

You turned the last corner before the entrance to the pit wall came into view, slowing the car, you took a clean park just outside your garage. After a quick few bumps up and down your car was released again, rolling down the pit lane and back out into the race. That must have been the fastest pit stop of your life. You speed past a Ferarri to maintain your previous spot in first.

Holy shit, that was Charles.

You pushed the car to the max, pulling away little by little, trying to brush off the achy feeling you felt when you saw the bright red race car in your rearview mirror. But you didn't feel right and it wasn't the thought of Charles, not feeling as calm in the car as you usually did put you even more on edge. Something was off. Something was wrong.

It was taking more effort to drag the car around corners and every time you tried to break, something in your car hissed like a cat being held above water.

"Ri-ck-y, wha-at the h-ell is going on?" your masked voice shook over the radio from the tremor of your car.

"Um, looking at it right now 66,"

You knew it wasn't Rick's fault of course and he was always on top of things when it came to your needs during the race. You didn't need to panic, he would fix it.

Stay calm y/n.

Stay fucking calm.

"Oh no, once she starts quoting Micheal from The Office you know shits about to go down," your best friend Sarah cackled.

"STAY FUCKING CALM PEOPLE!" you shrieked, pulling smoking cookies out of the oven. You could hear Lando rolling around on the ground, laughing so hard he was crying.

"It's not on fire love, you're blowing out nothing..." Charles smirked, making Lando wheeze next to him.

"Okay, don't panic 66"

"I'm not fucking panicking-"

"Oi... watch your language," You could practically hear Ricky's smirk in his voice, except he seemed uneasy.

"Ok, dad,"

"66, focus."

"Right sorry,"

"I'm going to need you to box again,"

"WHAT?"

"I'm. Going. To. Need. You. To. Box. Again."

"FOR WHAT?"

"Your left rear tire is loose, I'm sorry mate,"

You felt like you were going to scream, how the hell does that happen? The simple pit stop your crew has been doing all year, and they can't put the tire on tight.

"UHHHHH" you groaned.

"I know, I'm sorry, box this lap please,"

You drove the car as best you could around another corner, the pit lane was still about half the track away so you would have to stick it out. Charles however, was gaining on you from your slow lap times with the wonky tire. Oh boy, Charles was really gaining on you.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The car jerked to the left, and you struggled to maintain control of the wheel. The back of the car shook as you pushed it faster, you could not let Charles pass you by this much, even if you got a fresh set of tires you wouldn't have enough laps to regain pole position. The red Ferarri pulled into view beside you making your heart clench and pulse quicken.

"Leclerc trying to overtake on your right," Rick warned, "Be careful with that tire!"

Too fucking late Ricky.

The back of your car slipped, sending both you and Charles hurdling toward the barriers. You braced for impact, head pulsing, ears ringing. You tried to take a deep breath, letting oxygen into your lungs, instead, they were greeted with thick grey smoke. You could see flashes of red around you and heard people screaming outside the car, why were you still sitting there?

"Mate! Do you copy? Get the hell out of the car 66!" Rick yelled into your ear.

Both of the cars had burst into flames. You removed your steering wheel and neck guard, holding onto the halo above you in order to pull yourself out. Your boot had gotten stuck somewhere under the seat and no matter how hard you yanked on your leg, it would not budge. Your body felt weak, and muscles throughout your body shook with fear and fatigue.

The radio must have failed at some point because Rick had stopped yapping your ear off, leaving you to your own thoughts and tears that had started streaming down your face.

"Please don't advance towards the fire!" someone shouted. "Mr. Leclerc!"

Looking up you saw Charles. He had weaved himself through a part of the car that was not in flames, holding out a hand to help you. Taking his hand you both used all of your strength to pull and release yourself from the cockpit of the car. Your foot popped free and survival instinct took over, sending you both running out of the flames.

"Thank you," you mumbled, making sure the voice changer was not damaged in your helmet before speaking to him.

Charles just grunted, lifting his visor, and then his helmet from his head. He pulled off the white balaclava as well and stuffed it into the helmet.

"What the fuck was that mate?" he asked, green eyes dark. You panicked and remained silent, to be honest, you didn't really know what you had just done. Pushing the car was one of the stupidest things you could have done with a loose tire.

You slowly backed away, you needed to get out of here.

"Mate what-?" Charles let out an aggressive sigh as you turned away. "I saved your bloody life after you tried to end mine! The least you could do is talk it out-" he was yelling now and you just walked away. You knew you would hear all about this later anyway.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step into the medical car," a sharp-looking woman with glasses tapped her clipboard and then pointed to the car with her pen.

You just kept walking.

"Sir!"

"What a dick-" you heard Charles say in the distance, making guilt build up in your chest.

The tears continued to fall once more as you made your way to the Red Bull garage, you were glad the heavy helmet covered your face, and that you made the deal to never remove it. You could feel the stands of people staring at you, some cheered, some booed, other people stared with looks of fear or adoration. That crash was a mixture of emotions for everyone.

The stares continued as you passed the engineers to head to your driver's room. Guilt filled you when it came to the team as well, who would spend the rest of the week getting you a new car started for next weekend's race. When you closed the door to your room you could hear whispers through the walls, everyone was pissed.

"Christian, I want to know who I'm dedicating countless hours to mate," an engineer said. "He fucking fried the car, and now I'll be fixing it for the next 5 days, I don't even know who the guy is."

Christian, who was right outside your door said, "I know Matt, I'm sorry it's just not an option right now."

"But-"

"Thank you for understanding, if you'll excuse me."

The door opened in front of you and your team principal walked in, closing and locking it behind him before he turned to stare at you. You took the hint and removed the sweaty helmet from your head, fresh air hitting your sweat-soaked skin.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, recalling the crash clearly in your mind.

"And so am I," he said, face remaining calm, "Our race control should have been better than that and your tire should not be hanging off your car during the race."

You gave him a small grateful smile, "I lit the fucking car on fire."

He let out a hoarse chuckle, "That you did. Look, I'm going to let you go find Charles, keep your cover and shit. We can talk about this later alright, there are still some things I think we should discuss."

"Okay, thank you sir," you said and once he left you slipped back into your street clothes, sleek jeans, and a black shirt. Brushing your hair into a messy bun, and trying to touch up your makeup before exiting out the back alleyway towards the Ferrari garage. By this point the race had ended and the crowds were bustling giving you a perfect opportunity to b-line to where Charles and Lando were standing.

"You need to get a girlfriend, Lando," Charles spoke, hitting his friend playfully, "How bout that girl over there?"

Lando looked to who Charles was pointing at, "Eh, maybe,"

"C'mon mateee, she's pretty. Some might even say stunning, go talk to her!"

"This morning I saw a YouTube video with a puppy riding a motorcycle. So my bar for stunning is pretty high."

"Okay, but maybe there are different bars for different situations...?"

What the fuck were you listening to?

"The bar is consistent, the only time I set the bar low is for limbo. Always keep the bar raised no matter what."

"Uhm, okay, your funeral," Charles said before spotting you, his face lit up and Lando turned over his shoulder to see what Charles was looking at.

"Look who it is!" Lando cheered. "Your girlfriend, Charles. Maybe you should focus on your own love life and not mine..."

"Where were you?" Charles asked, ignoring Lando. Pulling you into his side and placing a kiss on your head.

"Bathroom," You replied curtly, "needed to compose myself."

"Were you crying?" Charles questioned, eyes looking concerned.

"No." you grumbled, wiping away access mascara from under your eyes.

"Well I wouldn't blame her mate, you gave everyone quite a scare with that crash," Lando shrugged.

"Oh, I'm sorry baby, I promise I'm alright," your boyfriend cooed, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug. You chuckled and relaxed into his scent. Lando was called away after a few minutes leaving you and Charles alone.

"Should we head back to the hotel?" he questioned.

"Yeah," you sighed, squeezing his hand as the two of you walked to his car. He opened the passenger door for you before heading around to his side. Turning the key and pulling out of the parking lot he blasted his favorite French rap music that you didn't understand.

"Uhh, what a day," he sighed.

"That looked like a nasty crash," you replied, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh, yeah I'm fine," Charles said, "I hate the other guy,"

You gulped at his words and tried to keep your voice steady, "Yeah, we don't even know who he is though..."

"That's also a problem, like we get it, he's good. Hell, he's amazing. But now he's fucking up other people's races by being selfish, and then hiding behind his visor because he's too much of a coward to own up for the mistakes he and his team make-"

Holy shit. Is that how people saw you? A coward?

As Charles ranted on you felt your breathing quicken, images of the crash fluttered through your mind. What would happen if Charles found out about your secret? This was the best relationship that you had ever been in, you felt genuinely loved and cared for. The butterflies in your stomach never ceased when he was around, no matter how many times he complimented you. You hadn't fully said it to him but, shit, you were in love.

Would he break up with you if he found out you had been lying?

Was it hot in here?

"Woah love, are you okay?" Charles asked pulling you from your thoughts. "You zoned out there for a second"

"Mhmm! I'm fine!" you forced a smile.

Charles's green eyes narrowed as he frowned, "You know you can tell me anything right?" his hand reached over the console to rub your thigh, reassuringly.

"Of course,"

He leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead before he continued to drive, he continued to talk about his race, and you hummed in agreement. You had back-to-back races so another one was just around the corner, you needed to pull yourself together. Growing less anxious as the night went on, a beautiful sunset captured your attention as the colors faded behind some hills, but the word coward still screamed in your mind that night as you drifted off to sleep.

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