mclarengf

[mclarengf]

un rosso inconfondibile

attending a fashion show (and scoring yourself a date in the process)

[2.1k]

note: in the two week long process of writing this, i have moved into a flat, broken two of my actual nails, and rewatched all the monster high movies. sorry it took so long. <3. (lmk if u want a part two??? im kinda in love w this dynamic i would be so keen to write more x)

“i’m genuinely so thankful to be here, and i can’t wait to see what looks they have to show tonight,” you trail off with a smile and blow a kiss to the camera.

the interviewer seems pleased enough with your response, and thanks you for your time before getting ready for the next famous face on the ferrari-red carpet.

the paparazzi were ravenous, like they always were— camera flashes were going off every second, while questions, directions and compliments were called out to you.

“please, turn this way!”

“who are you most excited to see?”

“give us a little smile!”

“you look gorgeous tonight! who are you wearing?”

at the last question, you laugh and gesture down to your silky black outfit.

“now, why would we be at a ferrari fashion show and not be wearing ferrari?”

your reply garners some laughs from the mob of cameras, and the reporter thanks you for your time.

your publicist gestures for you to head towards the entrance of the venue, allowing you to finally step off the carpet and take a breath.

like you had said earlier, you’re insanely grateful to have been invited to watch ferrari’s newest collection walk down the runway, but the sheer amount of pr you had to do before each of these shows… it could honestly bring about an early grave, you thought.

just as you were about to recollect your thoughts and continue to the door, your dress was tugged back suddenly.

you turned to see who had stepped on your train and found a man crouched down, trying to examine for any damage.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, smoothing out the fabric, seemingly pleased with the quality of it after his mishap.

“i was not looking where i was going. it’s a bad habit of mine, really…”

he had a strong accent- french, maybe— something european, at least. 

“don’t worry about it,” you assured him, “i’m sure no one will notice.”

now standing, he reached out, holding his hand out. you took it, and he bowed his head to kiss it gently, making his introduction to you.

“i’m charles.”

in return, you told charles your name, and that it was very nice to meet him, but your publicist was looking quite displeased with you by the door, where you were meant to be a whole minute ago.

he raised his eyebrows, amused by your story, and followed your gaze to where there was, indeed, a stern looking woman waving you over.

“i’ll see you around, then.”

charles nodded by way of a goodbye and let you leave, chuckling as you made hurried steps towards the entrance. 

your publicist frowned as you came closer, worriedly typing something out on her phone.

“come on, love, you were meant to be in there ages ago! they need to get more photos inside, and you have…” she pulled up her email and checked something quickly, “you have two interviews for ferrari’s social media, and for vogue france.”

“you worry too much,” you replied, shooting a smile at her, “it’s okay, i know what to do. we’ve been here hundred of times before, remember?”

she seemed to calm down a bit after your reassurance, but that did nothing to stop her from giving you a nudge to go inside.

you took some more deep breaths before you walked in, preparing for another round of photo ops.

at least these photographers didn’t yell.

“could we get one of you facing left, please?”

“perfect, and just another with your head turned!”

you weren’t really listening, just letting your body follow their instructions loosely.

just as you were getting into a rhythm with it, the instructions stopped coming. instead, the photographers were focussed on someone who was coming around the corner towards you.

“charles!”

ah. 

you narrowed your eyes at him as he came closer. he was walking with a cocky sort of swagger, but who wouldn’t, you supposed, with all those cameras following him.

“we meet again,” he smiled widely.

“and so soon, too,” you added before you were interrupted by the photographers asking to get a photo of the two of you together.

you both forwent verbal answers, and instead positioned yourselves to be photographed— his arm came up to your waist, and yours behind his back.

“you’re a pretty big deal, huh,” you took the opportunity to ask, in between looking into different camera lenses with him.

he laughed, causing a rapid flurry of camera clicks as he did so.

“i suppose you could say that.”

you opened your mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shout, “please, charles, now by yourself!”

…maybe these guys did yell.

you shot a ‘what can you do’ look to charles as you left the spotlight, taking the photographer’s plea as a rightful cue to leave.

he held his hands together and mouthed a ‘sorry!’ quickly, before turning back to the horde and flashing them a brilliant smile. 

jesus— he could be a toothpaste model or something. 

you made it through your two social media interviews with no hiccups, though the vogue correspondent did ask you the nature of your relationship with charles, as, “you two seemed quite friendly earlier!”

you’d laughed it off and told her the truth, though for some reason, she didn’t seem too convinced.

a loud voice echoed around the room, telling everyone, “ladies, and gentlemen, signore e signori, if you could please take your seats.”

you found yours with ease, being seated in the front row, almost halfway down the runway, to the left of some magazine editor you honestly hadn’t heard of.

you started up a conversation with her about the current fashion season, and what trends she was predicting would hit the mainstream soon. 

you were discussing animal print when a figure sat down into the seat on your left. they felt familiar before you even turned around, and you somehow weren’t surprised to see charles grinning sheepishly at you.

“life is funny how it works, no?” 

you rolled your eyes and excused yourself, turning back to the editor, only to find she was engrossed in a conversation with her other neighbour. resigned, you faced charles again. 

“are you stalking me?” you questioned him.

he understood your sarcasm and laughed, holding his hands up in innocence.

“of course not. it just seems the world wants us to be together.”

he let the words sink in for a moment, then realised his mistake.

“no, i- i didn’t mean together like that, you know? i just meant- erm…”

you try not to laugh at his attempt to explain himself, and place a hand on his knee to stop him from bumbling.

“so how’d you get invited? are you a model or something?” you decided to ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

he smiled, like he knew something you didn’t, and shook his head.

“nothing like that. i… work with ferrari.”

your lips formed an ‘oh’ of understanding as he kept talking.

“i usually do not come to these things, but i was in town.”

the lights dimmed, ending your conversation before you could reply, but as you turned your attention towards the runway, you felt charles shift towards you and whisper, “i am happy i decided to come. i am here with you,” before moving back as if nothing had happened.

was he flirting with you?

you smiled to yourself, allowing yourself a selfish moment of pride before taking your phone out and recording a video of the first model.

charles didn’t bother you too much for the rest of the show, only leaning over every now and again to share his thoughts on whichever outfit was being walked down the runway. you found yourself agreeing with many of his opinions, and he would smile whenever you told him so.

focussing back on a gorgeous denim set walking past, you caught him in the corner of your eye nodding his head slightly to the music, then pursing his lips and leaning towards you again.

“you look beautiful, by the way,” he murmured softly, “i don’t know what you look like when you’re not at fashion shows, but i’m sure it’s beautiful too.”

oh, he was definitely flirting.

another model walked past, and you took the opportunity to lean over and whisper back in his ear, “i can’t lie and say you’re not pretty handsome too.” 

a slight flush covered his cheeks, though you couldn’t say definitively that it wasn’t because of the scarlet dress strutting past at the moment. then, he was quiet for a while, and you worried you had upset him somehow. 

your fears were alleviated when you felt his body move closer once more. 

“i think we should have a dinner together.”

you turned your head to look at charles in the eyes, to gauge if he was being serious or not. 

he looked serious about it, albeit there was a cheeky smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

with the way he was looking at you so intently, how could you not say yes?

“i’m free tonight, if you are too.”

a smile finally broke out on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. 

“if you let me rush back to my hotel and change after this, you can pick me up at…” you checked the time on your phone quickly, “nine?”

at his insistence, you scribbled down your number onto a scrap piece of paper you'd found in your purse, making him promise to call when he arrived at your hotel. he replied by pressing the paper to his lips, closing his eyes as he kissed it, then tucking it away in a pocket, returning both of your attentions to the runway, though he was sitting much closer to you than he had been before.

the rest of the show seemed to pass twice as quickly, the idea of your date with the handsome man next to you occupying most of your thoughts, although a few pieces you had eyed up on the runway were also on your mind, making you wonder if you could add them to your personal wardrobe afterwards. 

after rocco iannone came out from backstage and thanked everyone for coming, the house lights came on, and a gentle chatter filled the room as the audience bid their goodbyes to each other at the end of the show.

charles offered you his arm, helping you up. no doubt the paparazzi would have a field day with those pictures. you could practically picture the second-rate gossip magazine headlines already.

the two of you navigated your way to the doors, hand in arm the whole way. you exchanged thoughts on the show to each other, telling the other which clothes really caught your attention, or which model surely had a great career ahead of them.

recognising your publicist from earlier, charles dropped you off in front of her, introducing himself when she said hello. 

“we’re going to dinner after this,” you mentioned to her, “so after we get back to the hotel, you can have a well-deserved night off, yeah?”

she waved you off jokingly and, after glancing down at her phone, told you your driver would be pulling up about now.

“i’ll call you when i am there to pick you up, chérie.” charles stepped away from you, kissing your hand again before disappearing into the crowd, presumably to find his team. 

“he’s very charming~” your publicist nudged your shoulder, teasing you. 

you rolled your eyes at her antics and took your arm in hers, leading the both of you outside to find the car.

—

you settled into the rented sprinter van and rested your head on your hand, watching the lights of the city zoom past your window as you drove down the streets of milan.

you snapped out of it when you heard your publicist calling your name. you’d missed what she’d said, so you were left staring at her as she pushed her phone into your face.

it took a second to focus on the bright screen suddenly in your vision. 

what you saw was a photo of charles and you from earlier in the night on vogue italia. 

in the caption, though, was a description of your job and his. 

‘charles leclerc, pilota di formula uno per la scuderia ferrari.’

scuderia ferrari formula one driver. 

his words from before suddenly echoed in your head and you caught yourself grinning at the realisation. you’d assumed he was just a corporate employee, but no— he was one of two drivers upholding the entire ferrari legacy in formula one right now. 

somehow, you were even more excited for your dinner now, and if nothing came of the date, you could at least go home to your friends and laugh about the first time you’d met a formula one driver. biting back another smile, you were already picturing your wardrobe at the hotel, mentally picking out what you should wear. 

[mclarengf]

hi guys so mclarengf also has no wifi at her new flat for a while

[mclarengf]

mclgf has moved into her first flat!!! it’s a shithole.

[mclarengf]

guys… this next fic is so freaking long???? yall better eat it up pls or i’ll cry???

[mclarengf]

reblog to give ur mutuals a soft lil kissy on the head

[mclarengf]

i hope that in 2025 u get to take more walks, read more books, connect with more people whom u love and who love u, achieve ur goals (even if ur goals are having no goals and just living in the moment), exercise fun hobbies, move from a place of self-direction, and weave together a beguiling assortment of beautiful little moments. remember that no feeling lasts forever. love u

[mclarengf]

[mclarengf]

il faut que je te dise quelque chose

a new years party? i bet absolutely nothing will happen.

[1.1k]

note: happy new year yall!!! i hope 2025 brings u all a lot of happiness and good luck x

“i’m gonna do it.”

lando looked up from his phone, “what?”  i haven’t been listening to you at all.”

you pouted at him before repeating yourself, “i’m gonna kiss him tonight. at midnight. for real.”

“wait, oscar?”

you flicked him square in the forehead for his stupidity.

“who else, dummy? i’m gonna sit him down and tell him how i feel, and then, if he somehow feels the same way, i’m gonna kiss him.”

he barks out a laugh and tells you, “about time!”

you liked oscar, and lando was the only other person who knew it. ever since he figured it out in miami, lando had made your life miserable, constantly teasing you if you blushed after oscar complimented you, or if you lost your train of thought when he walked in the room.

“anyway, are you done yet? max wants to know when he should pick us up.”

some of your friends in monaco are throwing a new years party tonight, and you and lando, your closest friend here, are getting ready for it in your apartment. 

well, you’re getting ready. he’s dressed already, in a simple button-up and jeans, and has been tapping at something on his phone for the past 20 minutes— something which looks suspiciously like jetpack joyride. 

you tell lando you have to finish doing your hair, but will probably be done around the time max gets to your place if he leaves now. 

“alright,” he slaps his knees as he stands up, “you have to tell me how it goes, yeah?”

he claps you on the back before leaving to the kitchen, probably to start his night of drinking. 

—

the party was loud. whoever was dj’ing had to have hearing damage, because anyone else wouldn’t be able to be in such close proximity to the bass-boosted speakers.

it was about an hour til midnight, and annoyingly, you still hadn’t seen oscar. that’s why you were now making the rounds trying to find him, sliding past groups of people you didn’t recognise and briefly saying hi to the ones you did. 

you were trying to navigate around a stupidly placed configuration of chairs when you bumped into someone.

“i’m so sorry-“ your apology died on your tongue when you saw who it was.

“oscar!”

he greets you with a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek, “how’ve you been? i haven’t seen you since the championship party!”

you smile up at him.

“i’m good! i’ve been a bit busy at home, so i haven’t been able to do anything else. how are you? you look good!”

you take a step back from him to take the sight of him in. he must have arrived a while ago, if his sweaty hair and the drink in his hand are anything to go by.

“you look beautiful, by the way.”

you’ve never been able to handle his compliments well, not when he always tells you like he really means it. 

you manage to keep your composure enough, though, and stutter out a ‘thank you’ before returning the sentiment. 

“you look really good, too.”

he smiles shyly at the ground, then gestures to a nearby booth so you can continue your conversation. 

as you make your way over, he places his hand on the small of your back, subtly guiding you through the small crowd in between you and your destination. the feeling of his hand on your skin burns, desperately drawing your attention. you try to ignore it though, for fear of blushing so hard that oscar will be able to see it, despite the strobing lights.  

wait, why is oscar staring at you? shit, is it that obvious already? 

you press a hand to your cheek as you sit, trying to feel how warm you actually are, but before you can properly judge your temperature, oscar picks up your talk where you had left it, and the two of you fall back into easy conversation. 

you talk about lots of things, in a way you can only comfortably do so around oscar, and you only take notice of the time again when the people around you start chanting down from 60.

“so, oscar, i was thinking…” you trail off, taking another sip of your drink as you consider how to word your confession.

he looks at you attentively, waiting for whatever you’re about to say. 

“i wanted to tell you that-“ you cut yourself off and sigh. this isn’t working. 

maybe you should just wait til another time. there’s no need to rush anything, you suppose.

35… 34… 33…

oscar has a strange glint in his eye, but you brush it off as being his amusement at your evident speechlessness. 

“nevermind!”

you try to smile like nothing’s wrong, but you’re cursing at yourself on the inside for being such a pussy. 

28… 27… 26…

you decide to switch the topic.

“shouldn’t you find some girl to kiss at midnight?”

he shakes his head, and this time it’s his turn to drink before he talks. 

“nah, i’m happy staying here with you. it’s nice.”

you melt at the thought of oscar being content to spend his new years with you over everyone else at the party. now, if only you could tell him how you’d like to spend the rest of your life with him over everyone else in the world, you’d be very happy.

17… 16… 15…

you spend the last fifteen seconds of your year internally debating whether you should still kiss oscar. i mean, if it’s a new years kiss and he has no idea about your feelings, then it’d be fine, right? 

you almost don’t realise it’s turned midnight because you’re too preoccupied, playing a mental game of eeny meeny miny mo to solve your dilemma. 

the time is brought to your attention, though, when oscar places his hand on your cheek, says, “i’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” and brings you close for a new years kiss.

you could swear you feel fireworks exploding in your chest when your lips touch, and it only takes you a second to realise what’s going on before you respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

you could die happy now, you think. his lips are so soft, and they fit with yours perfectly. you don’t even mind the taste of jack and coke on his tongue. somehow, it all blends together into one thing— oscar. 

everything is oscar, oscar, oscar. 

when you part, you’re slightly dazed from how passionate the kiss was.

“so, what were you gonna tell me?” 

although his cheeks are also flushed, and his pupils are slightly blown, oscar’s still got a cheeky grin on his face as he catches his breath. 

you roll your eyes, knowing full-well by this point that he knew just as much as you did, the whole time. 

“happy new year, oscar.” 

he raises his glass and tilts it towards you for a cheers.

“happy new year.”

you clink your drinks together, and as he slings an arm around your shoulders, you think, this year may turn out really well. 

[mclarengf]

NEED more silco x reader pls

[mclarengf]

anyway did u guys see that girl on twt who pretended she was dating that alpine mechanic and stole his merch pics to use as proof and then he had to hop on and say he didn’t know who she was and then she ghosted? some f1 fans r crazy.

[mclarengf]

two fics in one day?? treating yall fr

[mclarengf]

thinking about… trying to bake with daniel ricciardo

note: if danny ricc has a million fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has ten fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has only one fan, then that one fan is me. if danny ricc has no fans, then that means i am no longer on this earth. if the world is against danny ricc, then i am against the world. (happy holidays!!)

—

it’s christmas eve and daniel has instigated a food fight. you’re supposed to be making a pavlova to bring to his parents’ house tomorrow, but daniel’s seemingly decided that flicking meringue onto your face three times in a row is a good idea.

he looks away every time, whistling as if he’s done nothing wrong. you narrow your eyes at the back of his head, waiting for him to crack.

“what’s wrong, love?” he turns back and questions why you’ve stopped mixing the meringue batter, though his mouth twitches when he sees your expression.

this time, you stay silent, glaring at him.

finally, he laughs, eyes crinkling as he throws his head back. you wait for him to finish, crossing your arms and frowning.

daniel hiccups another laugh out and steps toward you, hands up.

“it was funny, you gotta admit,” he tries defending himself.

“i hate you sometimes,” you retort.

his face drops and he clutches his hands over his heart, “ouch, love!”

“oh, shut up, danny,” you sneer at him as you turn your attention back to the meringues, mumbling a, “cunt,” under your breath.

you can feel when he comes up behind you, warmth radiating off his body even in the summer. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, dropping his head down too.

“i love you~” he sings, trying to get back on your good side.

you say nothing.

you can practically hear him pout in your ear, disappointed in the fact that his actions have consequences.

“c’mon babe, it was just a joke! it’s christmas eve, you can’t be mad at me! i’m sorry!”

when you still don’t respond, daniel takes his arms off you and resigns himself to keep cutting up the fruit.

when he’s settled back into a rhythm of doing that, you scoop some of the mix onto your finger, reach over, and smear it onto his cheek before running to the other side of the kitchen so he can’t catch you.

“aw, you-“ he grins again, bright as anything, and lunges at you, chasing you around the island and through the living room as you giggle.

he finally tackles you into the couch. the smudge is still on his cheek.

“you’re silly,” you scrunch your nose up at him as you catch your breath.

daniel just smiles, admiring you beneath him.

“i love you,” he tries again.

“i love you too, dummy.”

he then collapses on top of you, holding you tight in his embrace. it’s nice; it’s like a weighted blanket which walks and talks and happens to be very annoying sometimes. you melt into his arms, and reach around to hug him back.

daniel’s always been your safe space, and you’re able to be that for him too now, with him being home a lot more than he had been in september, for some strange reason.

you don’t want to let his mind drift back to his career predicament with too much silence, though, so you nudge him and tell him to clean off his cheek.

instead of grabbing a washcloth, or a paper towel, or something sensible, daniel just runs his finger through the meringue and sticks it in his mouth.

you make a face at him, expressing your disgust. you can see the bits he’s missed still sticking to his skin.

“that tastes so good, baby. it’s gonna bang tomorrow night.” he looks at you in awe of your baking skills before dropping back down onto your shoulder. he’s obviously content with staying like this.

fine, you can cuddle for a while, you guess. the pavlova’s not going anywhere.

wait- the pavlova.

“fuck, danny, the meringue’s gonna go flat!”

you scramble off the couch and back to the kitchen so you don’t ruin joe and grace’s christmas.

when daniel comments on how the pavlova looks kind of funny at dinner the next night, you just kick him under the table and say he must be imagining things.

[mclarengf]

thinking about… glitter eyeshadow

note: based on a true story. glitter 4 lyf. i <3 glitter. catch me scrapbooking with those little glitter tubes we had as kids, u scared hoe? im also writing this cause i’m in mourning abt grandma and max being together forever now :(

—

you’re almost dead asleep when max blurts out, “you’ve got glitter around your eyes, liefje.”

you blink confusedly.

“what?”

he forgoes repeating himself in your sleepy state and instead reaches up to your eyes and begins brushing away the glitter he sees.

you hum as he does, realising what he’s talking about. you had been so tired after the race, you’d evidently forgotten to take your makeup off. 

“do you want me to take it off for you?”

max rolls over before you even give him an answer, fully prepared to make the trip to the bathroom and back, even after his long day.

you manage to stop him, though, throwing an arm over his bare chest and mumbling, “nope.”

he turns back to you, frowning. he’d heard you complaining about the bad skin you would get from leaving your makeup on overnight more than enough times. 

you nudge your head onto his shoulder, breathing in deeply and tracing little circles on his sternum, your eyes still closed.

“‘m too tired, max, and i didn’t do a full face anyway.” 

he stares down at you for a few more seconds before deciding you know best. if you do break out tomorrow morning, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame. 

he shuffles back down in bed and contents himself with studying your features as your breaths becoming heavier, falling deeper and deeper asleep.

the glitter shines in the light of the bedside lamp he has turned on still. it’s all over the crease of your eye, and as you shift around to get comfortable, it sparkles and glints. 

max is very much distracted, focussing on your glitter curiously. you just look so damn good right now, in the low lighting of the hotel room and with this glitter around your eyes. there’s just something about it which stirs something in him.

if he had a bit more energy in him, he would’ve taken the opportunity to lift himself over you and start kissing his way down your body with the intent of keeping you up all night, but he’s honestly just drained from the day. tonight, he’d settle for holding you a little tighter and falling asleep with the love of his life. max presses a kiss to your temple as he closes his eyes, smiling to himself when you wriggle closer to him in your sleep. 

“goodnight, schatje. ik hou van jou.”

[mclarengf]

no one tagged me but if any of u are interested, decorate my tree w a message!! x

[mclarengf]

i went offline and f1 went to shambles huh

[mclarengf]

thinking about… comforting logan sargeant after he learns about williams' decision

note: jv.f1 when i get my hands on you… 

—

“oh, my love.”

you keep stroking logan’s hair, his head on your shoulder. he’s mumbling to you, rightfully upset.

“i just don’t understand. it’s so stupid, you know? there’s no point in bringing him in now.”

“i know.”

that’s all you can offer him right now— sympathy and support.

“i know i’m not the best driver on the grid, but i’ve had some really good moments this season, baby.”

“you’ve been amazing this season, my love. it just wasn’t enough for james and the team right now.”

you’re still sat the same way as you had been thirty-odd minutes ago, when logan had come in after his meeting and given you the horrible news. it was your immediate instinct to comfort him, hold him in your arms and tell him it will be alright.

formula one is his dream. it’s been his dream since he was a little boy. it breaks your heart to see him end up in this position, especially in the middle of the season. 

“i love you.”

he looks up at you, tears still in his eyes.

“i don’t feel like i deserve it.”

you frown at him.

“of course you do. i don’t just love you because you’re in formula one, logan. i love you because you’re my perfect boy. my love.”

he lets a tear fall, blinking away the others before they do too.

“what am i gonna do now?”

you sit in silence for a beat, letting the question set in.

“well, you’ve got one more race left, my love, so you’re gonna do your very best for the fans, you hear me?”

he nods slowly. 

“and then you’re gonna do whatever makes you happy. anything that speaks to you. you know i’ll support you in anything you do. i’m with you for life, logan. that’s not gonna change because of this. not at all.”

he burrows his head back into the crook of your neck.

“i don’t deserve you.”

you shake your head, knowing he can feel it.

“you deserve every bit of me. stop putting yourself down.”

looking at him now, you can see he’s still just a boy. a boy who’s dream was cruelly cut short by a series of bad decisions. you know he can pick himself back up, though. he can and he will. ultimately, he has to, to survive. 

you wish you could erase all the hurt he’s endured. turn back time and have a chat with someone, anyone, with the power to prevent this. you know it’s no good fantasising about it though. it’s done. the decision has been made. now you can only be there for logan as he learns to live a new life.

he sighs.

“one more race, huh?”

you press a kiss to his hair and wrap your arms back around him.

“one more race.”

his arms come up to return your embrace.

it will be okay. 

he will be okay.

[mclarengf]

i’m in shambles… jv.f1 how could you do this to me. my logie bear…