#charles leclerc x shapeshifter!reader

[nichmeddar]

charles leclerc

il predestinato

charles leclerc x black arabian mare!reader

w.c.: 1.7k

warnings: angst with happy ending + one curse word

summary: charles' life throughout the years

picture credits from pinterest :)

a/n: major shoutout to the anon who came up with the prompt that inspired this! also, i would also like to point out that interactions with the reader is more of a super minor plot point, and while reader does appear in this fic, it mostly focuses on charles. one more thing, this will be different than my usual more light-hearted fics. i've decided to try a different writing still for this one :)

it started when charles was 3, when his papa drove him to a quaint town in the southeast of france. brignoles, he remembers.

charles recalls watching with wonder as his papa unloaded the machinery from the back of the car. this is the chassis, hervé had said, and these are the axles, and the wheel bearings, and the engine, and the cooling system, and the tyres and the steering wheel. the terms were all a jumble in his brain, but he understood it all boiled down to one thing: it was a red go kart, with a big number 35 etched on the front.

his papa had shoved him into a race suit and pushed him onto the track, and that was it. that's when he fell in love with the sport. the turns, the straights, the speed, the thrill. charles remembers wailing to stay on the kart when the sun had set, while his papa's friend, phillipe, and his son watched amusedly. all of the other children had gone home, and only charles was left, little gloved hands clutching tightly onto the steering wheel. when hervé couldn't calm him down, jules had knelt on the dusty ground and looked into charles' watery eyes. smiling, he had said to him, charlie, i can see your passion in racing. i love it too. but, you'll have tomorrow and forever to race. we'll come back another day, okay?

and that's what he did. he came back the next day, and gave himself to the sport of racing. one day, he decided, he would bring pride to his country and to his name through racing. entering into every karting competition there was in france, charles accelerated through the french paca championships in 2005, 2006, and 2008 while hervé watched on. he became the french cadet champion in 2009 and won the junior monaco kart cup in 2010.

charles was 14 when he raced in the cik-fia kf3 world cup, where he also met another little boy whose heart also beat for racing. he had short dark blonde hair, pouty lips, and and a lisp that was ever-so-prominent in the rare occasion that he talked. when the boy's strict father wasn't looking, he had flashed a smile and wave, but was only met the by the boy’s sullen silence. fine, he had thought, and that race, he purposefully pushed that boy, max, off the track. when a reporter came up and asked him about the accident, he had brushed it off as an 'inchident' and sprinted to his proud father who congratulated him on the win.

he remembers his father going to buy him a chocolate ice cream cone while he sat in his race suit on the kerb facing the track. curiously, a black pony had galloped by, hair whipping in the wind. it always seemed to appear at his kart races. nevertheless, it reminded him of the horse on the red and yellow ferarri logo, which he hoped would adorn his racing car in the future. thinking about it, he corrected himself. will adorn his racing car.

at 20 years old, charles had shot up the ranks to f2, under prema. another race, another win, another step closer to his end goal- to make jules and his papa proud. in his home race, monaco 2017, he felt unstoppable. lap after lap, he had set up purple sectors. charles remembers that black horse, galloping in the fields next to his simple karting races. this must be what it felt like, the adrenaline pushing to go harder, faster. however, before the finish line, a safety car and tyre problem slashed his dreams of winning at his home in f2.

bad news followed soon after, with the passing of hervé. it was a devastating blow, considering jules’ passing in suzuka a few years before. upon hearing the news, charles had shut himself off from the world and went to the track his papa had first taken him to, and where he had met jules. it wasn't until he took off from the start had reality hit him. neither of them would not be there when he stepped out of his car. they would not be there to congratulate him on setting a new record, nor would they be there to console him after a particularly bad crash. the people that helped kickstart his love for racing would never come to one of his races ever again. charles sped up, legs crammed in the small kart, lap after lap, track blurry in his vision because of his tears. the sky, as if magnifying his emotions, had thundered and clouded over the usually sunny skies. when his arms ached and feet hurt, he had sat there at the finish line, like he did 17 years ago and gripped onto the steering wheel like a lifeline.

on the way back to his car, he had saw the black mare from his karting days, dark coat rippling. she had blinked at him with onyx eyes, whinnying. charles had reached out his hand, and suddenly, in its place was a girl, around his age. he felt a sense of familiarity with her- she had basically grew up with him from a distance, urging him on at every race. he hadn't turned away when she had dried his tears and comforted him, whispering into his ears how he would carry on the legacy.

legacy? he had asked her, watercolor eyes filled with tears. enzo’s, she had responded with a bitter-sweet smile. enzo ferrari’s. i just know you will continue my grandfather’s legacy through your blood- i've been watching you for all these years. he used to always speak of a boy like you with a passion for racing. il predestinato, he called him.

but in 2018, at the age of 21, he not signed to ferrari. no, kimi räikkönen and sebastian vettel took those spots. instead, he was signed to sauber. a formula one team nonetheless, he tried his best in every race. he tried to remember the feeling back when he was 3, driving down the track straight in his little red go-kart. he had felt so fast, so powerful- like a horse running in an open field. if he went fast enough, maybe he would run right through everyone in front of him and reach the finish line. on the morning of his home grand prix, he remembered climbing into the cockpit and telling himself that this was it. this was the race that would make papa and jules proud. this was the race that would make ferrari realize their mistake of not signing him. this was the race that would prove to monaco that he loved them, and maybe then they would love him back.

but it wasn't enough. with a few laps to go in the monaco grand prix, charles suffered a brake failure, which spun out into another driver and caused both to go into early retirement. he could only watch in tears as he saw daniel ricciardo clench first place and take his iconic dive into the red bull pool. that should be me, he had thought, angry tears stinging his eyes.

that night, he cried himself to sleep, muttering his apologies to jules, his papa, and monaco for failing them.

the race in his home country followed several other unsuccessful ones; a loose wheel in silverstone, suspension damage at the hungaroring, and a multi-car pileup in spa. it seemed things never went his way. one step forward, two steps back, like they say. he would often fall into the arms of the girl that had followed him all this way, and she would let him sob into her shoulder while she whispered about the good things that would come soon. just you wait charles, she had said. you will get your chance.

2022 was the year that he felt like he could win it. like the girl (now his girlfriend) had said, his time would come soon enough. ferrari had signed him three years ago, at 22, and now at 24, he shared the team with the spanish driver carlos sainz. this time would be it, he had excitedly promised his girlfriend. she had just smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

at his team's home race in imola, at the autodromo enzo e dino ferrari, he had heard the crowd chant his name. charlie, lord perceval, prince of monaco- those nicknames never stuck out as much as il predestinato, the predestined. he would win this, he had pledged, to prove to enzo and his granddaughter that he was the predestined. alas, the little boy that he pushed off the track when he was 14 won the race, and he came 6th behind valterri bottas.

he repeated to himself the same promises before the 2022 monaco grand prix, but the result was the same as before, except his own teammate was the one on the podium, albeit third place. once again, he watched as checo perez did a backflip into the redbull pool, mexican flag wrapped around his sweaty body. good for him, he had thought bitterly. bringing pride to his country. how about me?

as the only driver in ferrari history to have a five-year contract, charles had made history at the start of the season in 2024 at age 26. the year previous had been a disaster, with redbull winning nearly all the races on the calendar. maybe this year will be different, charles had said to himself, hugging his girlfriend goodbye in the garage. she had tapped the ferrari logo on his race suit, and told him to remember who he was racing for.

before he climbed into his car, charles had recalled what his papa had told him the first time he had climbed into a vehicle. it was made up of the axles, the wheel bearings, the engine, the cooling system, the tyres, and the steering wheel. it all boiled down to a big, high tech kart, marked with the number 16. all he had to do was race it the way he did back in birgnoles, under the watchful eyes of his papa and jules. they were probably watching now, from above him.

he felt strangely optimistic as he pulled into the first spot on the grid. maybe this time, this year, he wouldn't fuck it up. charles watched as the the overhead set of starting lights lit up two by two. when they went out, he slammed his foot on the throttle.

now, on the podium overlooking monaco, charles shed tears of joy. he had done it. if only jules and papa were there to see me now, he thought, clutching the 1st place trophy. the crowd below roared with praise for monaco's il predestinato, and the giant flags bearing the prancing horse of enzo ferrari waved in the confetti-filled air. he thought he could see a familiar black mare in the distance, near the water, pawing at the ground, mane fluttering. monaco finally loved him, he had proved that enzo was right, and won the trophy for jules and his papa. as he brought his lips to the champagne-drenched trophy, he only had one thought in his head. merci beaucoup, jules, papa, monaco, enzo, ferrari, and my beloved girlfriend. i will love you all, tomorrow and forever.

[giuseppe-yuki]

popular

charles leclerc x hedgehog shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: none :)

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: no way a hedgehog can be more popular than charles leclerc, right?

picture credits from pinterest :)

the weather in zandervoort was beautiful. everything was pretty much picture perfect, with the sun shining bright and the wind making the plants sway softly in the wind. team hospitalities glimmered in the rays of sunlight and engineers mingled around the paddock area. the problem was, you were stuck inside one of the ferrari driver rooms with your boyfriend, who was deeply concentrated on scrolling through social media on his phone. i have very important work to do, he had said when he led you into the room, dumping his racing gear in a corner. now, you watch as his watercolor eyes glanced up and down at an alarming pace as he swiped through his tiktok fyp on his couch. 

“i thought you had work to do, charlie,” you say, picking at your fingernails. 

charles looks up from his phone and glances at you sprawled out on the couch next to him. ”um… yes, i am. this is important,” he replies, going back to his phone, this time clicking through instagram. 

“wow…” you mutter, glaring at his oblivious figure on the couch. “that’s not kind of you to lie to me.”

he doesn’t respond as he types a quick note to what seems to be carlos on messages. 

you reach into your bag, fishing out your tinted plumping lip gloss. after swiping a considerable amount onto your lips, you haul yourself up into a sitting position. you bat your eyelashes at charles, and start speaking to him in your sweetest voice. 

”can i have a kiss, mon amour?”

to that, he gladly drops his phone momentarily in his lap to peck your lips.

you grab him and start kissing him roughly, borderline making out with him as you try and get as much lip plumper on to him. 

“woah,” he says, pulling back afterwards, grinning from the intense kiss. “what was that for?” then, his eyes grow wide. “woah!!” he cries again, this time for a different reason. he raises his hand to his lips. “wait, why are my lips tingling??”

you giggle not-so-secretly, quickly shoving the lip gloss back into your bag. 

unfortunately, your boyfriend was a formula one driver, so of course he used his absolutely wild reaction time to his advantage. he whips out his hand and snatches the offending beauty product out of your hand. 

“LIP PLUMPER???” he shrieks, reading the fancy print on the label. he jumps up from the couch, phone all but forgotten. “oh, you are going to pay for this,” he announces. 

cackling, you leap away from him, running to the opposite side of the room in order to avoid being captured. he sprints towards you, arms out.

fortunately for you, you had one more trick up your sleeve. you throw him a wink before shifting into your hedgehog form, and scurry quickly behind a dresser. wedging yourself in the small crack, you squeak tauntingly at charles as he is left glowering at you through the gap.

he pouts at you, arms crossed. “meanie!” he snaps, “my lips still feel so weird after you cursed me with whatever that was!” 

five minutes before charles is scheduled to head to team headquarters for a meeting, you sneakily try to sneak out of the crevice behind the dresser. charles, newly dressed in a hoodie and rather ugly pair of jeans spots you though, and snatches you up. you roll up into a ball and try using your quills to poke him rather unsuccessfully. “tsk, tsk, tsk,” he says, shaking his head with a smug smile at your irritable screeches in his hand. “don’t try and purposely poke me when you’re the one who started this, baby.”

you roll your eyes at him and plop yourself down in the middle of his hand. 

however, before you know it, you are raised from your seat in your boyfriends hand into the fluffy hood of his jacket.  “ha,” he exclaims, shoving you in rather unceremoniously. “that’s what you get for being a bully- hoodie jail!” 

he walks out of his driver’s room with you tucked snugly in his hood, and both hands clutching his celsius branded water bottle and his phone. somehow, the nice zandvoort weather from before had done a complete 180, and turned from warm and sunny into chilly and wet in the time period you were inside charles’ driver room. so, you honestly weren’t complaining for being stuck in metaphorical “hoodie jail”- it was warm and comfy being wedged in the soft material. you basically fall asleep with the methodical rocking and soothing tones of charles talking to fans and other drivers as he strolls through the paddock.

by the time you wake up, you can tell a bit of time has passed. the fresh smell of light rain fills your nose, and the sky has turned a significant darker shade. you peek out of charles' hood, waddling your way out onto his shoulder. 

feeling your tiny paws on the top of his shoulder, he gently scoops you up into his hand. 

“had a good sleep, huh?” he laughs, giving you a few pats on the head.

you let out a content yawn, as if answering his question, and then stretches out your tiny body.

he smiles at you, amused at your cute antics. “you slept soundly the whole way from the drivers room and through my entire meeting. i am surprised how you even slept through carlos accidentally squishing you when he slapped my back in greeting!”

suddenly, you and charles are interrupted by the most egregious shout that you both had ever heard.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” a nearby fan shouts, absolutely vibrating with excitement. “IS THAT A HEDGEHOG???”

charles turns to the man, blinking in surprise. “um.. yes! it is,” he states.

the fan’s previous yell of delight had caused a trickle of nearby fans and media reporters to crowd around charles, eager to get a look and a picture of the supposed hedgehog in his hands. 

overlapping yells from the crowd fills your ears. “leclerc, leclerc, can you pose for a picture with your hedgehog?” “please, charles, can i pet the hedgehog?” “are you free for an interview on how you manage a pet in the paddock?” “a signature please!!!”

used to the media attention because of your active role as charles’ girlfriend, you pose yourself in a flattering angle and blink cutely at the phones and high quality cameras turned in your direction. 

“hey, do a trick!” a little girl shouts from the crowd.

you do a simple turn around your boyfriend’s hand and wiggle your butt. 

the crowd erupts into cheers, as if you had just done an impossible feat. 

“what a talented hedgehog!” a nearby reporter exclaims. she tells her crew to train their camera on you, as if the famed formula 1 driver charles marc herve perceval leclerc was not just standing right there. 

the news of your presence quickly spreads from mouth to mouth.

as charles slowly inches his way through the paddock towards his driver’s room, more and more fans come up, requesting pictures with you. 

a girl walks up, bracelet in hand. it is lined with red and white beads, with the words “forza ferrari siempre” in gold lettering in the front. charles reaches out his hand, thanking her for the gift. but, she snatches it back, shaking her head. “this is actually for your hedgehog.” she says, draping the bracelet over your spiny back. 

you give her a lick of thanks, smiling internally at her squeal of delight. 

your boyfriend lets out a grumble of annoyance at being rejected. “hmph, fine, i didn’t really want it anyway,” he mutters under his breath.

bright and early the next morning, you climb out of charles’ ferrari, phone in hand. your boyfriend reaches out his hand for you to hold, which you gladly take. it’s warm, compared to the chilly weather that has suddenly overcome zandervoort over the weekend. you pull your designer puffer jacket closer around you as you scan into the paddock.

the media stationed at the gate greets you both warmly, cameras clicking. 

“hey!” they shout, waving their arms. “over here please!” 

you wave politely, flashing your best smile for the camera. 

“they love me so much,” you joke. “those pictures of my top-tier posing went viral yesterday!”

“no, they love me more!” charles shoots back confidently.

as soon as the words leave his mouth, some fans approach him. “hi charles, when are you bringing your hedgehog out?” they ask enthusiastically. “we saw pictures of her on twitter yesterday and would like to take our own photographs with her please!” a fan reaches into her ferrari branded jacket and pulls out an ink pad. “look!” she exclaims, gesturing to it. “i even specially bought an ink pad so i can get her ‘signature’ as well.”

you raise an eyebrow at charles, smirk on your face. 

he rolls his eyes at you, and turns back to the fans. 

“yeah, ok fine, i’ll bring her out soon.”

a/n: the last oneshot for the shapeshifting series! this series was honestly so fun to write, and i'm already excitedly planning the spinoff version. thank you to all the readers who followed along with me on my journey for my first ever series! i love you all <3

taglist: ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary 

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks