Fuck you Leclerc | Charles Leclerc

2

Bahrain Grand Prix

"It's light out and away we go!"

Adrenaline rushes throughout my entire body; my craving for the thrill I have missed over the winter has now been satisfied. Starting the season at P3 was not bad. In fact, it was amazing.

My foot hits the accelerator, feeling the sudden push against my chest, as my back is shoved to the back of my seat.

oh how I missed this feeling.

The two redbulls in front of me were racing away, with stupid fucking Perez defending Verstappen as I tried to overtake. The crashes behind me interrupt my focus.

"What was that?"

"Don't worry about it Victoria. Just Haas being Haas." Owen said, I chuckle at the dig. Poor Magnussen and Hulkenberg.

As always, my laughter turns into frustration, the sight of Leclerc appearing on my screen in the cockpit.

Oh piss off Leclerc.

I could almost see the smirk on his face. My foot itself pushes the accelerator with more pressure, unable to allow him to beat me in this race.

"Victoria stop. Don't focus on Charles right now, focus on attacking Perez."

Oh Owen, how I love and hate you sometimes. You always assume trouble between me and Leclerc then go dad mode. But then again, there wouldn't be any trouble if Leclerc wasn't a massive asshole.

"Whatever", my focus shifts back to Perez, gripping the steering wheel tightly with my hands as I turned onto the apex. The G-force on my neck felt like home; a comfortable pain. It only motivated me more.

Perez I'm coming for you.

Right on his tail, I accelerate, effectively overtaking him, hearing the roars amongst the crowd.

"P2 Victoria. Well done. Charles is also behind you. Defend him."

For fuck sake

Leclerc's chuckles were echoing in my mind. His taunts were like a mantra in my head, being repeated every second he got closer to overtaking me. I'm definitely gonna hear about this later.

Leclerc's car shifted as he tried to overtake me. The sudden sound of a strike to my wheel causes my reflexes to swerve my car off the track into a wall.

What. The. Fuck.

"Victoria are you okay? Do you hear me?"
I'm amazing Owen and no I don't fucking hear you. That asshole. Does he even know how to drive?

"Fuck. No. Yes. I'm fine. Physically." I manage to say, as I hit my steering heel wheel in frustration before pulling it out and jumping out the car.

Red. All I see is red. I feel my pulse hitting against my helmet and my breaths echoing inside.

His back is turned away from me, walking towards the paddock.

Red.

My tight fisted hands felt like darts and Leclerc looks like a perfect bullseye right now. 25 points if I punch him in the nose.

"What the fuck did you do!" I shout as I shove his unreasonably muscular back.

"Calm down Riley. Maybe don't be in the way next time?" He scoffs.

25 points if I punch him in the nose.

"Are you joking right now? You hit my tire asshole. Learn how to fucking drive!"

Those backstabbing eyes made contact with mine. Sweat glistening off his forehead with his soft hair sticking to it. Déjà vu. But only, Leclerc looks older. Way older. He was taller, looked more grown and mature, looked more defined I suppose.

His tongue separates his lips as he licks them, his tall figure slowly approaching me.

"Don't you think that's quite ironic considering Ferrari signed me first?", his lips curl into a smirk with his eyes slightly squinting, amused by the fury written in my eyes.

My hands shove his chest. They don't stop. I hit and I shove and I push.

"Fuck you Leclerc. Fuck you, your shit driving, your trophies, your podiums, your-"

He grabbed my wrists and pulled me in, "You done yet?"

Those cold eyes staring dead into mine; no emotion, no reaction, no recollection of our memories. The cameras that were directed in our direction became noticed by me, causing me to snatch my wrists away. He grips my wrists tighter, pulling me close again and raising his eyebrows as if to ask will you actually stop? Before he drops my wrists within the second. He steps backwards, that huge smirk on his face returning again.

Next time I'll hit bullseye.