#c^2

Jake had always been a Ferrari fan. At 14, he’d grown up hearing his father talk about the legendary days of Michael Schumacher.

The name came up in almost every Sunday lunch conversation when F1 was on: the dominance, the titles, the tifosi’s unwavering devotion. For years, though, that dominance had been missing—until now.

Jake hadn’t been able to watch qualifying. School had kept him late, and by the time he logged onto his usual shady stream, the session was over. His friends in the group chat had blown up his phone with messages.

“Ferrari front row, baby! Charles P1, Carlos P2!”

“This car is insane now. Y/N’s upgrades actually worked!”

“The fans must be going nuts!”

Jake had never wanted to punch a wall more.

Missing qualifying had felt like missing history being made. But now, with the sprint race about to start, he sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room, laptop balanced precariously on a stack of books, the stream loading just in time for the formation lap.

Jessy flopped down on the couch behind him, noisily crunching on a bag of chips.

“Charles and Carlos won’t hold the front row for long,” she said smugly. “Max is right there in P3.”

Jake twisted around to glare at her. “Didn’t you say that last time before quali? And what happened? Oh right, Ferrari stayed ahead, even if I wasn't there to watch it.”

“Doesn’t mean they’ll do it again,” she shot back, tossing a chip at his head.

He ignored her, focusing on the commentary as the cars lined up on the grid.

Commentator: “Leclerc and Sainz lead the field into this sprint race, with Verstappen in third. The story here isn’t just the drivers—it’s the car. Ferrari’s transformation since Y/N L/N’s arrival has been nothing short of miraculous. If they keep this momentum, they could be serious contenders for both championships next year.”

Jake grinned. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride every time Y/N’s name was mentioned. She’d come in like a storm after Vegas, and now Ferrari looked unstoppable.

“See, Jess? Y/N is a fucking genius. She came in after Vegas and—boom—Ferrari’s unstoppable!”

Jessy wrinkled her nose. "Big deal. Max is still better.”

Jake ignored her, gripping the edge of the table as the lights began to go out.

Five lights. Four. Three. Two…

Commentator: “Lights out, and away we go!”

The start was clean. Charles maintained his lead into Turn 1, Carlos right behind him. Max tried to challenge, but the Ferraris were too fast, already pulling a gap by the end of the first sector.

Jake clenched his fists, his heart pounding. “Come on, Charles! Hold it!”

Jessy, still lounging on the couch, shrugged. “It’s just the start. Wait till Max’s strategy kicks in.”

“Max can’t strategy his way past two Ferraris that are this bloody fast,” Jake shot back.

On-screen, Charles and Carlos began to trade places, overtaking each other with a precision that left the commentators in awe.

Commentator: “This is incredible racing from the Ferrari duo, They’re clearly working together, but it’s still a spectacle to watch. The only drivers on track able to challenge each other are their own teammates!”

Jake was on his feet now, shouting at the screen. “Yes! That’s how you do it! Show them what Ferrari’s made of!”

Jessy groaned. “Ugh, they’re actually doing well. This is the worst.”

“Cry about it,” Jake said with a smirk.

The commentary was electric.

Commentator: “This is incredible teamwork from Leclerc and Sainz. They’re swapping positions lap after lap, keeping their tires in check while building a gap to Verstappen in third. This is Ferrari at their best.”

Jake couldn’t agree more. He felt the same rush his dad had described when talking about Schumacher’s dominance. This was history in the making, and he was watching it live.

Jessy threw a cushion at him. “They’re only doing well because of Y/N. If she wasn’t there, they’d still be a team that always becomes the first losers”

“And? That’s the whole fucking point!” Jake shot back. “She’s a genius. If Ferrari wins the constructors this year, the amount of love she all get will be insane"

The camera cut to the Ferrari garage, where Fred Vasseur and Y/N stood side by side, their expressions a mix of focus and pride.

“You see that? That's the miracle worker” Jake pointed at the screen. “That’s the woman who saved Ferrari.”

Jessy rolled her eyes. “You act like she’s some kind of superhero.”

“She is!” Jake snapped. “If Ferrari wins the constructors’ championship because of her, the tifosi will worship her. And they should! Nobody’s done more for this team in years.”

Commentator: “This is sensational racing from Ferrari. The upgrades Y/N L/N has brought to this car have turned it into an unstoppable machine. And with Sainz leaving for Williams next year, it’s clear he’s giving everything he has in these final races.”

Jake felt a pang of sadness. Carlos had become one of his favorites, a driver who embodied everything he loved about Ferrari. The thought of him leaving was bittersweet, especially with how dominant the team had become.

On the sixth lap, George Russell’s voice crackled over the radio.

George Russell: “What are they running on, rocket fuel? This is insane.”

Jake smirked, hearing the frustration.

“They’re running on genius,” he muttered, “Thanks to Y/N.”

The commentary picked up on it too.

Commentator: “Russell’s not the first driver to question the legality of this Ferrari. But let’s be clear—there’s no doubt that Y/N L/N has played within the rules. Her integrity is unquestioned, and what we’re seeing here is simply engineering brilliance.”

Jessy rolled her eyes. “Ugh, it’s so boring when no one can challenge them.”

“Boring? This is history,” Jake shot back. “This is what Dad talked about when he said Ferrari was unbeatable. Look at them!”

On track, Charles and Carlos continued their duel, their mutual respect shining through every overtake and defensive move. The camera caught Fred Vasseur watching from the pit wall, his face a mix of pride and emotion.

By lap 10, the gap to Verstappen had grown to nearly seven seconds. Even the Red Bull engineers seemed resigned.

Max Verstappen: “We can’t touch them, not today.”

Jake’s chest swelled. Hearing Max Verstappen himself, admit defeat was a victory in itself.

On track, the Ferraris continued their domination. Max had fallen back slightly, unable to keep up with the pace of the red cars. The live team radio added to the drama.

Carlos Sainz: “Tyres are holding up well. Let’s keep pushing, and tell Charles I’ll take the lead next lap.” his engineer relayed his message over to the 16 garage.

Charles Leclerc: “Copy that. Let’s keep it clean.”

Jake smirked. “They’re playing bloody hot potato with P1.”

“Still not as exciting as Max,” Jessy muttered.

Jake ignored her, too caught up in the race. The laps flew by, the Ferraris extending their lead with every sector. The commentary grew increasingly excited.

Commentator: “This is Ferrari at its finest. The teamwork, the pace, the strategy—it’s all coming together. Y/N L/N’s impact cannot be overstated. She’s turned this team into a powerhouse.”

The screen cut to a segment replaying live team radios. Jake straightened, his focus shifting entirely.

Lando Norris: "Alright, I’m calling it. They’ve got a time machine in that garage. I’m just here to admire them at this point."

Engineer: "Focus, Lando."

Lando: "Oh, I’m focused... on how fast I’m losing."

Yuki Tsunoda: "Is this real? Or am I seeing things?"

Engineer: "Real, Yuki. Just... don’t look at it for too long. You’ll start doubting everything."

Yuki: "I’m already doubting everything."

Fernando Alonso: "I think they hired a wizard. Her name’s Y/N."

Jake burst out laughing, smacking his knee. "See? Even Alonso gets it! Y/N’s magic is undeniable."

Jessy rolled her eyes. "She’s not magic; it’s just engineering. Max has better skills anyway."

Jake waved her off. "Whatever you say, Jess. But this 'just engineering' is about to rewrite history."

George Russell: "It’s like they strapped rocket boosters to their cars. How is this legal?"

Jake practically fell off the couch laughing.

"George! Mate, it’s all legal. Stop being so salty and enjoy the view from P8."

Jessy gave him a side-eye. "He’s not wrong. It’s suspicious."

"Suspiciously brilliant, maybe," Jake countered, pointing at the screen. "Y/N wouldn’t risk her career. She’s got integrity."

The commentary returned, interspersed with reactions from the garage. The Ferrari team looked electric, faces lighting up every time the onboard cameras caught Charles or Carlos overtaking or defending. The commentators couldn’t contain their excitement either.

Commentator: "It’s not just speed—it’s precision. Ferrari is putting on a clinic today, and everyone knows it. These drivers are in a league of their own."

Jake felt his chest swell with pride. This wasn’t just about winning a race; it was about the legacy. He thought of his dad and the stories he’d shared about Schumacher. Back then, Ferrari was synonymous with greatness, and today, Jake felt like he was living that dream all over again.

The team radios came back for another round.

Sergio Pérez: "Who’s leading right now?"

Engineer: "Don’t ask. Please. Just don’t."

Jake howled with laughter, doubling over. "That’s priceless! Even Checo’s engineer doesn’t want to say it. They all know Ferrari’s untouchable!"

Oscar Piastri: "What are they running?"

Engineer: "Legal upgrades, Oscar."

Oscar’s voice was full of disbelief. "Define legal."

Jake grinned. "Classic Oscar. Welcome to Ferrari’s world, mate."

The camera cut to the Ferrari pit wall, where the engineers looked almost serene compared to the chaos unfolding elsewhere. Jake felt a swell of pride as he imagined Y/N L/N among them, the mastermind behind this resurgence.

Pierre Gasly: "This is unreal. What did Ferrari put in that car? It’s not fair."

Engineer: "Stay on track, Pierre. We’re aiming for points."

Franck Colapinto : "If I had a pesso for every time I’ve been passed by the Ferraris, I’d be able to buy the team!"

Engineer: "Stay focused, Franco."

Franco: "Focus? I’m just trying to figure out where it’s going to stop."

Esteban Ocon: “I think I saw a Ferrari in my mirrors... again. I thought it was lapped cars, but no, they're still leading.”

Engineer: “Yeah, they’re leading by a lot. Let’s focus on our race.”

Esteban: “I’m starting to think I need a bigger rearview mirror.”

Jake chuckled, glancing over at Jessy, who was still giving her usual Max Verstappen commentary. Her opinions weren’t quite as “refined” as Jake’s, but she loved the drama. She shot him a look. Max might be her guy, but she was quietly respecting what Ferrari was doing.

Valtteri Bottas: “Well, Ferrari’s making a comeback. Should’ve known they’d pull something like this.”

Engineer: “You’re doing great, Valtteri. Keep it up.”

Valtteri: “Yeah, great. Just no Ferrari in my mirrors would be even better.”

As Jake watches the final laps, these exchanges fill his ears. He can’t help but chuckle. Each radio message, though full of frustration and disbelief, only reminds him how proud he is of his Ferrari.

They’re not just leading—they’re dominating. Jake’s fingers hover over his keyboard, his excitement barely contained.

He had seen his father’s admiration for Schumacher’s reign, the reverence for those legendary names, and now he was witnessing the next chapter unfold right before his eyes.

And this time, it wasn’t just the drivers—it was the engineer behind the wheel. The very woman whose work was propelling them forward.

In his heart, Jake knew the Tifosi were watching, too. Ferrari was back—and with Y/N leading them, they were unstoppable.

As the final lap started, Jake felt his pulse race faster than the cars on the screen.

He barely registered the radio messages anymore, the buzz of voices all blending into a single white noise.

Everything had led to this moment—this final lap, where Ferrari led the charge into the future, and the world watched and the Tifosi roared.

The commentary, the live reactions from the driver radios—none of it mattered now. There was only one thing on Jake’s mind: Ferrari was winning. Not just any race. This wasn’t just a podium. This was the race. The race that marked their return. Their resurgence. Their absolute dominance.

He could imagine his dad watching from somewhere, eyes glued to the screen, his arms crossed in that way that always meant he was trying not to smile but couldn't help it.

Jake had grown up hearing stories about Ferrari’s triumphs, their heartbreaks, their comebacks. But this... this was different. This wasn’t just another win. This was a statement . Ferrari wasn’t just back; they were in control.

Y/N had made them unstoppable. Ferrari, his team, had been through so much. The heartbreaks. The near-misses. The years of waiting for something to reignite the flame that once blazed so brightly.

And now, the car, the drivers, the team—everything was finally clicking. They weren’t just competing; they were leading .

Jake's mind wandered to his father, remembering the stories he used to tell him about the greats—the legends like Schumacher, Senna, and Lauda. The racers who defined eras, who changed the sport.

His father had passed before he could see this moment, but Jake could feel it now, the pride his dad would’ve felt, coursing through his veins. This was more than just a race win. It was the fulfillment of every hope.

Every whispered promise to his dad to never give up on Ferrari.

Jake wiped his eyes, surprised to feel tears there, blurring his vision. He didn’t care. He didn’t even notice when the smile finally broke out on his face.

As the cars streaked toward the final corners, the sound of the engine from Ferrari—a deep, perfect roar—echoed through the speakers. Jake didn’t know if it was the car or the pure weight of the moment. Maybe both.

He could picture them, the Tifosi, every one of them on their feet, their hearts in their throats, chanting together in unison. They had waited so long for this moment, and now it was here. Y/N had brought them back.

The checkered flag fell.

Ferrari crossed the line, and the roar from the Tifosi rattled the airwaves. Jake sat back, his heart still pounding, overwhelmed.

Commentator: "THEY'VE DONE IT, FERRARI HAS NOW EQUALLED MCLAREN'S POINTS FOR THE CONSTRUCTORS. P1 AND P2. CONGRATULATIONS FERRARI"

And in that moment, it wasn’t just Y/N who had won. It was every single Tifoso. Every single fan who had spent years, decades even, wondering if Ferrari would return to their glory days.

Jake wasn’t sure if it was the emotion of the moment or the overwhelming pride flooding his chest, but he realized then that he would remember this race for the rest of his life.

A new chapter had been written in Ferrari’s history, and this time, Y/N had rewritten what it meant to lead.

Jake could almost hear his father’s voice, a quiet chuckle in the back of his mind: “Well, I told you they’d do it, didn’t I?”

And for the first time in a long while, Jake smiled. For Ferrari. For his father. And for every tifosi that has bled Ferrari red.

"Forza Ferrari Sempre"

_______________________________________

Post race

The roar of the Tifosi’s celebration still rang in Y/N’s ears. Ferrari had just taken the Sprint victory in Qatar, a crucial step toward clinching the Constructors’ Championship. Their points were now equalled to McLaren. But there was no time to bask in the glory.

The real battle was still ahead—the Qatar Grand Prix would decide everything. It was only a day away, and the pressure was mounting. Y/N could feel the weight of it all—the hopes of the team, the fans, and herself.

She was standing in front of her laptop, running through the telemetry one last time, fingers dancing over the keyboard as she calculated and rechecked every detail.

Charles stood by the doorway of the small room, his eyes drawn to Y/N as she stared intently at her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the sharp determination in her expression.

He had been watching her like this for weeks, captivated not just by her brilliance but by something deeper—an intensity that seemed to radiate from her even when she was lost in her work.

He had caught her eye a few times before, playful exchanges here and there, teasing banter and long hugs that always left him wanting more.

And yet, despite the flirty remarks and the undeniable tension between them, something held him back. Was it the pressure of the championship, the importance of the team’s success? Or was it something more, the fear of crossing a line they both felt but had never quite dared to step over?

As the moments ticked by, the weight of the upcoming race bearing down on both of them, Charles felt something shift in the air between them.

She had always been so focused, so immersed in her work, but he could see now that she was ready to take a break. And if he was honest with himself, so was he.

It wasn’t just about the championship anymore; it was about what had been building between them all this time. He could feel it in the way they spoke to each other, in the way they both always found reasons to linger just a little bit longer after meetings, in the small touches that seemed to say so much without saying anything at all.

He wasn’t sure if she was as ready for this as he was, but he could feel a spark of confidence growing inside him.

This wasn’t just a moment of impulse; it was the culmination of weeks of subtle flirtation, of unspoken tension.

Y/N wasn’t just a brilliant engineer, a genius whose mind he admired—she was someone who had become a constant presence in his thoughts, someone who made his heart race in ways he hadn’t expected.

And in this moment, as he watched her from across the room, he knew. He could do this. They could do this. He could finally take the chance.

He’d been second-guessing himself for far too long, but now, with the adrenaline of the Sprint victory still pumping through his veins and the knowledge that everything was about to change, Charles made a decision.

He took a step forward, and as he did, the last of his hesitation faded away. The pressure of the race tomorrow would always be there, but this moment—this feeling, this unspoken connection with her—it was too important to let slip away.

“What if,” Charles began, his voice breaking the stillness, “you took a moment to just... breathe?”

Y/N didn’t look up, but the corners of her lips twitched at his familiar teasing tone. “What if I told you I’m in no mood for distractions, Charles?” she replied, her voice sharper than she intended.

Charles smirked, taking a step forward. “What if I told you that you’re more than entitled to a distraction, especially after what we just pulled off?” He walked closer, his presence filling the room as he leaned over her desk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What if I told you that I’m the distraction you need right now?”

He could see her eyes flicker up to meet his, her expression unreadable at first, and he held his breath. Was she going to brush him off? Would she pull away, like she always did when things got too close?

But she didn’t. Instead, he saw the slightest curve of a smile, and he knew, with everything in him, that this was it. This was their moment.

Y/N met his gaze, her heart racing as she saw the desire flickering behind his playful smile. “The distraction I need, huh?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave as she raised an eyebrow.

Charles grinned, his confidence growing as he leaned in closer. “What if I told you that I could make you forget about all the pressure, about the race tomorrow, just for a moment?”

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, the air around them thick with unspoken tension. She was tempted—so tempted. But she wasn’t sure if she could risk it, especially with everything on the line.

“What if I said,” she whispered, taking a breath and holding his gaze, “that I might just let you?”

Charles’s smile faltered for a split second, his breath catching in his throat.

And then, without another word, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was all heat and urgency.

It was slow at first, tentative, as if they were both testing the waters. But then it deepened, and the world seemed to fall away. There was no race, no strategy, no pressure—just the two of them, caught in this moment, in the whirlwind of everything they had been holding back.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N’s breath was shaky, her pulse racing. Charles rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, a grin still tugging at his lips.

“So,” he whispered, his voice husky, “what if I told you I’ve wanted to do that for a long time?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound breathless and full of emotions she had long buried. “What if I told you I’ve been waiting for you to do it?”

Charles chuckled, his lips brushing against hers again, this time lighter, more playful. “Then we’re finally on the same page, huh?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she pulled back slightly, catching her breath. “Yeah, I guess so. But Charles... there’s a race tomorrow.”

His grin never faltered, though his eyes softened with understanding. “One more race. And then we can deal with all of this... in our own time.”

Y/N nodded, the intensity of the moment lingering between them. She had to focus. The team’s future, the championship—it all came down to tomorrow.

Charles kissed her forehead gently. “We’ll make it count,” he said quietly, his hand brushing against her cheek. “We always do.”

For a moment, Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. All the pressure, the weight of the upcoming race—it was still there, but somehow, in that moment, it didn’t feel as heavy. They had each other. And that, for now, was enough.

She whispered, just above a breath, “One more race. Let’s win it for Ferrari.”

“For Ferrari,” Charles repeated, his words full of promise, his hand lingering on her cheek.

As they both stood there, feeling the gravity of what was to come, Y/N knew one thing for sure: This was more than just a race. It was the culmination of everything they had worked for. And together, with Charles by her side, they would give it their all.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

This is second to last part.

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Jules ♡