#Carlos just pointing at her for everything

[ari-ana-bel-la]

another idea, ik you had the pregancy test one but what if Reader didn't actually know how babies are made so there she was saying if your pregant I wanna see when the storks bring the baby, and the grid bluescreens stork? babies? oh no...

The Stork

The night was warm, and the restaurant was buzzing with laughter. The grid had decided to do something rare: sit down all together, no media, no managers, no team bosses. Just them, a long table, too many bottles of sparkling water, and the collective chaos that came with twenty drivers trying to act civilized.

Yn had somehow landed the seat between Max and Ollie, which meant she was already giggling way too loudly at Ollie’s poor attempts to balance a breadstick on his nose. Across from her, Lewis sipped his wine with the serene patience of a man who had raised half the grid at this point, while Fernando, two chairs down, was mid-monologue about why “kids these days” had no taste in music.

Everything was normal, until Max cleared his throat.

“Uh, guys—” Max started, looking awkwardly at his plate before glancing at Kelly beside him. She gave him a tiny nod, and suddenly, his whole face softened. “We… actually have an announcement.”

That immediately shut the table up.

“Announcement?” Lando blinked. “Like, team announcement, or…?”

Liam leaned forward, already bracing himself. “Don’t say you’re leaving Red Bull, Max, I don’t think my heart can—”

“No,” Max interrupted, smiling. “It’s good news. Kelly and I… we’re having a baby.”

The table exploded.

“WHAT?!” Lando practically launched himself out of his chair. “No way! Congratulations, mate!”

“Another paddock baby incoming, this is brilliant,” Carlos grinned.

“That’s amazing, congrats!” Oscar beamed.

Charles clapped his hands together like an excited kid. “You’re going to be a great dad, Max.”

Even Kimi, who had his face stuffed full with food, broke into a big grin. “That’s so cool.”

Lewis raised his glass in a toast, proud. “Congratulations, Max, Kelly. That’s beautiful news.”

But no one was louder than Yn. She practically jumped out of her chair, eyes sparkling like someone had just told her Ariana Grande was writing a song about her.

“A BABY?!” Yn shrieked. “You’re HAVING a baby?! Oh my god oh my god oh my god—”

Max laughed nervously. “Yes, Yn, a baby.”

“This is the best day ever!” Yn declared, bouncing in her seat. “Wait—wait, wait, wait—how did you do it? Like… did you write a letter? Do you have to ask someone for permission? Was there an application form? Like who’s in charge of this process?”

The table froze.

Ollie blinked. “What?”

Kimi tilted his head. “Letter?”

Even Fernando paused mid-sip of wine. “Application… for what?”

“For the baby!” Yn explained earnestly, leaning forward like this was completely normal. “You don’t just… get one. You have to ask, right? Like—you tell the stork where to drop it off. Or do you have to go to some official office? Oh my god—who did you send it to?!”

And just like that, the entire grid bluescreened.

“…stork?” Oscar whispered.

George stared at her, eyes wide. “You—you don’t mean…”

“Yes, the stork!” Yn said matter-of-factly, looking around at the table of dumbfounded men. “You know, the bird that brings babies in the blanket. Like… is it Amazon Prime Stork? Do they deliver next-day shipping? Or like—do you have to wait nine months for shipping delays?!”

The restaurant fell into silence. Then—

Fernando burst out laughing. “Oh, dios mío. She actually believes it. The girl thinks a bird brings babies to your doorstep!”

Lewis shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel. “Not. A. Word.”

Fernando raised his hands innocently. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Not. A. Word,” Lewis repeated, like the protective dad figure he was.

Meanwhile, Yn was still buzzing. “Wait—do you get to pick? Like, do you write down what kind of baby you want in the letter? Hair color, personality, maybe even like… driver potential? Did you ask for one with blue eyes? Oh my god, Max, you have to tell me exactly what you wrote.”

Max had gone pale. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Lando buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Charles was openly wheezing. “She thinks… she thinks you send a letter to the stork—”

Yn turned to him seriously. “Well, how else do you think babies happen? You don’t just… poof, find one under your pillow. The stork brings it.”

Kimi was struggling to contain his laughter. “Yn… no.”

“What do you mean no?” she asked, frowning.

“There’s no stork,” Oscar tried gently.

Yn gasped dramatically. “WHAT?! Don’t lie to me. I’ve SEEN the cartoons. My Grandmother told me. Even the pastor told me that this is where babies come from.”

“That’s not—” George started, then stopped. “Oh god, how do we even…?”

Ollie leaned toward Isack and whispered, “Are we supposed to be the ones explaining this? We’re rookies, too, man.”

“Absolutely not,” Isack muttered. “This is a senior-driver responsibility.”

Lewis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Yn—listen. It’s a little more… complicated than that.”

“But like,” Yn continued, still oblivious, “if you’re having a baby, does that mean you SAW the stork? Oh my god, I want to see it too! What if I never get to see one? Like—what if when I’m older and married and want a baby, the storks are extinct?! Do they keep a backup flock somewhere? Maybe in Switzerland?”

Half the table had their faces buried in their arms to keep from howling.

Fernando, of course, couldn’t resist. “Careful, Yn. Sometimes the stork brings twins by mistake. Double delivery, no refund.”

Lewis snapped his head toward him. “Fernando.”

“What?!” Fernando smirked. “It’s true.”

Yn’s eyes widened. “Twins?! Oh my god, Max, are you getting twins? Did you specify on the form? Because if you didn’t, you might be in trouble.”

Max looked like he wanted to retire on the spot.

Kelly, bless her, was laughing quietly into her napkin.

“Yn,” Carlos said gently, “that’s not… exactly how it works.”

“Then HOW does it work?!” Yn demanded.

The table went silent again. Everyone looked at each other, the universal “not it” face passing down the line.

“Uh…” George coughed. “Well. You see. When two people love each other very much—”

“Oh my god,” Lando interrupted, panicked. “Don’t start with that speech.”

“What?!” George defended himself. “It’s the classic way to explain it!”

“It sounds like the start of a bedtime story!” Lando argued.

“Technically—” Oscar started.

“NO,” Lewis cut in firmly, shooting the younger ones a warning look. “Nobody here is giving her that talk. Nobody.”

“But someone has to explain it!” Yn protested, confused by all their faces. “You guys look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“We HAVE,” Charles wheezed.

“It’s just—look, Yn.” Lewis softened his tone, clearly trying to save this before Fernando made it worse. “Babies… they don’t come from a stork. It’s a natural process. Between two people. Private. Very private.”

Yn blinked. “So no bird?”

“No bird,” Lewis confirmed.

“…then where do they come from?”

Dead silence.

Fernando smirked like the devil. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Shut up, Fernando,” Lewis snapped.

“I’m just here for the show.”

The rookies were all whispering amongst themselves.

“Do you think she’s serious?” Isack muttered.

“She’s dead serious,” Ollie confirmed. “She’s too enthusiastic for it to be a bit.”

“I mean,” Kimi shrugged, “it’s kind of adorable.”

“It’s also horrifying,” Gabriel replied.

Meanwhile, Yn was still happily spiraling. “So if there’s no stork, then… how do you order one? Is it like a secret menu thing? Like Starbucks, but for babies?”

Charles had completely lost it, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

Max buried his face in his hands. “I regret everything.”

Lando groaned. “Yn, please. Stop talking.”

“Why? I’m just curious!” she pouted. “Like, when my time comes, I want to be ready. I’ll make sure my house has a stork-friendly balcony. And snacks. Birds like snacks. I’ll leave out birdseed or something so the baby doesn’t get dropped.”

Fernando actually choked on his wine.

Lewis slammed his hand on the table. “Enough.”

The table quieted instantly. Even Fernando.

Lewis looked directly at Yn, fatherly and firm. “Listen to me. There is no stork. Babies don’t come from the sky. They come from families, love, and… biology. Things you don’t need to worry about right now. You’ll learn when the time is right.”

Yn tilted her head. “…so no blanket deliveries?”

Lewis exhaled. “No blanket deliveries.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Well… that’s kinda disappointing. I liked the bird idea.”

Half the table collapsed in laughter again.

Max finally peeked out from his hands, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this is happening at my baby announcement.”

“It’s the best baby announcement ever,” Charles snorted.

“I’m never living this down,” Max muttered.

Yn, meanwhile, was still chattering happily. “Well, either way, I’m so excited! I’m gonna buy all the baby clothes. And toys. And maybe I can babysit! And—OH—maybe if I’m really nice, the stork will bring me one too someday!”

The table froze.

“Oh my god,” George whispered.

“She still thinks the stork is an option,” Oscar said helplessly.

Lewis closed his eyes. “I need another drink.”

Fernando smirked. “Don’t worry, Yn. When you’re married, you just send in the premium stork request. Deluxe shipping. Comes with a bow on its head.”

“FERNANDO,” Lewis barked.

Yn clapped her hands. “DELUXE STORK?! Oh my god, I want that one.”

And just like that, the grid completely lost it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Authors Note: Well, hello there. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. Don't be shy and send me a request 😉

[smokebombsandspotlights]

Have you considered a story where young genius reader (if she’s Toto’s daughter or related to a driver) but she struggles with the filming of the F1 movie. Like correcting everything or is unable to ignore them. Anything with the F1 movie. Doesn’t have to be what I suggested

The Problem with Being the Most Qualified Person in the Room

(or: the time Y/N Wolff tried to help Hollywood and ended up babysitting 20 grown men)

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Genre: Platonic fluff, comedy, found-family chaos Warnings: mild swearing, drivers being dangerously curious, brad pitt being a surprisingly good sport Summary: Toto Wolff’s youngest daughter is a teenage prodigy brought in to consult for the Brad Pitt F1 movie. She’s ready to make it accurate. The F1 grid is ready to make sure she never gets five minutes of peace.

WC: 4216

[a/n] this is long, like… movie-script-long snd my longest one yet. y/n wolff is just trying to make hollywood respect the sanctity of racing, but the f1 grid has other plans (none of them helpful). platonic fluff, crack, and drivers being menaces.

Part 1 — Silverstone Set Mayhem

If Y/N Wolff had known “helping on the F1 movie set” meant “running quality control while wrangling actual drivers like feral toddlers,” she would’ve claimed food poisoning.

Unfortunately, her biggest weakness was being good at her job.

Lewis had mentioned the movie to Toto one day, saying how much it could help the sport if they nailed the realism. Toto had turned to her — his teenage prodigy daughter who’d been hanging around paddocks since before she could walk — and said, “You know the sport inside and out. You could make sure it’s accurate.”

And because she’d never learned how to say no to her dad, here she was at Silverstone, headset on, laptop open, explaining for the fourth time why you can’t take Eau Rouge flat-out in the rain without dying.

Brad Pitt nodded earnestly. “Right. So… maybe not that fast.”

“Exactly.”

She was just wrapping up a gearbox correction note when the first problem arrived in the form of a papaya blur.

“Y/N!” Lando Norris skidded to a stop beside her. He held out a comically oversized iced coffee. “Brought you fuel.”

“That’s nice. Please leave.”

“Can’t. Zak told me to network. You count.”

She glared. “I’m working.”

“Yeah. So am I. Networking.” He perched on the arm of her chair, almost knocking her laptop. “How fake is this scene?”

“On a scale from one to ‘Fast & Furious’?”

“…One being accurate, ten being Vin Diesel launching a car into space?”

“Eight.”

“Ooooh, that’s bad.”

Before she could shove him away, Charles Leclerc wandered in like a curious cat. “Y/N, the Ferrari engine sound in this clip is wrong. It’s from last season.”

“It’s not even Ferrari,” she deadpanned. “It’s a V8 stock car.”

Charles gasped. “I knew it!”

By lunch, there were five of them.

Carlos showed up because “Charles told me they’re doing pit stops wrong.” George Russell came to “make sure Mercedes is represented accurately.” Alex Albon claimed he was “just passing through” but ended up holding the clapperboard. Pierre Gasly arrived with a smoothie and no explanation.

Brad tried to keep going. “Y/N, any notes?”

She opened her mouth, but Lando raised his hand. “Quick question — if I hypothetically steal a fake steering wheel—”

“You’re banned from props.”

Things spiraled after lunch.

Pierre told the others Y/N had a secret binder of accuracy notes. Half the grid swarmed her like seagulls spotting fries.

“Let me see the crash diagrams.” — Logan “Are there design sketches?” — Oscar “Does it say anything about my character?” — Lando “You’re not in the movie.” — Alex “Yet.” — Lando

The tipping point came during the pit lane sequence.

She’d just explained to a stunt driver how to mimic realistic pit entry speed when — somehow, definitely Lando’s fault — all the drivers decided to “help demonstrate.”

In ten minutes:

Lando was overtaking a camera car.

Charles was fiddling with brake bias.

Pierre was fake-commentating over pit radio.

George was explaining tire deg to a confused sound guy.

Carlos stole a prop wheel gun.

Alex corrected torque values.

Y/N yelled over the noise: “THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE CINEMATIC ACCURACY.”

Toto arrived mid-chaos, coffee in hand, and simply said, “I’m not paying for any of this.”

By wrap time, they’d lured the grid away with snacks. Y/N slumped into her chair.

Brad sat beside her. “They really like you.”

“They like ruining my life.”

“True,” he grinned. “But you’re making the movie ten times better.”

Somewhere across set, Lando’s voice rang out: “FOUND A STEERING WHEEL!”

Y/N groaned.

Part 2 — Monaco, Natural Habitat of Menaces

Monaco was supposed to be easier. Smaller set. Controlled environment. She was wrong.

The moment the drivers realized filming was taking place in their playground, the chaos multiplied.

She’d been on set for thirty minutes when Max Verstappen leaned over her shoulder. “You know they’re using the wrong curb height for that chicane?”

“Yes, Max. That’s why I’m here.”

“Good. Also… can I drive one of the camera cars?”

“No.”

By the time she turned around, Lando and Charles were already sitting in the director’s chairs wearing sunglasses, pretending to “approve” shots. Pierre was giving Brad pointers on “how to look more like a driver” while Alex quietly replaced a prop race suit zipper because it “wasn’t FIA legal.”

The real disaster started during the Casino Square scene.

The crew was trying to film a slow pan of the car rounding the corner. Lando had “helpfully” suggested he could drive it for accuracy.

Ten minutes later, there was a McLaren doing donuts in front of the Hotel de Paris while Pierre filmed on his phone and Charles yelled “VAMOS!” for no reason.

“STOP ENCOURAGING HIM!” Y/N shouted.

“Sorry,” Carlos said, filming too.

Lunch break wasn’t better.

George cornered her to ask if they could “slip in” a more sustainable fuel subplot. Logan wanted to know if he could cameo as “cool background driver.” Oscar just kept trying to sit in Brad’s race car because “I want to see if it’s comfortable.”

Meanwhile, Lando had discovered the props department’s stash of fake trophies and was posing with them on Instagram.

Brad passed her, looking mildly amused. “Do they follow you everywhere?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Like raccoons.”

The final straw came when the scene called for a realistic Monaco grid walk. Y/N had carefully instructed extras on how to navigate around the cars, but somehow — again, no one knows how — the actual drivers slipped into the scene.

Viewfinder check:

Pierre interviewing Brad with a fake microphone.

Alex “checking tire pressures” on a prop car.

Carlos waving at the camera like a royal parade.

Charles holding a prop umbrella over Y/N “for authenticity.”

Lando pretending to sign autographs for extras who didn’t ask.

The director just stared. “Is this… what it’s actually like?”

“Yes,” Y/N and Brad said in unison.

When filming wrapped that night, Toto texted her: “How was Monaco?”

She sent back a blurry photo of Pierre and Lando wearing Brad Pitt’s helmet, captioned: “Never again.”

Five seconds later: “See you in Italy.”

She stared at the phone. Italy. Oh no.

Part 3 — Monza Mayhem: The Day the Movie Crew Gave Up

By the time the F1 movie crew set up at Monza, Y/N Wolff was running on caffeine, sarcasm, and the faint hope that the drivers would be too busy with actual race prep to bother her.

She was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

The day began with what should have been a simple shot: a camera car filming alongside the prop F1 car on the main straight.

The crew was still adjusting camera mounts when she heard it. That distinctive, too-real, too-close whoosh.

Max Verstappen’s voice followed through the headset: “I’m just… testing the slipstream for them.”

“Max, that’s the camera car,” Y/N said slowly.

“Yes. I am slipstreaming it.”

“That’s not part of the movie.”

“It could be.”

Then came the Tyre Incident.

Props had set out a rack of fake tyres for the pit lane sequence. Real drivers apparently cannot see tyres — fake or not — without touching them.

By mid-morning:

George was giving a 10-minute lecture to a camera operator about optimal tyre blanket temperatures.

Logan had taken one as a “souvenir.”

Lando tried to roll one down the pit lane “for science.”

Carlos stacked three on top of each other to make “the world’s slowest race car.”

Brad Pitt watched from a safe distance, sipping espresso. “They always like this?”

“Worse,” Y/N said.

The director was determined to get the climactic overtaking shot before lunch. All they needed was the prop car and the stunt driver.

Instead, they got every single real driver on set volunteering to “make it look authentic.”

Five minutes later, chaos:

Charles and Carlos were side-by-side into Turn 1, arguing in Italian mid-corner.

Pierre was weaving for no reason.

Lando dive-bombed the camera car.

Alex was calmly following the script — until Logan overtook him, waving.

Max was already halfway through a cool-down lap, claiming “the scene was over.”

The director was screaming. The stunt coordinator was screaming. Y/N was also screaming.

Lunch didn’t help.

Pierre challenged Brad Pitt to a “mini media pen” where they both had to answer questions rapid-fire. George tried to re-script a scene to “better reflect the 2026 regs.” Oscar brought out his phone to show Y/N “Monza memes” that were definitely just videos of Lando almost falling into the harbour in Monaco last year.

Somewhere in the middle of this, Toto showed up.

He walked into the paddock, took one look at the prop pit wall — where Lando, Charles, and Pierre were pretending to “call strategy” for Brad’s character — and muttered, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

The final straw came during the end-of-day wide shot.

They needed a clean lap for the drone footage. One lap. One.

The drone launched. The prop car rolled out. Everything was perfect.

And then…

From the back of the straight, like something out of a nightmare, came a real McLaren and a real Ferrari.

Lando and Charles blew past the prop car like it was standing still, both waving at the drone. Pierre followed, blowing a kiss to the camera.

The footage was ruined. The director looked ready to pass out.

The next morning, Y/N found a note taped to her chair.

“Sorry for ruining the drone shot. But… it was funny. — Lando & Charles”

Underneath, in Pierre’s handwriting: “Worth it.”

By wrap day in Monza, the crew had given up trying to keep the drivers away. Instead, they just filmed them as “background authenticity.” Somehow, those clips became some of the best footage of the whole production.

Brad found Y/N in the paddock, half-asleep over her laptop. “You know,” he said, “I think the chaos is… part of the magic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Magic? This is babysitting grown men.”

“Yeah. But it’s entertaining.”

Across the paddock, Lando had stolen the prop championship trophy. Charles was chasing him. Pierre was filming both.

Y/N groaned. “Italy is banned.”

Toto walked by, sipping coffee. “That’s what you said about Monaco.”

Part 4 — Vegas Lights, Vegas Fights (and One Broken Prop Slot Machine)

By the time the Brad Pitt F1 movie rolled into Las Vegas for night shoots, Y/N Wolff had seen it all. Silverstone chaos? Survived. Monaco feral behavior? Barely. Monza? She had war flashbacks.

Surely Vegas couldn’t be worse.

She was wrong. Again.

The Strip Scene Disaster

The first night’s schedule was simple: film a slow, cinematic cruise down the Strip for establishing shots. The prop F1 cars were ready, the streets were closed, and the neon was perfect.

It was supposed to be peaceful.

Enter: Lando, Charles, and Pierre.

Brad was just buckling in when Lando leaned against the car. “You know, for real authenticity, we should have three cars on track.”

“That’s not—” Y/N started.

Pierre cut in. “And maybe… a little speed?”

The director, already tired, waved them off. “Fine. But keep it slow.”

Three minutes later, the “peaceful establishing shot” turned into a full-on fake F1 car drag race down the Las Vegas Strip at 3 a.m., complete with Charles yelling “VAMOS!” and Pierre hanging half out of the cockpit filming with his phone.

Tourists gathered on the sidewalks, cheering like it was a street race. Someone even started live-streaming it.

Y/N’s headset buzzed. “Uh… production wants to know if that was in the shot list.” “No,” she groaned. “That was in the driver brain cell deficiency list.”

The Casino Mishap

The next night, the props department rolled a slot machine onto set for a background casino scene. It wasn’t even plugged in — purely decorative.

Five minutes into setup, Carlos and George were huddled over it.

“We’re making it authentic,” Carlos explained.

“By…?” Y/N asked.

“By winning.”

She barely had time to warn them before George yanked the lever. The machine lit up, the reels spun… and it hit the jackpot. Loudly.

Chips spilled everywhere.

“Wait—” she blinked, “—was that even supposed to work?”

The props master ran over looking pale. “No. That’s a real machine.”

Somewhere in the background, Lando yelled, “DRINKS ON GEORGE!”

Brad Pitt’s Disappearing Helmet

Halfway through filming, Brad’s custom prop helmet vanished.

“Not funny,” Y/N told the drivers.

“We didn’t take it,” Lando said suspiciously quickly.

Two hours later, she found it — on Max Verstappen’s head — at a blackjack table.

“It’s lucky,” Max said simply.

“For cards or racing?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Drone Disaster 2.0

The crew attempted a sweeping drone shot over the Bellagio fountains. The timing had to be perfect. The prop car would pass right as the fountains burst, the neon reflecting off the water.

It almost worked.

Right until the drone camera panned slightly… and caught Oscar Piastri and Logan Sargeant standing waist-deep in the fountain, waving at the camera like they were in a holiday postcard.

“Why?” Y/N demanded later.

“Because,” Logan shrugged, “it’s Vegas.”

The Great Disguise Attempt

Midweek, the drivers decided to “blend in” with the extras to avoid being spotted by fans.

The plan: sunglasses, hoodies, and hats.

The result: they were recognized instantly.

Within minutes, a small fan crowd had formed around “mysterious extras who looked suspiciously like Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc.”

By the time Y/N dragged them away, someone had already posted the video to TikTok with the caption “Lando and Charles pretending not to be Lando and Charles”.

Toto’s Midnight Arrival

One night, just after 1 a.m., Y/N turned around to find her father standing behind her, coffee in hand.

“Papa? What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was… activity.”

Translation: he wanted to see the chaos for himself.

He lasted five minutes before pulling out his phone and taking photos of the drivers wearing prop cowboy hats and fake championship belts.

“I will keep these for future negotiations,” he told her.

Sunrise and Burritos

By the last night, the crew had surrendered. Instead of fighting the chaos, they rolled with it — letting the drivers hang around as “background authenticity.”

At 6 a.m., the Strip was quiet again. Y/N sat on the curb with Brad Pitt, eating breakfast burritos from a food truck.

“Still hate it?” Brad asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But… it’s kind of the most accurate F1 content we could possibly get.”

Brad nodded toward the drivers in the distance — Charles chasing Lando over the prop trophy, Pierre filming it, Carlos laughing so hard he dropped his coffee.

“You think they know they’re making half this movie about them?” he asked.

“They will when I send them the premiere invites,” Y/N smirked.

Part 5 — Suzuka Set Siege (or: Why We Don’t Let the Drivers Near the Rain Machines)

y the time the Brad Pitt F1 movie crew arrived at Suzuka, Y/N Wolff was convinced the drivers had some sort of sixth sense. Not for racing — for sniffing out when she was trying to work in peace and showing up to ruin it.

And if filming in Las Vegas had been a neon-fueled fever dream, Japan was about to be a soaked one.

The Rain Scene Plan

The movie needed a realistic wet-weather race sequence. The props department had rented industrial rain machines to make it look like a full-blown Suzuka downpour without waiting for actual rain.

In theory, this was easy. In practice… the drivers found out.

It started with Pierre, who strolled up to Y/N while she was checking the machine settings. “So… how much water are we talking here?”

“Enough to soak the track and make it look like full wet conditions,” she replied.

Pierre grinned. “Perfect. I’ll get my rain jacket.”

She froze. “Why would you need—”

Too late. Pierre was already on the phone. Ten minutes later, half the grid showed up in wet-weather gear like they were about to start a 200-lap endurance race.

Rain Machine Chaos

The first test run was fine… until Lando decided the rain “wasn’t dramatic enough” and cranked the setting to maximum.

Suddenly, Suzuka looked less like a racetrack and more like a Category 5 hurricane.

Charles started hydroplaning the prop car.

George tried explaining aquaplaning to the sound guy while holding an umbrella sideways against the spray.

Carlos and Alex were having an actual water fight with pit crew hoses.

Logan slid down the wet pit lane on his back like it was a Slip ’N Slide.

Brad Pitt just stood there in his drenched race suit, blinking through the downpour. “Is this… normal?” he asked Y/N.

“Sadly.”

The Mud Situation

The crew had planned a realistic “wet grass run-off” scene near Turn 1.

It was supposed to be the stunt driver’s job.

But when did that ever stop the grid?

Carlos went first — “just to test the grip.” Five minutes later, the grass looked like a motocross track, and somehow Logan had managed to get the prop car stuck.

Oscar tried to tow it out with a scooter. The scooter got stuck.

Pierre was filming everything for Instagram Stories with the caption: "Behind the scenes of the F1 movie (realistic edition)".

Brad Pitt’s Hero Moment

While everyone else was playing in the world’s most expensive water park, Brad quietly got in the prop car, nailed the wet lap, and pulled into the pits without a single wheelspin.

The drivers froze.

“…Okay,” Lando said, “he’s one of us now.”

The Equipment Near-Death Experience

The cinematographer was trying to get a slow-mo spray shot when the water suddenly cut off mid-take.

Y/N sprinted over to the rain machine controls… only to find Max Verstappen there, looking suspicious.

“It was too much,” he said calmly.

“You turned off a $10,000 rental in the middle of a shot?”

“Yes. The water distribution was inefficient.”

She opened her mouth to yell, but Max had already walked away, muttering something about “fixing the pressure system.”

Twenty minutes later, the rain machine was somehow working better than before.

Wrap Day Disaster

The final night shoot ended with everyone absolutely drenched. The drivers had decided the only fair way to “wrap up” was a foot race down the pit lane in full rain gear.

Y/N watched as Pierre slipped, took out Lando, and both of them slid into a stack of prop tyres like bowling pins.

“Symbolic,” Brad said, sipping tea under an umbrella.

When Toto called to check in, she didn’t even bother explaining. She just sent him a picture of the flooded pit lane and the text: “Japan is banned.”

He replied with: “That’s what you said about Vegas.”

Part 6 — Abu Dhabi Finale (or: The Red Carpet is Not a Grid Walk)

By the time the Brad Pitt F1 movie was finished, Y/N Wolff had aged at least five years.

Months of filming. Six countries. Countless destroyed props.

And now? The world premiere.

It was supposed to be a glamorous, Hollywood-meets-F1 crossover event. The drivers were invited as guests.

Which, in hindsight, was the first mistake.

The Arrival Problem

The red carpet at Yas Marina was immaculate — photographers, reporters, fans pressed against barriers. Brad Pitt arrived in a perfectly tailored suit. The director was there, looking proud.

And then… the McLaren boys arrived.

Lando and Oscar rolled up together in an orange sports car, blasting the F1 theme through the speakers like it was a qualifying lap. They got out wearing sunglasses — at night — and posing like they’d just won the championship.

“Why are you like this?” Y/N muttered as she passed them.

“It’s branding,” Lando said.

The Grid Walk Vibes

The idea was: guests would arrive, pose for photos, and move along.

The reality was: the F1 drivers treated it like Martin Brundle’s grid walk.

Pierre stopped to interview Brad with his phone for Instagram Live.

George was giving technical analysis of the premiere’s lighting setup to an actual lighting technician.

Charles walked straight past the photo wall to hug random Ferrari fans in the crowd.

Logan waved like he was on a parade float.

Carlos had to be dragged inside because he stopped to sign every miniature model car handed to him.

The PR team was sweating.

The Prop Theft (Again)

Inside the premiere hall, the production had displayed iconic props from the film — Brad’s helmet, the fake trophies, even the steering wheel that had gone missing three times.

Y/N should have known better than to leave them unattended.

By the time she returned from checking the seating chart:

Max had Brad’s helmet on.

Lando was holding the prop championship trophy over his head like he’d just won it.

Pierre was pretending to auction the steering wheel to Alex.

A poor event staffer tried to intervene. “They’re not for sale—”

“It’s fine,” Pierre said. “We have… budget.”

Brad Pitt’s Speech

When it came time for the pre-screening speech, Brad stood on stage, smiling like he’d been preparing for this exact circus.

“I just want to thank everyone who made this film possible… especially Y/N Wolff, who kept us accurate, sane—”

“Debatable!” Lando shouted from the audience.

“—and patient with a group of people who may or may not have caused 80% of our behind-the-scenes delays.”

The drivers clapped. Loudly. Too loudly.

The Movie Experience

During the screening, Y/N sat between Brad and Toto. She could hear the drivers reacting to every scene they’d been near:

“That’s me in the background!” — Pierre “I look great in that helmet.” — Max “See that shot? I made that happen.” — Lando “That was the day you nearly drowned in the rain machine.” — Oscar to Logan

Halfway through, Toto leaned over. “Do you want me to separate them?”

“It’s too late now,” she whispered.

The Afterparty

The official afterparty was on a yacht in the marina. Which meant one thing: the drivers treated it like post-race celebrations.

By midnight:

Charles and Carlos were singing karaoke.

Pierre had roped Brad into a dance-off.

Lando was handing out McLaren caps to strangers.

George was discussing sustainable yacht fuel with the DJ.

And Y/N? Sitting with Toto on the upper deck, watching the chaos from above.

“You know,” Toto said, “this could make a great sequel.”

She stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

Part 7 — Sequel Set Madness (or: Why Did I Say Yes Again?)

It had been three months since the movie premiere. Three peaceful, blissful months.

No chaotic set visits. No stolen props. No grown men acting like toddlers during professional filming.

And then… the call came.

Brad Pitt: “We’re doing a sequel. We can’t do it without you, Y/N.”

First Day of Filming

They were filming in Silverstone this time. Y/N arrived early, clipboard in hand, determined to set the tone.

The drivers, however, had arrived earlier.

When she walked into the pit lane, she was greeted by:

Pierre wearing a director’s beret and pretending to yell “Action!” at the extras.

Max sitting in the prop F1 car revving imaginary engines.

Lando filming “exclusive behind-the-scenes” TikToks.

George explaining to a confused actor how real F1 downforce works.

“Why are you all here?” she demanded.

Pierre grinned. “We’re unpaid consultants.”

The New Problem: Extra Cameos

The sequel script had more racing scenes. Which meant more background drivers. Which meant the grid wanted in.

Some cameos were harmless — Carlos waving from a pit wall, Logan walking past in the background.

Others?

Lando tried to sneak a McLaren logo into every frame.

Max kept asking if his car could “win” in the movie.

Charles refused to follow blocking because “it doesn’t feel natural.”

The director looked at Y/N with panic. “They’re… um… very enthusiastic?”

“That’s one word for it,” she sighed.

Brad’s New Co-Star

Brad had a new co-star: an up-and-coming actress playing a rival driver.

The problem? The drivers decided they had to “train” her.

Within one afternoon:

George gave her a 45-minute lecture on tire compounds.

Oscar showed her how to actually get into an F1 car (complete with seat fitting).

Pierre offered “PR tips” that were basically just how to pose for Instagram.

Y/N had to physically drag them away so filming could start.

The Stunt Gone Wrong

There was one major racing stunt — two cars going side-by-side down the straight at full simulated speed.

It was supposed to be done by professional stunt drivers. Instead, Max volunteered himself.

“I’ve done worse,” he said. “You’re not supposed to actually win this,” Y/N told him. “We’ll see.”

Sure enough, the stunt ended with Max lapping the other stunt driver in the simulation run.

“Accurate or not,” the director said slowly, “we can’t use that.”

The Set Snack War

By week three, the drivers had discovered the craft services table. It became a war zone.

Pierre and Lando hoarded all the pastries.

Charles started bringing his own baguettes.

Alex had to start writing his name on water bottles after losing three in a row.

Carlos walked off set with an entire tray of fruit “for later.”

Y/N instituted a snack ticket system. They immediately tried to counterfeit them.

The Breaking Point

It was the last day of the Silverstone shoot. Y/N was reviewing footage when she realized… they had snuck into three more scenes than scheduled.

Brad walked past, laughing. “They just… add something, you know?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “A headache.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. The Monaco shoot will be calmer.”

She froze. “…We’re filming in Monaco?”

From across the paddock, Pierre shouted: “MONACO ROAD TRIP!”

End.

Taglist: @moonlightphilosopher, @karinari1@jessk23@bunnisplayground@thisdoesntexsist-cherry@bookworm-weirdofor-life@skzlover24@lottie810@josephinel83@hades-favourite-daughter@princess3055@rosiel-leclerc04@nikfigueiredo@anoukformula1@queen-aria-things@pookynknowntranger@bia-n-t-d@hellsingalucard18@omgsuperstarg @elvy16 @lagrandeourse

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes on Me - Chapter 51

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The Las Vegas paddock was already a spectacle by Wednesday morning, the usual hum of a race week amplified tenfold by the city's own brand of chaos. The drivers had been on site since early, lined up in rotating media stations, photoshoots, sponsor interviews, F1TV clips, and endless paddock walk segments under the glaring Nevada sun. Cameras tracked every move; the noise of the crowd spilt over the barriers, mixing with the thrum of air-conditioning units and the occasional bass drop from the main stage's sound system.

By midday, the drivers were deep into their duties, Max was halfway through a carefully-worded interview about tyre strategy with Sky Sports, Charles was laughing with a journalist from Canal+, Carlos was being pulled between Spanish outlets and Ferrari media, and Lando was perched in a McLaren-branded chair doing the sort of friendly banter that sponsors loved but drained him fast.

It was at that exact point the VS convoy arrived. The first sign was the slow roll of a blacked-out Cadillac Escalade through the paddock gate, trailed by two more. No branding, no obvious security detail, but the presence was instantly magnetic. You could feel the crowd turn before the first door even opened.

Martha stepped out first, oversized sunglasses, hair still damp from a post-gym wash, body poured into a two-piece sports set that looked deliberately more couture than functional. Gigi followed her in white tennis skort and crop top, Barbara in pale yellow shorts and a matching vest, Taylor in black-on-black with a cap low over her eyes, and Lila in pastel green that somehow made her look like she was stepping out of a campaign shoot instead of a van.

The management followed in a tight cluster, Julia with her clipboard, David in a navy suit despite the heat, Karen in her branded windbreaker, Leslie with a medical kit slung over one shoulder, and Paul carrying a slim leather bag that everyone in the industry knew was filled with whatever the girls "needed" throughout the day.

The entrance disrupted everything. Drivers paused mid-sentence, journalists turned cameras, even the crew members tracking tyres into the garages slowed to watch. The girls didn't so much walk as glide, moving together in an instinctive formation, Martha and Gigi front left and right, Lila slightly behind between them, Barbara and Taylor flanking the rear. They didn't break stride as the flashes popped, just adjusted the line of their sunglasses and smiled faintly in a way that looked effortless but was calculated to the millimetre.

The VS tent had been set up along the hospitality row, branded to perfection with blush-pink banners and floor-to-ceiling imagery from the ongoing campaign. As the girls approached, Julia was already issuing instructions, David trailing behind to greet a couple of waiting sponsors who'd been tipped off about the arrival time.

Martha had clocked instantly that nearly all the drivers were watching them from their respective setups, Lando from the McLaren station with a lazy smirk, Lewis leaning in the corner of the Mercedes stage, George straightening up mid-conversation with a Sky reporter, Carlos following them with his eyes while nodding along to whatever Charles was saying to the camera.

Inside the tent, the air-conditioning hit hard. The girls peeled off their sunglasses, checked mirrors, fixed hair, and listened half-heartedly as Julia rattled off the plan. The rest of the day would be filming "light" content, mostly Q&As and staged interactions with selected drivers between their media blocks, nothing too heavy because of the morning's off-site gym session.

"You've all got one-to-ones with your assigned teams after lunch," Julia said, her voice crisp. "Just make sure you're camera ready by then. No delays. David's finalising the sponsor walk-ins now."

"Copy," Gigi said, already reaching for the bottle of electrolyte water Paul had set on the counter for her.

Martha leaned on the back of a folding chair, scrolling her phone, sunglasses still hooked in her sports bra. The room was quiet except for the low hum of a portable ring light being adjusted and the faint bass from the paddock bleeding through the tent walls. She caught Lando walking past outside with Oscar and Zak, the three of them exchanging a few words before Lando's eyes flicked instinctively toward the tent's open flap. She didn't smile, just tilted her head slightly, the barest acknowledgement.

Julia clapped her hands once. "Alright, break's over. Let's get you all in place for the first round of content. We've got five minutes before the drivers rotate."

From outside, the paddock noise rose again, Christian's voice somewhere near the Red Bull setup, the click of camera shutters in rapid fire. The girls were about to step into it, another controlled scene in a controlled life, but the way the drivers' heads kept turning their way told a different story. Vegas was about to make the tension between the two worlds a lot harder to ignore.

The girls slipped out of the VS tent in their usual split formation, each heading in the direction of their assigned teams with the sort of casual precision that made it look like they'd done this a thousand times, because they had. Lila was already peeling off toward the VCARB garage, a pastel blur weaving through photographers, her small smile fixed for every camera that caught her. Taylor drifted in the opposite direction toward Aston Martin, making an easy show of waving at a couple of mechanics she knew by name. Barbara walked toward Ferrari with that slow, unhurried gait that made the red overalls waiting for her look like set dressing. Gigi, hair shining under the Nevada sun, took a sharp right toward Williams hospitality.

Martha's path was straight down the row toward Mercedes. She could feel eyes on her the whole way, flashes catching the glint of her sports set, snippets of whispered speculation from bystanders, the quiet undercurrent of attention she'd learned to navigate like air.

The entrance to the Mercedes garage was shaded, cooler, the air heavy with the mixed scents of fuel, metal, and the faint cologne that always clung to Lewis' corner. She stepped inside and the world outside blurred into the background hum. Toto was standing just off to one side, talking quietly with one of the engineers over a tablet. George was leaning against a workbench mid-conversation with a comms tech. Lewis, already in his race suit, was reviewing a screen of telemetry with his helmet resting on the counter beside him.

The moment she stepped into the garage, the atmosphere shifted. Toto looked up first, the barest flicker of relief in his expression as he excused himself from the engineer and crossed the floor toward her. He didn't make it a spectacle, didn't pull her in like they were reuniting after years apart, just stepped close enough that his arm brushed hers and let his hand rest at her shoulder before leaning down slightly.

"You okay?" he murmured, voice pitched for her alone.

The faint scent of his aftershave cut through the mechanical air, grounding her more than she expected. She tilted her head up, a small half-smile tugging at her lips. "I'm fine," she said softly, not quite lying, not quite telling the truth.

Toto's hand squeezed her shoulder briefly before he let it drop, giving her the space to move further into the garage. Lewis was already glancing over, the corner of his mouth lifting as he saw her. "Look who's finally in Mercedes colours," he teased, pushing off the counter. "We should get you a race suit."

"I'd wear it better than you," she shot back, her voice warm enough to make him laugh.

George had straightened up by now, stepping closer with a cautious sort of energy. "Morning," he said, offering her a small smile. "Feeling alright?"

She held his gaze a beat longer than necessary, remembering yesterday's quiet accusation in the tent. "Bit better today," she said evenly. "Still sick, but... you know, alive."

George nodded, his expression unreadable, but she could see him filing away the answer, tucking it somewhere for later.

Lewis gestured toward the open space near the monitors where they'd set up a tall chair for her, not quite part of the engineering row but close enough to see the action. She crossed the floor, the faint click of her trainers lost under the chatter of the garage, and settled in. From here she could watch the crew work, the data scroll, the choreography of pre-session prep.

Toto moved back to the pit wall area, but she caught him glancing over at her every few minutes, as if checking she was still there, still upright. Lewis drifted in and out of view, every so often leaning close enough to murmur some little explanation about what was on the screens. George stayed further back, polite but distant, as if still weighing whether to press her again.

For now, no one asked any more questions. But the undercurrent was there, in Toto's lingering looks, in Lewis' soft tone, in George's watchfulness. The race weekend was only getting started, but Martha could feel the edges of the concern pressing in from all sides.

The garage was already alive with the low, constant hum of prep when FP3 began, the sound of air guns and clinking tools filling the air under the growl of engines firing up in the pit lane. Martha sat on the tall chair Lewis had gestured to earlier, leaning one elbow against the counter as her eyes tracked the monitors in front of her. The telemetry flickered with bursts of colour, live feeds from the track displaying the silver cars weaving through their warm-up laps.

Lewis was at the pit wall now, helmet on, visor still up as he chatted through final adjustments with Bono. George stood beside his own engineer, listening intently, his eyes darting occasionally toward the chair where Martha sat. Toto was a tall, still presence a few steps away, headset clamped over his ears, scanning data while keeping a constant half-eye on her.

Through the occasional gaps in the chatter and movement, Martha could catch sight of the other girls in their respective garages. Across the lane, Lila sat at the back of the VCARB garage, one leg tucked under herself in an oversized team jacket that clearly wasn't hers, probably Yuki's, as she scrolled on her phone between polite nods to mechanics. At Aston Martin, Taylor was perched against a counter, chatting with Mike Krack about something that had him laughing harder than anyone had seen all weekend. Barbara was a flash of deep red over at Ferrari, bent over a monitor with one of Charles' engineers, her hair falling forward as she listened. Gigi was the picture of nonchalant poise in Williams hospitality, legs crossed, sipping from a bottle of water while Alex leaned down to tell her something that made her grin.

Martha let her gaze drift back to the Mercedes screens as Lewis came flying through sector two, the data spikes lighting up with speed. FP3 rolled on in a steady rhythm, pit stops, quick driver changes, engineers murmuring into headsets, and she kept her head down, contributing to the illusion that she was just another paddock guest with a front-row seat. The reality was that every few minutes, the low thud in her head and the jitter under her skin reminded her she was running on chemical scaffolding, not rest.

When the chequered flag waved and the session wound down, Toto was the first to step away from the pit wall. He crossed to her without ceremony, resting a hand lightly at the crook of her elbow. "Come with me," he said quietly, his tone carrying no question.

She didn't resist, letting him guide her out of the garage and through the service corridor that led to his office. The sudden quiet inside was almost disorienting after the noise of the pits, the door clicking shut, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

Toto gestured for her to sit at the small table in the corner. He stayed standing for a moment, arms folded, his eyes sharp in that way that made her feel like he saw past whatever expression she was trying to wear.

"I've spoken to the other team principals," he began, voice low but steady. "And the drivers. We're working on a way to help you, all of you, without the Victoria's Secret management clocking on."

Martha's gaze, which had been fixed somewhere over his shoulder, shifted to meet his for the first time that day. His breath caught almost imperceptibly. She was looking him dead in the eye now, but he could tell in a second, the slightly too-wide pupils, the restless flick of her fingers against her thigh.

"Jesus, Martha," he said, his voice dropping softer, less sharp than the words themselves. "It's two in the afternoon. Are you high already?"

There was no judgement in it, just the weight of concern, the kind that didn't need dressing up.

She let out a breath and gave the smallest nod, rubbing her hands over her face in a slow drag, like she was trying to wipe the truth off her skin. "I'm just trying to get through the day," she said quietly. "We've had our weigh-ins, medical shit's all been cleared. I'm just... ready for this weekend to be over." Her hands dropped to her lap, fingers still fidgeting. "Because we've got the annual VS runway on Tuesday."

The way she said it wasn't excitement, it was a resignation, like she was bracing herself for another storm she couldn't avoid.

Toto stayed where he was, leaning a hand on the back of the chair opposite her, looking at her like he was trying to read the lines between her words. The name of the runway hung in the air between them like it carried its own gravity, pulling them both into the weight of what it implied. He knew enough about fashion to understand that a Victoria's Secret runway wasn't just a show, it was the peak of the pressure, a spectacle built on the very things they were all starting to suspect were breaking these girls down.

"You sound like you're going into battle," he said finally, lowering himself into the chair across from her. His tone was quieter now, not the direct, commanding voice she was used to hearing in the garage, but something level, deliberate.

Martha gave a tiny laugh, but it had no light in it. "That's kind of what it is. Just... a lot more rhinestones and better lighting." She rubbed at the inside of her wrist absentmindedly, not looking at him. "It's an eighteen-hour day, no eating, constant fittings, constant 'adjustments.' You're in heels from call time until curtain, then straight to the afterparty where they want you to keep up the image. There's no way through it sober. No one even pretends."

Toto's jaw shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing in a way that didn't look like anger, more like calculation. He took a long moment before speaking again. "And you've been doing this since you were...?"

"Seventeen," she said, still not meeting his gaze.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back in the chair. "You said last night that every job is like this. Every contract. Is that what makes you think there's no way out?"

She looked at him now, but her eyes were tired. "Because it's true. You think this is a Victoria's Secret problem, it's not. It's the industry. If I walk away from this, there's another brand waiting with the exact same set-up, maybe worse. The only difference is VS makes it shiny enough that the public doesn't question it. No one wants to believe the angels are kept in cages."

Something in the phrasing made him stop for a second, just watching her. "You're not in a cage, Martha. Not if we can get you out."

Her lips pressed together in the faintest ghost of a smile. "You don't even know what the lock looks like."

"Then tell me," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me what we're really dealing with."

She hesitated, and he could see her weighing it, the way her fingers drummed lightly against her knee. But then her eyes darted toward the door, that instinctive check to make sure the wrong ears weren't nearby. "It's all in the contracts. Every appearance, every weigh-in, every 'medical' is signed off before it even happens. We agree to it when we take the job. They own us from call time to lights out, and if we break the terms..." She gave a little shrug. "They make sure no one hires us again. The NDAs are just the glue."

Toto leaned back, absorbing it in silence. She watched him, almost curious, like she was trying to see if he'd flinch. But he didn't. Hee just sat there, taking in every word like a piece of data he'd been waiting for.

"I'm not asking you to blow this open," he said finally. "Not today. But if we're going to protect you, all of you, I need you to trust that we can. Even if it feels impossible."

Her shoulders loosened a fraction, but she didn't commit. "I'll think about it," she said, which was as close to a yes as anyone was going to get from her today.

Toto didn't push. He just nodded once, then stood, offering a hand to help her up. "Come on. You've got the rest of the afternoon to get through. And I'll make sure you're not alone in it."

She let him pull her to her feet, and for a second, she let herself lean into the steadiness of his grip before stepping back into the noise of the paddock.

Toto walked her out of the office with a calmness that didn't quite match the sharpened edge in his thoughts. The sound of the paddock grew louder as they stepped back into the narrow corridor that led toward the garage. Mechanics passed by with equipment, the smell of fuel and rubber clinging to the air, and every so often someone would glance their way, not suspicious, just curious. Martha had the kind of presence that drew attention without effort, even when she wasn't trying.

He didn't let go of her hand until they reached the open space of the Mercedes garage. She slipped her sunglasses back on as if it was armour, hiding the slight dilation in her eyes that Toto couldn't unsee. He caught Lewis watching from his usual seat on the pit wall, the faint lift of his brow a silent question. Toto gave the smallest shake of his head, later, and guided Martha toward the main walkway where the other girls would be passing through.

They didn't have to wait long. Down the paddock lane, four flashes of VS pink appeared in a moving cluster: Lila in her VCARB jacket, Taylor with an Aston Martin cap tipped back on her head, Barbara in Ferrari red, and Gigi in the deep navy of Williams. Their respective drivers were still hovering near them, making last-minute small talk before heading to the engineering rooms.

The moment the girls spotted Martha, the tight formation shifted, they drifted toward her like gravity pulling them together. Barbara slipped an arm through hers without a word, Taylor gave her a quick once-over and a subtle nod that said she'd clocked her state but wasn't about to call her out here. Gigi's eyes flicked between Toto and Martha in one sharp glance before she plastered on a casual smile.

On the other side of the lane, several sets of eyes were following. Fred Vasseur leaned slightly toward Christian Horner, muttering something that made Christian's expression tighten. Zak Brown, half-hidden behind a McLaren intern, didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was watching. Flavio's stare was more calculating, while James Vowles caught Toto's eye and gave the kind of look that said he knew there was more to the story than anyone was saying aloud.

It was subtle, all of them pretending to be caught up in their own duties, but the awareness was there. They'd all been in that meeting. They'd all seen the photos.

Toto guided Martha toward the VS tent, keeping just enough pace with the girls to appear like it was coincidence they were walking together. As they reached the open space outside the tent, Julia and David were waiting with clipboards, the management team already in mid-discussion about the rest of the afternoon's content filming.

Martha peeled away from Toto without ceremony, sliding into formation with the other four girls. The switch was instant, shoulders back, smile in place, energy turned on for the benefit of whoever was watching.

From his position a few metres back, Toto saw Christian and Fred take up positions against the opposite wall of the paddock, eyes narrowed but faces neutral. Zak lingered just far enough away to avoid suspicion, while James made an unnecessary stop at a nearby garage door, clearly listening in.

Julia clapped her hands, oblivious or simply choosing not to care about the audience. "Alright girls, quick shoot before you can disappear for the evening. Shouldn't take more than an hour."

The girls all nodded in unison, the well-practised choreography of compliance. Martha's gaze flicked to Toto for half a second, a silent acknowledgement, before she turned and followed David into the tent.

Toto stayed where he was, watching the tent flap close behind them. When he finally glanced over, Christian and Fred were both still there, both looking at him in a way that confirmed it: they'd seen what he'd seen. And if they hadn't been ready before, they were now.

[leclercskiesahead]

French speakers vs Spanish speakers do English anagrams

by F1 Academy

[male-duckk]

thinking abt joe/carlos

[0scarp1astr1]

Wax Appointment

જ⁀➴ Desc: || In which you tell them about your brazilian wax appointment, they just have one problem, your waxer is a man. ||

ᯓ★ Featuring: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Fernando Alonso.

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Fluffy (slight humor)

ᯓ★ Warning: Suggestive humor/themes

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: First official writing, remember inbox is open! I hope you all enjoy. And if you want another part of this, you can just tell me what drivers you would like to see in this same scenario. My pinned tells you all the drivers I write for.

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Max Verstappen

It was halfway through the day when Max caught you freshening yourself back up. At first, he brushed it off, assuming maybe he worked out while he was gone and needed a shower. He was never the type to press you on the matter unless it was something that caused you discomfort, and he needed a reason to beat up someone for you. He was sweet in his own way, but a kind, gentle soul when he needed to be.

"Alright, I'm leaving," you said, reaching for the keys. Max had looked over from his spot on the couch, raising a brow. "You're leaving? "I didn't know you had plans?" he questioned. He knew deep down he would be safe. He trusted his friends, plus most of them were other wags. You always got along with Alexandra.

Letting a soft chuckle slip from your lips, you shook your head, looking at him. He looked even more confused before you explained. "I'm going to my Brazilian waxing appointment." You smiled at him. Max's brain took a moment to process. "And that is what exactly?"

You sighed, figuring you would have to explain the basics to your lovely boyfriend. "It's waxing, they do everything, front, back, and everything in between." You winked playfully. He blushed for a moment before nodding his head. "Have fun!" he replied, eyes adverting back to the television.

"I will. "I have to go, or he's going to make me pay extra! "If I’m late,” Before you have the chance to prance out the door, your boyfriend was right behind you. "He? "It's a GUY?!" he said rather loudly, moving to block the door. You looked at him, almost offended. “Yeah? "It's a wax, this is his job," you tried to reason.

Max shook his head. "No, I can do it!” he said as his eyes widened at his suggestion. "Max, you can't wax me down there" you shook your head in protest. Max scoffed. "Schatje! I've seen every inch of you naked. I know my way around your body. In fact, I know my way in! "I'm waxing you! End of story!" he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"his job? I'm your boyfriend. this is MY job."

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Charles Leclerc

The crazy thing about Charles is that you told him about your Brazilian wax appointment, but it seems he forgot. Which isn’t a surprise considering he wasn’t paying much attention when he was spoken to, but you loved him regardless.

Opening the door, your eyes landed on Charles, who was playing his sim racing, giving a soft smile towards him as you spoke up. “Okay, I’m heading out for my Brazilian wax” you said as Charles hummed with a soft smile. “Enjoy yourself mon amour, give her a tip I like when she does your waxing” he stated.

 “Ah. "Amy’s out of town, I have a new waxer, but he said he knows what he’s doing” you assume, with a shrug. Charles forgot everything at that point, his head turning fast with an expression of disbelief. “He? Mon amour! It’s another man! He can’t see what’s mine!” 

“Charles, it’s just his job. "If I was uncomfortable, I’d never book this waxing” you shook your head, he let out a sigh. “I know that, trust me I know” he assured, silence falling over before he hummed to break the tension forming. 

“Just don’t get a waxing at all..personally, I don’t need this guy investigating you like some temple”, he said, causing you to chuckle, “It’s nothing like that.” Let me get my wax so you and I can have a good time. "I feel it ruins the mood if I’m not up-to-date with my self-care!”

Charles shook his head. “Fine…but let me fuck you first before you go. "I need to leave behind something,” he said as you slapped his arm. “Charles!” You shook your head, he shrugged.

“What? I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine! At least let me label it before you go mon amour!”

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Lewis Hamilton

Fairly respectful guy, so you honestly have no issue with him, and he knows half the people you see anyway. He pays for your hair, nails, anything really. He just didn’t realize you had a man doing the waxing instead. 

Lewis casually lounged on the couch, Roscoe resting next to him and the TV playing some random film he found when channel surfing. When he saw you walk towards the door, he finally spoke up.

"Brazilian waxing, right?" he asked, wanting to double-check as he nodded your head in response to him. “You should be back in time before our date tonight. I know it’s not far from here,” he smiled softly. 

"Actually, it’s a new place I'm trying. They have me booked with some guy," you said as he nodded his head. "So how much did they-wait a guy?" he looked at you as if you had just insulted Roscoe himself. Which only caused you to giggle in response to his reaction. “Yes. A man is doing my waxing.” 

Lewis raised up from the couch as Roscoe looked over, his rest now disturbed. “I can live with you not waxing, you can just shave” he said as you cringed. “I hate shaving. "I need to be nice and pretty” you said as he groaned. “I’ve eaten it before! "Why does it matter now?” he said as he shook his head, Roscoe barking. “Lewis! "Roscoe is right there!” You gestured. 

“Excuse me baby doll, you know I love Roscoe but I’m more worried about the man waxing you!”

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Lando Norris

It was a pretty simple day with Lando playing games with his best friend Max and you rummaged through the bathroom and digging through makeup. “Lando!” You shouted from the bathroom. He excused himself from the game, walking to the bathroom. 

He opened the door as you looked at him with a frustrated expression. “Have you seen my makeup brushes?” You asked, earning a headshake from him. “I haven’t. "Where are you going anyway?” he asked. Lando didn’t mind you dolling up, but he also knew you rarely did. “Brandon is waxing me today. I scheduled my Brazilian wax for noon.” 

Gears turned in his head as the bathroom door was fully open now, his weight leaned against it. “Excuse me? Brandon? "What kind of womanly name is that?” He asked as you snickered, shaking your head. “Not a woman,” he said as he gasped. “You’re cheating on me?!” He shouted. Earning a rather offended expression on your part. “That’s not cheating!” 

“Letting him see MY woman’s elegant body is cheating!” He said as you groaned. “It’s a wax!” You scoffed. “Same thing.” My eyes only. "He’s going to try to steal you from me. "I know this because you’re absolutely sexy in my eyes and everyone will try.” He bickered back. A small smile broke out onto your face. “Are you sweet-talking to me?…” She smiled. 

Lando sighed. “Yeah. "Is it working?” He raised a brow, hating to admit how it was working, you caved in. “Kinda yeah,” You said as he grinned. “Excellent.” "You are going to get that waxing, cause now I feel bad.” He said as you, awed at his sudden change. 

“Thank you, Lando…” you smiled softly. “Of course.” "Now where are the wax strips you use?” He asked, scooting you out the way to rummage for them. “What?” he asked as he sighed, his eyes speaking for him. “Not happening Lando.”

“Do you want the wax or not? You don’t even have to pay me. You get a free Brazilian wax and I get to see you naked. It’s a win.”

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Carlos Sainz

The crazy thing is, Carlos looked into the booking since he was fine paying for it and just wanted a basic booking list to look at. It lined up perfectly with the vacation he booked for you two for the anniversary on the way. Everything was a miracle for him. 

“You sure you want to come to the room?” he asked as Carlos chuckled, nodding his head. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before cariño”, he smiled softly. You kissed his cheek, gave a soft sigh and walked into the room, knowing exactly what to do already. 

Overtime, Carlos had been texting on his phone and waiting, so when the door opened, he looked up and his smile dropped as he looked at the guy rather closely. “Who are you?” He asked suddenly, causing him to side eye his sassy tone given. “Ah, I’m doing the waxing today, my name is-“ Carlos had quickly moved from his spot.

“You? "No offense, but you can’t wax my woman,” he said. You glanced at him for his boldness. “Carlos-“  "No! I want a woman! I don’t exactly trust this process.” He glared at the guy. The man clears his throat. “I can assure you it’s a fast process,” he said. 

Carlos crossed his arms. “I want a woman to wax. If not, "We’ll be taking our leave.” You looked at the guy, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry about that,” You said as the guy walked out of the room. 

Your gaze shifted to Carlos, who looked more relaxed and comfortable, only giving you a silent shrug in return. “You scared him away…” you said, but you smiled lightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but you can’t scare away people I need for my wax”, you said as Carlos kissed your forehead. 

“Dios mío, relax. I’ll make it up to you during our anniversary vacation. In the best way possible”

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Fernando Alonso

Dramatic, you knew how dramatic he was capable of being when you first started dating, and he damn near scared the waiter away. So with the waxer, you knew it was no different. 

It was the usual morning of you both lounging around the bedroom, wrapped in the warmth of your cuddle session. “I don’t want to get up, but I can’t miss my wax either” you said as Fernando hums, his arms still around you. “Schedule it another time” he suggested, and you figured maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, so you did it. 

Sadly, you lost track of time and when you finally got up two hours later, you internally screamed at yourself. Fernando only propped himself up on his elbows, watching you move around the bedroom in a panic. “You’re only a bit late,” he said. “A bit?! Fernando, I’m hours late! I had to call to make sure I could go!” 

“And?” he sighed heavily. “The original waxer is out. Luckily, this one guy made time to squeeze me in today for a Brazilian wax”. At the moment when you said that, Fernando was well awake and jumping out of bed. “No! Absolutely not! "Do you hear yourself, Mi amada?” he asked, eyes wide. A part of you was aching to laugh just because of how dead serious he was. 

“Who needs a wax anyway? "I can manage” he shrugs, causing you to snicker. It’s not funny! "He’s going to see you! "Every bit of you! "I can wax you! "I’m your husband!�� He said as you giggled. “Boyfriend.” You corrected. “Soon to be husband! "My point is, you’re laughing, and I’m offering to wax!” He pointed out. “You’re such a drama queen Alonso,” You said. He stood in front of you, silence taking over, who was going to cave in? Only time was capable of telling. 

Now here you are, lying down at home. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into letting you wax me at home,” You said as he shrugged. “I was helping you”, he said as you rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re lucky the world loves you.” He gave a satisfied smile. 

“Happy to help, I’d be a fool to allow another man to touch you. Call it dramatics but you love it.”

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[tracksidebaby]

Who Is She?

Summary: Lewis Hamilton starts soft launching his relationship, only fans are left confused and wanting more as they find nothing about his new girlfriend online.

Requested: Yes / Anon - Requests are open

Instagram /

liked by: lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, yn.ln and 11,792,901 others

scuderiaferrari: Back to the track 👊🏽

username: at the same damn time

| username: so true

yn.ln: can't wait for this one!!!

username: charles and alex 😍

username: wait wait wait whos that girl with lewis?????

| username: probably just some influencer on a brand deal or smth

| username: right we all know lewis doesn't bring girls to the paddock

| username: surely if it was a influencer someone would've found her insta by now?

username: ok but ferrari posting charles and alex and then just soft launching lewis having a gf ???

Instagram /

liked by: charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, lando and 20,792,901 others

lewishamilton: This weekend has been special for many reasons. The car is feeling better this weekend and the garage had an extra special guest. Grateful for everything ❤️

username: he said special guest!!?? who was there??

| username: as far as i know no one was there?? sky sports didn't show anyone in particular in ferrari

| username: between the soft launch posts and ferrari posting lewis and a girl he def has a gf

yn.ln: Such a good weekend!! Thank you for inviting me!!❤️

| lewishamilton: The pleasure was all mine, thank you for being here.

| username: who is this girl??!!

| username: she's completely private I can't find anything about her

| username: no pls we need the detectives on this NOW

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, yn.ln and 12,792,901 others

scuderiaferrari: Lots of work done, let's go again! ❤️

username: a Ferrari win this week please 🙏🏻

username: damn charles looks good

username: im loving ferrari soft launching Lewis' new girl

| username: why am I so invested in this

username: double podium???

| username: in these cars?? girl we're just praying for points on the board

yn.ln: so excited, you've got this!! ❤️

| lewishamilton: Thank you baby ❤️

| username: OH ITS SERIOUS

| username: damn he loves her

Instagram /

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton, carlossainz55, yn.ln and 13,792,901 others

charles_leclerc: Happy with this weekend, let's keep pushing ❤️

username: the whole ferrari team just out here helping lewis soft launch his relationship

username: CHARLOS 😭

yn.ln: An amazing weekend, congrats on p5☺️

| charles_leclerc: thank you, pleasure to have you in the garage 🤍

username: not charles just out here posting every couple on the grid

lewishamilton: We're getting there, great race 💥

| yn.ln: congrats on p4, Lew ❤️

| lewishamilton: Glad you were there to see it love

| username: im so obsessed with this

username: lewis x yn, charles x alex, charles x carlos, he knows what we want

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 1,792,901 others

lewishamilton: Missing my girl this weekend but let's get some points 👊🏽❤️

username: OFFICIAL confirmation !!!!

username: i still thinks its crazy how many pictures we have of her and yet somehow all we know is her name

| username: RIGHT!?! like how has it been months and we literally know nothing about her

| username: honestly im sort of living for the fact that Lewis Hamilton is dating a regular girl that no one knows

username: I don't even know her but I love them so much

yn.ln: Miss you so much

| lewishamilton: Can't wait to be home with you ❤️

YN and Lewis' Texts /

Instagram /

liked by: lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, yn.ln and 17,792,901 others

scuderiaferrari: Reunited in Italy 🇮🇹

username: everyone be quiet we have to analyse Lewis and his new gf

| username: we have NOTHING on her

username: charles and leo im sobbing

username: post a pic of the gf with roscoe 🔪

| username: no bc i need that

Instagram /

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, yn.ln, lewishamilton and 15,792,901 others

charles_leclerc: Not an easy weekend but some good memories made 🤍

username: charles giving us lewis and his gf i love it

username: how are they all so pretty

yn.ln: such a lovely weekend

| charles_leclerc: a pleasure to see you again

alexandrasaintmleux: Such good memories 🤍

| yn.ln: so so nice to see you !!

| alexandrasaintmleux: can't wait to see you for dinner!!

| username: the wags are accepting her as one of them

username: obsessed with charles and alex going on a double date with lewis and his gf

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 21,792,901 others

lewishamilton: It was not the weekend we wanted, obviously we are still working hard on the cars but it's always a dream to have my girl trackside with me.

username: stop he's actually so in love

username: it's so weird seeing him like this

yn.ln: it's always such a joy to watch you race, takes my breath away every time ❤️

| lewishamilton: baby, it's you who is breathtaking. Thank you for being here this weekend 🤍

username: I'm so in love with them

username: they just seem so soft and non toxic

YN and Lewis' Texts /

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: carlossainz55, lewishamilton, yn.ln and 13,792,901 others

lando: brilliant night

username: notice how he didn't comment on the movie lmaooo

username: IS THAT LEWIS' GF WITH LANDO?!?

| username: yeah they fully hard launched last night at the premiere

| username: wait that was their first public outing?? but she's been at the GP's

| username: yeah but nobody has ever seen her in the paddock only the pics the ferrari team post

yn.ln: so so lovely seeing you!!

| lando: always love catching up!

| username: i want these two to be friends

| username: they seemed really close last night

username: another driver giving us yn and lewis content, thank you lando

Instagram /

liked by: lando, yn.ln, charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli and 35,792,901 others

lewishamilton: A dream come true. We have poured so much into this moive. Thank you to the team for trusting me to produce the F1 movie. Thank you to all of the drivers who came to the premiere and thank you to my love, YN. You've been my rock not only during the production of this film but in all aspects of my life and career. You've stood by my rambled ideas, late night doubts and long weekends away. I love you so much and I am so grateful for you everyday.

username: not lewis' post about the premiere of his movie just being a love letter to yn 😭

| username: im acc sobbing its so cute

username: ok but this post just means shes been around so much longer than we all thought

| username: wait no you're so right

yn.ln: My love 😭😭😭 I am so so so overwhelming proud of you. You have poured so much into this movie and watching you work so hard on it fills me with so much love and pride. You're amazing, completely and utterly amazing and I still cannot believe I get to watch you, can't believe I get to call you mine! I love you so so much❤️❤️❤️

| lewishamilton: my love ❤️❤️ I'm the lucky one. Having you by my side makes everything worth it ❤️

| username: i'm crying omg they're so in love

[norristrii]

MCLAREN SWEETHEARTS.

Your and Lando's relationship has everything everyone wants; Moments of you two in the new Drive To Survive season.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. est. relationship, slightly suggestive? Again, this is made up and doesn’t relate to the actual season!

[episode one]

Lando sprinted through the paddock, his race suit slipping dangerously low on his hips as he rushed to the garage, clearly running late. Meanwhile, you strolled leisurely behind, holding all his forgotten essentials—his phone, watch, and whatever else he’d managed to leave behind. There was no point in trying to keep up with his frantic pace.

The cameras caught the moment he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets in a panic. “Fuck, where is my phone?” he muttered, spinning around in confusion.

From a distance, you raised your voice, a hint of amusement in your tone. “I have it!” you called out, holding it up for him to see. His sheepish grin when he spotted you said it all.

“Thank god I have you,” Lando murmured, his voice warm with gratitude. Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a fleeting yet heartfelt gesture that said more than words ever could.

The Netflix editors cut to Carlos as he passed by, saying, “You would lose your own head if you didn't have her.”

[episode two]

Sitting in the McLaren hospitality with Lando's mum, the two of you chatted, stealing occasional glances out the window where Lando was busy giving an interview. He couldn’t help but look over at you both, flashing smiles and waving, his affection clearly shining through.

“Lando, please focus,” the interviewer gently reminded him, attempting to reel him back into the conversation.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lando apologized, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. Then, his expression softened as he gestured toward the window. “The most important women in my life,” he said warmly, pointing at you and his mum, leaving everyone charmed by his sincerity.

The interview clip went viral, fans saying, “Relationship goals.”

[episode three]

It was a relaxed afternoon in McLaren’s motorhome when you managed to—let’s say convince—Lando to try out a TikTok trend with you. The room was filled with laughter as he fumbled through the moves, his determination evident but not exactly successful.

“Lando! Can you do it finally right?!” you called out between bursts of laughter, tears of amusement almost streaming down your face.

“I’m trying, babe! I’m trying!” he replied, his voice desperate yet playful, only making the moment even more hilarious. The lighthearted chaos perfectly captured your bond and the fun you shared, no matter how ridiculous the task at hand.

“You dance like a maniac at parties but can’t handle this?” you teased, your laughter bubbling up again.

“I only dance when I’m drunk!” he shot back, his tone defensive but playful, making the whole situation even funnier.

The editors cut to Oscar laughing at Lando and Zak shaking his head in disbelief.

[episode four]

“Why is under every video an edit of you?!” you asked with a playful smile as you rolled your eyes, holding up your phone to show him the edit of him on your For You page.

Lando glanced at the video, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t mind having me under you last night,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

Your eyes widened instantly, darting between the nearby cameras and him, caught completely off guard by his boldness. The amused look on his face only made it harder to keep your composure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were part of some bizarre social experiment, but reality was far simpler—and far more ridiculous. Lando stood there, grinning like an absolute idiot, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d just caused.

Let’s just say, his PR manager worked overtime after this part dropped.

[episode five]

Lando stood before the mirror, his curls rebelliously framing his face no matter how much he tried to tame them. Frustrated, he let out a growl. “Fuck this shit. They do what they want,” he sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Come here,” you said with a knowing smile, pulling out powder and spray from your bag. With gentle hands, you worked on his hair, smoothing the chaos into something effortlessly charming.

When you were done, he looked at you with a grateful smile. “Thank you, babe,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “You’re my savior.”

The camera captured the moment, his eyes sparkling with quiet admiration as he watched you carefully fix his unruly curls.

[episode six]

Lando crossed the finish line first, securing his first Grand Prix victory. His happiness was uncontainable as he celebrated in the car, his voice alive with joy. Through the radio, he eagerly asked his engineer, “Is Y/n there? I need to talk to her.”

Moments later, your voice came through the earpods under his helmet, full of pride and emotion. “Lan, it’s Y/n here—you did it!!” you exclaimed.

A wide grin spread beneath his helmet as he shouted back, “Y/n, love, we did it!! I love you so much!” His words carried all the excitement and love he felt, making the victory even more unforgettable as he shared it with you.

The radio went viral, all the comments pointing out, “The way she’s the one he needs talk to. God, I want what they have.”

[episode seven]

McLaren had finally done it—the Constructors' Championship was theirs after an incredible 26-year wait. The entire team was overjoyed, the atmosphere electric with celebration.

You were casually chatting with Alex when Lando, buzzing with excitement, ran straight up to you. Without a word, he met your eyes, grinning mischievously, before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Lan—what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, utterly baffled as he carried you through the paddock at full speed.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the jubilant McLaren team. Lando gently put you down, but before you could even process what was happening, the champagne started flying. Laughter and cheers surrounded you as everyone sprayed one another, Lando making it a point to douse you especially. You tried to shield yourself, but there was no escape, and soon you were drenched and sticky, unable to stop laughing at the chaos around you. It was pure, unfiltered joy.

Later on, McLaren and F1 posted the photos of you celebrating together with the team.

[episode eight; bonus]

During an interview for Netflix, Zak was asked, “Y/n is really often at the garage or motorhome since she started dating Lando. What do you think of their relationship?”—a slightly odd question, but Zak handled it with ease.

“Y/n is just a great person,” Zak said, smiling warmly. “I think she’s exactly the one Lando really needs by his side. Everyone loves them; they’re our sweethearts.”

The interviewer followed up, “Would you say Y/n is part of the team?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Zak replied confidently. “She’s part of our papaya family.” His words carried a genuine affection, showing just how much you had become a cherished part of the McLaren circle.

You saw that clip all over social media. It was nice to know they take you like part of the family. By dating McLaren’s golden boy, you became McLaren’s golden girl.

© norristrii 2025

I HIGHLY recommend to check out @haniette <3 Her works are just perfection 🤌🏻

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hiii how are you ?

can I request a dad Charles where his daughter tells everyone that she French instead of Monegasque (just like Arthur) and Charles is just losing it every time she says it

She's Monegasque, not French

It started innocently, as most things with toddlers do.

Charles was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, his three-year-old daughter Yn nestled comfortably in his lap, her tiny hands clutching a crayon-streaked drawing of what she insisted was “Papa’s race car.” The sun was bright, the paddock buzzing with media and mechanics and laughter as the summer European leg of the season carried on in full swing.

And then it happened.

“Papa,” she said sweetly, tilting her head up at him, eyes wide and so heartbreakingly sincere, “I’m French.”

Charles blinked.

“Quoi?” he said, pulling back slightly, eyebrows lifting in gentle confusion. “Ma chérie, no, you’re not French. You’re Monegasque, like Papa.”

Yn looked at him, lips pursed, deep in thought. And then she gave a little shrug. “Non. I’m French, like Uncle Thur.”

Charles groaned softly and let his head fall back against the couch. “Not this again.”

From across the room, Arthur—lounging lazily in a chair, eating grapes like he was Caesar in a past life—choked on his laughter.

“I didn’t teach her that,” Arthur said through wheezes. “She came up with it on her own. Genius, really.”

“You encourage it!” Charles accused, pointing an indignant finger at his younger brother. “You always say you’re French!”

“Well, I am French,” Arthur said with a grin. “Monegasque passport and everything. And clearly, Yn has excellent taste.”

“Excellent taste in traitors. And Monaco is not France,” Charles muttered, pulling Yn closer as if cuddling her tightly would somehow absorb her back into Monegasque pride.

But it didn’t stop there.

No, Yn had decided. French it was.

She told the Ferrari PR team she was French when they asked where she was from. She announced it proudly to the camera when someone tried to film a cute moment with her and her dad. She whispered it solemnly to Carlos while sitting in his lap eating strawberries.

“Papa’s sad ‘cause I’m French,” she told Carlos.

Carlos, eyes sparkling with mischief, leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s okay, Princesa. I’m Spanish, and he still talks to me.”

“Does he love you?” Yn asked, dead serious.

Carlos blinked. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then maybe he’ll still love me even if I’m French.”

Behind them, Charles face-palmed.

The drivers got wind of it quickly—because of course they did.

By the next day, the jokes were relentless.

“So,” Lando said at breakfast in the hotel, stirring sugar into his coffee like he was preparing to deliver a monologue. “Do I address her as ‘Mademoiselle Yn’ now or...?”

“She’s not French,” Charles groaned.

“She told my engineer she wants her birthday cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower,” Max deadpanned, walking by and tossing Charles a sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

Even Seb, who was visiting that weekend with his kids, gave Charles a comforting pat on the back. “At least she’s not saying she’s German. Yet.”

And then there was Esteban.

“Oh, this is fantastique,” Esteban beamed, scooping Yn up in the paddock one afternoon. “You’re French, just like me!”

Yn squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “Oui!”

Charles practically melted into the tarmac. “Mon dieu…”

But it was Arthur who reveled in it most.

He started wearing a beret. A beret, for god’s sake.

One afternoon in the hospitality tent, he presented Yn with a baguette and a small fake mustache. “For my fellow French citizen,” he declared proudly.

“Merci, Uncle Thur!” Yn beamed, sticking the mustache crookedly on her nose.

“I am living in a cartoon,” Charles mumbled into his hands.

No amount of explaining helped.

“But Monaco is in France,” she argued one night while Charles tucked her into bed in the team’s motorhome. “It’s right there.”

“No, chérie,” Charles said gently, brushing her curls back. “It’s close, but it’s its own country. Like Papa said before, remember?”

“I like France better.”

He sighed and tried the next best tactic: bribery.

“If you say you’re Monegasque again,” he whispered conspiratorially, “Papa will buy you ten ice creams tomorrow.”

Yn narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What kind?”

“Any kind. Strawberry. Chocolate. All of them.”

“Hmm…” she tapped her chin with exaggerated thought. “I still wanna be French.”

He clutched his chest. “Traitor.”

The situation hit a new peak during the Saturday driver briefing. Yn, accompanied by Carlos and Charles, had been allowed to come along briefly before things got official. She toddled in wearing sunglasses way too big for her face and a little Ferrari cap.

Yuki crouched down to her level with a big smile. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Yn.”

“I’m French!” she declared proudly, striking a pose.

Yuki laughed. “That’s so cool! Then you must know that Uncle Pierre is also French!”

Yn froze.

All the drivers went still.

Charles raised his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

Yn’s nose scrunched up.

“…Uncle Pierre?”

“Yes,” Yuki chirped, unaware he was about to break the world’s most stubborn three-year-old. “He’s very French. Like super French.”

The silence that followed could have swallowed a pit lane.

Charles watched her face shift—concentration, confusion… and then determination.

She took off her sunglasses, turned to her father, and declared solemnly, “Papa. I’m not French anymore.”

Charles blinked. “You’re not?”

“I’m Monegasque now.”

“...Why?”

She folded her arms. “I don’t wanna be the same as Uncle Pierre.”

“WHAT?!” Pierre shouted from across the room, utterly betrayed.

Arthur was on the floor, laughing so hard he nearly cried. “Nooo! The French alliance has fallen!”

Carlos, barely holding it together, whispered, “Monaco wins.”

Charles scooped Yn up with the biggest grin he’d worn in days. “You have made Papa so proud.”

Yn patted his cheek. “Do I still get ice cream?”

He laughed, hugging her tight. “You can have all the ice cream you want, mon amour.”

Behind him, Pierre was muttering in disbelief, “What did I do? What did I do?”

And from that day on, Yn was proudly, defiantly, loyally Monegasque.

Until next week, when she decided she wanted to be Italian because “Papa’s car is red like Italy.”

And Charles just sighed into his espresso.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[formula1andbeyond]

Favourite colour - Carlos Sainz Jr

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x PiastriSister!reader

Summary: You are Oscar Piastri’s older sister, who decided to wear blue to a race. Carlos Sainz accidentally mistakes you for a Williams crew member. Hilarity ensues.

Wordcount: Smau (aka no idea)

Warnings: None, I think? It's just fluff

A/N: Just as I finished this, half of it disappeared. So idk if the plot makes sense now. I tried to fix it, but couldn't remember everything so (I cried. Smau's takes way to much time)... If your name really is Katherine… use your imagination please hahaha. Also, I know there are more Piastri sisters, but I only use Hattie because I am lazy. Timeline? Don’t know her. Don’t think about it hahaha

...

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Liked by NicolePiastri, OscarPiastri and others

Y/nPiastri: Outfit so good, Carlos Sainz though he was my boss🕶️

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User738: GIRL🤤

User43: Slay mama

User76: So, let me get this straight, Carlos thought you were someone who works at Williams racing, just because you’re wearing blue…? (Liked by Y/nPiastri)

Y/nPiastri: @/user76 he claims we look alike🙄

Lilymhe: This is hilarious🤣🤣🤣

HattiePiastri: Mom is too busy laughing to comment

NicolePiastri: I am not. You look beautiful honey, but that shirt... Carlos is excused.

User34: Not Nicole Piastri favouring Carlos over her oldest child hahahah

NicolePiastri: @/user34 I am a Carlos Sainz fan first, mother second🤭

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Liked by CarlosSainz, NicolePiastri and others

OscarPiastri: Happy birthday to my amazing sister, Katherine. You’re a mess. Love you❤️

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Y/nPiastri: Shut up, i hate you.

Y/nPiastri: No, im sorry. I dont hate you. Thank you little brother❤️ Love you too🥰

User334: OMG Carlos liked this hahahaha

HattiePiastri: Happy birthday queen! 🥳🥳🥳

User34: Not Carlos in the likes!

User29: I thought her name was y/n???

User99: Oh, my sweet summers child hahahaha

User56: Fumbled so hard he had to stalk her brothers insta.

CarlosSainz: Williams blue is a good look🧢

User3: CARLOS! I AM GAGGED

HattiePiastri: This feels inapropriate...

Y/nPiastri: I just happen to LIKE BLUEEE😭😭😭

...

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Liked by Mclaren, HattiePiastri and others

Y/nPiastri: Making sure no one thinks I work for them this time📙🥕🧡

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User19: A MAN?!?!?

lilyzneimer: Beautiful🧡🧡🧡

HattiePiastri: So just so we agree, I will be borrowing that Hermes bag🥰

Y/nPiastri: In your god damn diggity daggity dreams little child🔪 HattiePiastri: So what I'm hearing is a maybe...?

CarlosSainz: You look better in blue🫐

user500: Horny on main I see...👀 user45: MR SAINZ!😂

User58: Don't think you can hide him away in the last photo. Who is the guy?????🔍

User30: WIld idea, but what if that is Carlos? That would be such a hilarious turn around🤔

User38: @/user30 I like your delulu User77: No, but she might have a point. He's been commenting on all posts about her. And he's always in the likes... User30: OMG I'm not alone in my delulu!!!

…

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Liked by user49, user284 and others

F1updates: Carlos Sainz was spotted on a walk in Barcelona hand in hand with Oscar Piastri's older sister, Y/n!🤯🤯🤯

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User1: THIS IS GOLD

User94: What is thiiiiisssss

User301: Did not see this coming🤔

User48: They are so stunning😍😍😍

User795: She is wearing THAT shirt!!!👕

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Liked by CarlosSainz, NicolePiastri and others

Y/nPiastri: Hard to say no when blue is my favourite colour💙

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CarlosSainz: It really is your colour🦋

Lilymhe: Alex claims he figured it out weeks ago

Y/nPiastri: Girl, I didn't even know weeks ago hahaha

HattiePiastri: I knew you couldn't afford that hermes bag on your own😶🕵️‍♀️

NicolePiastri: Best day of my life❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lilyznimer: Congrats you two! Oscar is slowly loosing his mind looking at this

User355: Nicole Piastri must be loosing her marbles!!!

NicolePiastri: Haven't stopped crying since she told me

User94: GOALS🥅🏁

user89: This is the old money blueprint

User30: The most stunning couple😍

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BONUS:

Liked by CarlosSainz, OscarPiastri and others

Y/nPiastri: Finally got to meet Katherine from Williams Marketing!

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HattiePiastri: Oh, I think Carlos might be excused...🔍

NicolePiastri: Didn't know I had yet another daughter...

User16: This is actually hilarious

User55: Now I feel bad for making fun of Carlos

Lando: What do you mean. This is the same person???🥸

CarlosSainz: I can tell the difference now, mi amor💙

OscarPiastri: You can? Because I'm actually struggling

Y/nPiastri: OSCAR DON'T RUIN THE MOMENT

[formulafanfics13]

hiya hon, i have a request if it’s ok!!!

reader (charles girlfriend) doesn’t usually wear clothes that are “too revealing”, but for a dinner with drivers and wags she wears a dress that highlight her curves. everyone is pleasantly surprised and the wags start commenting unhinged stuff like “if i had your tits i’d dress like that everyday”, “they sit so well”, “are they natural? in the best way possible, they look fake” and then as reader’s breasts become the main topic, charles just wants to disappear from earth

the girls are girl-ing - F1 WAGS (CL16)

Masterlist

summary: you don’t usually wear outfits that show much. modest dresses, comfy jeans, oversized everything. but tonight, for the paddock’s favourite WAG + driver dinner, you pull out a body-hugging, curve-kissing, absolutely illegal dress. the room goes feral. the girls are obsessed. the men are useless. and poor charles? absolutely wants to die when your tits become the hot topic of the night.

warnings: light smut themes (titty praise), unhinged girl talk, reader’s breasts are the center of attention, f1 wag chaos (kika, rebecca, carmen, kelly, etc.), charles dying of embarrassment, reader is hot and everyone knows it, cursing, wine-fuelled praise, no actual smut

charles should’ve known the second you stepped out of the hotel room. the dress was black. clingy. strapless. it hugged your waist like a secret, dipped perfectly at the back, and made your boobs look like a gift to mankind. you’d turned to him with a soft smile, done nothing but say, “ready?”

he hadn’t answered. just blinked. swallowed. nodded too fast.

now you were seated between kika and rebecca at the long table in the private lounge of a monaco restaurant, the room buzzing with laughter, waiters, espresso martinis and tiny gold forks — and charles was suffering. because ten minutes into starters, someone said it.

“okay but wait,” rebecca said, squinting slightly as she leaned closer, wine glass in hand. “why the fuck have you been hiding that body?”

you blinked. “what?”

“this dress,” kika nodded with the force of a woman possessed. “this dress is everything.”

carmen leaned in from across the table. “i’ve never even seen you wear a crop top, and now you’re just out here with those?”

“what?” you laughed. “they’re just-”

“GIRL,” kelly interrupted, clutching her drink like a relic. “they’re not just anything. they sit so fucking well.”

charles made a strangled sound. you turned to him sweetly. he smiled like a man in pain.

“they do though,” kika added. “perfectly round. symmetrical. like a sculpture.”

“are they real?” carmen asked, totally seriously. “not judging. just curious. they look too good.”

charles buried his face in his hands.

“they’re real,” you said shyly.

“in the best way possible they look fake,” rebecca beamed. “like… designer tits.”

“haute couture boobs.”

“if i had those,” kelly sighed, “i’d never wear a bra again. ever.”

“if i had those,” kika added, “i’d walk around in sheer tops and demand world peace via cleavage.”

at this point, all the boys were slowly catching on. lewis was smirking. lando was trying not to look at charles. george looked terrified. max kept sipping his drink like he was in a nature documentary. and charles? charles had aged ten years.

“you okay, baby?” you asked innocently.

he nodded without looking up.

“mhm.”

“he’s dying,” pierre said under his breath.

“he’s literally vibrating with stress,” carlos added.

“he should be proud,” kika said firmly. “he’s dating the most stacked girl at this table.”

“no but actually,” carmen added, reaching across to gently lift your necklace. “this cleavage is doing everything it needs to do. it’s giving sex and grace. marilyn monroe realness.”

you were fully blushing now, hiding your face in your hands. charles grabbed his wine and downed it. then muttered, “i can’t believe we’re talking about her tits in front of everyone.”

kelly grinned. “babe, you’re dating the tits.”

lando nearly choked on breadsticks. carlos had to leave the table. and charles? charles stood up and kissed your cheek and whispered, “you’re wearing that again later. with nothing under it. because if everyone else gets to admire them, i get to keep them to myself later.”

you just grinned. because damn right he does.

[inkandapex]

tides of change

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : Lando and Y/N’s not so situationship had become the talk of everyone around them. It was clear to everyone but the two of them that their connection was something worth fighting for. The question on everyone’s lips: When will Lando finally stop holding back and risk it all?

Words : 4.1k

Warnings : swearing, mentions of sex, poorly translated french

It was a rainy day in Monaco, the kind of weather that made everything feel a little slower. The usual buzz of the city was muffled by the constant drizzle, and the three friends—Lando, Max, and Charles—found themselves on a paddle court, looking for a way to pass the time during their break.

Sweaty and winded from their last round, the trio stood around, sipping on drinks, exchanging small talk about the upcoming season. Max, ever the competitive one, wiped his brow with a towel, giving Lando a smirk. "I think you might be getting worse, mate."

Charles finally looks up from his phone after being preoccupied for the past few minutes. "Lando, Y/N is here?"

"Yeah, she got in last morning. Why?" Lando nods, still catching his breath from the last game.

Charles grins and pockets his phone. "Alex just texted me—she just found out today. You should invite her to join us on the yacht. It's supposed to be a clear day tomorrow."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Who else is coming?"

"Couple of other friends, Carlos and Rebecca too."

Lando smirks, glancing over at Max. "Max?"

"Nah, mate," Max chimes in, wiping his face with a towel. "Don't think being out at sea would help with Kelly's morning sickness." He laughs lightly, clearly trying to keep the mood light, but there’s a genuine care in his tone.

Lando’s grin softens, and he nods. "Fair enough. I’ll let Y/N know then."

"Speaking of which... what's ugh, going on with you two? Finally asked her out?" Max smirks, leaning back against the wall.

A small smirk crept up on Lando’s face, but he quickly took a swig from his bottle, picking up his racket as if the question never happened. "Are we playing another round or what?"

"Well, that’s a clear no," Charles laughs, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "You idiot, how long has this situationship been a thing for now? Two seasons?"

Lando freezes for a second, then points a finger at Max. "First of all, don’t ever use ‘situationship’ again. Sounds weird coming from you." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And... we’re just friends."

Charles snickers. "Friends who kiss every now and then—"

Max jumps in. "And sleep together."

Lando's eyes widen slightly. "Hey, that’s not—"

"So you haven’t?" Max presses, his grin growing.

Lando bites his lip, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. He glances at Charles, who’s trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, they definitely have," Charles chimes in, his voice teasing.

Lando glares at them, but it’s no use—he can’t help the flush creeping up his neck. "Alright, alright, enough."

"I've had a couple of friends ask me about her, mate." Charles pats Lando’s shoulder before casually walking back to his side of the court. "Come on, one more before we head home."

Lando blinks. "Wha— Which friends?" His grip tightens slightly on his racket, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Charles exchanges a knowing look with Max, the kind that screams look at this idiot, so oblivious. Max just smirks.

"Doesn't matter who" Charles shrugs, stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. "Just thought I’d let you know. Do with the information as you will."

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning slightly. His mind is already racing through the possibilities, but before he can press further, Max serves the ball, forcing him to refocus.

But even as they dive back into the game, the thought lingers.

------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Lando's keys hitting the table broke Y/N's gaze from the screen in front of her. She glanced over to see him standing by the door, bag still slung over his shoulder, hair slightly damp from a mix of sweat and rain.

"How was paddle with Max and Charles?" she asked, shifting her focus back to the movie playing in front of her.

"Good. Max lost, of course." Lando smirked, toeing off his shoes before flopping down beside her. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "Hey, uhm— you busy tomorrow?"

"Mmm, not really. Kinda wanted to walk around and shop for a bit. Why, what's up?"

Lando ran a hand through his damp curls. "Charles is inviting us on his yacht tomorrow with Alex and a couple of their friends. Carlos and Rebecca are coming too, I heard."

Y/N hummed in thought, eyes still on the screen, but Lando barely noticed. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he forced himself to sound casual. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous—he was just inviting his best friend to hang out with their other friends. They all knew each other already.

So why did it feel like something more?

"Sure, yeah, that actually sounds fun. Haven’t seen them in a while," Y/N said, shooting Lando a soft smile.

Relieved, Lando let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He barely had time to react before Y/N’s fingers slid through his damp curls, her touch light and familiar.

"You should shower," she murmured. "You’re gonna get sick."

Lando smirked, tilting his head just enough to press a featherlight kiss to her wrist. "Join me?"

Y/N laughed, gently but firmly pushing his head away. "Dork. We both said no more, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah… I tried," he chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. As he passed, he reached down to poke her cheek, grinning when she swatted at his hand.

It was true—what Charles and Max suspected. They’d kissed. And, yeah, they’d definitely slept together. More than once. But somewhere along the way, between shared hotel rooms, late-night confessions, and stolen moments, they both agreed that this—whatever this was—couldn’t be more. Not now. Not when Lando was constantly on the move, when their friendship was the one thing they both swore they’d never risk.

So they stayed just that—friends.

At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Cabrón! It's been too long! Have you grown taller?" Carlos' voice rang out, loud enough to make nearly everyone aboard the yacht turn their heads.

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he walked over. "You muppet, I saw you last week." He pulled Carlos into a quick hug before stepping back and motioning toward Y/N, who stood just behind him. "Look who I brought."

Carlos' face lit up. "Ahh… mi novia’s novia. Good to see you, Y/N." Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her slightly for dramatic effect.

Before she could fully recover, Charles appeared beside them, grinning as he leaned in to greet her with a cheek kiss. "She's also my girlfriend’s girlfriend," he added, giving Lando a teasing look.

"Y/N is the nation's girlfriend," Carlos announced, laughing as he patted her shoulder. Then, with a wicked smirk, he leaned toward Lando, lowering his voice just enough.

"Except yours."

Lando rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, but the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him. Carlos just smirked wider.

"Too much testosterone. Where are my ladies?" Y/N teased, glancing around the deck in search of her friends.

"Oh, they're inside getting changed," Charles said, nodding toward the doors leading into the yacht.

"Perfect. I’ll see you boys later then." She gave them a small wave before heading off, disappearing through the doors with an easy grace.

Lando’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, something he wasn’t even aware of until he heard the soft chuckles beside him. He turned to find Carlos and Charles exchanging a knowing look before shaking their heads in amusement.

"What now?" Lando sighed, already bracing himself.

"I just don’t get it," Charles said, crossing his arms. "I really don’t."

"Get what?"

Carlos exhaled dramatically, giving Lando a pointed look. "Why you like punishing yourself like this. Like a fucking sadist."

Charles nodded in agreement. "You clearly like each other."

Lando shook his head, sliding his sunglasses on as if they could shield him from the conversation. "Not that simple."

"Oh, but it is," Carlos countered, arms crossed. "It’s not like you haven’t been in a relationship before, so I know for a fact it’s not commitment issues on your end."

Charles tilted his head. "She doesn’t want to?"

"It’s not that." Lando exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It just… doesn’t work. We've tried"

Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Tried what, exactly?"

Lando hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. "Just the whole distance thing. Me being away all the time. And then there’s the hate she’s gonna get when people find out. I can’t do that to her." His voice was quieter now, but firm. "She’s already getting shit just for being friends with me."

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look, their teasing fading into something more serious. For all the jokes, they knew Lando wasn’t just making excuses. But still, Carlos shook his head with a sigh.

"You know, if you ever stop being an idiot, I think she’d be worth it."

Lando huffed a small, almost bitter laugh. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

"If not, I mean, I got friends that are interested," Charles shrugged, all casual, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Lando chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness in his voice. "See, you keep saying that, but I think you're just doing it to provoke me."

Charles smirked but stayed silent.

Carlos, however, turned to him with a knowing look. "Who? Luca?"

Charles' brows lifted in surprise before he gave Carlos an approving nod. "Yeah."

Lando’s expression shifted in an instant. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the way his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck is Luca?"

"Like I said… a friend," Charles smirked, enjoying this way too much.

"Don’t fuck with me right now, Leclerc." Lando’s head snapped around as he scanned the yacht, shoulders growing visibly tense. "He’s here?"

Carlos chuckled, clapping a hand on Lando’s back. "Calm down, cabrón. Y/N is available, no?"

Lando shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. "You two are dicks."

Charles and Carlos only laughed, sharing a look before Carlos added, "Just saying, if you don’t want her to be, maybe do something about it."

-----------------------------------------------------------

The yacht had sailed further into the open ocean, the hours melting away in a blur of sun, salt, and laughter. Everyone had split into their own little group, swimming, chatting, drinking. But as lunchtime rolled around, they all gathered around the spread of food laid out on deck.

Y/N sat at a smaller table in the corner with Rebecca and Alex, the three of them deep in conversation. Lando strolled over, wordlessly setting a small pouch in front of her along with a glass of water.

"Medicine’s in there. Take one, okay?" He gave her head a light pat before turning on his heel and walking off to grab some food for himself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rebecca and Alex exchanged confused looks, both raising an eyebrow as they glanced between Y/N and the small pouch Lando had left behind. Neither of them knew what he meant by "medicine," and the whole exchange seemed a bit mysterious.

Y/N noticed their concerned gazes and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She pulled out a row of antihistamine pills from the pouch, holding them up. "Sometimes shellfish makes my allergies act up. It’s really nothing too serious, but it’s better not to risk it."

Alex’s expression softened in understanding, though she still looked a little taken aback. "Ah, makes sense," she nodded, her voice light "And of course... Lando is on top of it"

Rebecca let's out a soft laugh as she shakes her head "You're just as oblivious as he is you know, it's cute and funny at the same time"

"Guys... come on. We agreed to not talk about this"

Rebecca nods and holds her hands up in surrender "Mhmm alright, we'll let you figure it out on your own"

"What are you girls gossiping about this time huh?" Carlos walks over with Lando and Charles, plates of food and drinks in hand as their took their respective seats around the table

"Nothing you boys need to worry about," Alex smiles.

"Ah, donc rien à voir avec le fait que quelqu'un nie ses vrais sentiments pour quelqu'un, hein ?" Charles tilts his head, looking over at Y/N as he takes a bite of his food (Ah, so it has nothing to do with anyone denying their true feelings for someone, huh?)

"Espèce de bâtard sournois, Alex t'en a parlé ?" Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes flicking between the two of them. (You sneaky bastard, did Alex tell you?)

"Non ! Je jure que je n'ai rien dit !" Alex quickly defended herself. (No! I swear I didn't say anything!)

"S'il vous plaît, c'est tellement évident. Je pense que tout le monde peut le dire rien qu'en vous regardant tous les deux," Charles smirked, making Alex chuckle beside him as she nodded her head in agreement, while the rest of the table fell into conversations of their own. (Please, it's so obvious. I think everyone can tell just by looking at the two of you)

"Il a pété un câble quand je lui ai dit qu’un pote était intéressé par toi. Tu sais que les potes normaux réagissent pas comme ça, hein ?" Charles goes on, raising an eyebrow as he watches Y/N’s reaction. (He freaked out when I told him a friend was interested in you. You know normal friends don't react like that, right?)

Y/N simply shakes her head and continues to eat, it wasn't until Charles continues to egg on his theory

"Il ne comprend pas un mot de ce que je dis, mais regarde ça." Charles straightens up, a mischievous glint in his eyes as if preparing to prove a point. "Tout ce que j’ai à faire, c’est dire le nom de Luca, et ça attire son attention." (He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but look at this.) (All I have to do is say Luca's name, and it gets his attention)

Right on cue, Lando’s head whips around, his conversation forgotten as his ears latch onto the familiar name. Confusion flickers across his face, caught completely off guard by the sudden mention.

"Dickhead" Y/N mutters with a laugh, shaking her head as she stands up, plate in hand, and makes her way toward the buffet table for more food.

Lando is on his feet almost instantly, trailing after her without a second thought. Whatever she and Charles were talking about, he needs to know.

"So, he told you about Luca, huh?" Lando leans against the table, arms crossed as he watches her pick through the food. His voice is casual—too casual.

Y/N sighs, shaking her head. Charles really wasn’t exaggerating. Of course Lando took the bait. "Lan, he was just fucking with you."

His eyes narrow slightly. "So you're not at all interested in this Luca guy?"

She pauses, glancing at him with a teasing smirk. "What if I was?"

Lando blinks at her, completely dumbfounded. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as he tries to process what he just heard. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shrugs, casually placing a piece of food on her plate. "What if I was interested? What’s it to you?" She glances at him, eyes challenging. "Like you said, we’re just friends, remember?"

His stomach twists uncomfortably. That is what he said. But suddenly, he’s not so sure he meant it.

Y/N simply tuts, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she brushes past him. As she does, her fingers trail lightly along his arm, the touch barely there but enough to send a spark straight through him.

"Just something to think about," she murmurs before walking away, leaving Lando standing there—plate forgotten, mind racing, and heart pounding just a little too fast.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lando lounged on a sunbed, sunglasses on, deep in conversation with Carlos when Rebecca’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Looking good, Y/N! That set is gorgeous on you!”

Mid-sentence, Lando sat up slightly, resting on his elbows as his gaze searched for her.

And then he saw her.

Not just in any bikini—no, a papaya one. His colour. He almost swore she wore it just for him.

Lando barely had time to recover from the way Y/N’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine before she sat beside him, all sweet smiles and knowing eyes. He saw right through her. She was playing with him, enjoying the way she had him wrapped around her finger.

And damn, was it working.

Before he could say anything, Charles strolled by, some guy trailing behind him.

“Y/N, this is my friend Luca. He’s been asking non-stop about you. Thought it was time I introduce the two of you.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, fingers twitching against the sunbed. You have got to be kidding me.

Y/N stood to greet Luca, and the guy wasted no time leaning in for a cheek kiss. Normally, Lando wouldn’t care—his friends did it all the time. But this? Some random guy he didn’t know? Absolutely not.

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard such great things,” Luca said with a grin. “I see you around a lot, just… not with the right team.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

Y/N laughed. “Ah, yeah! I’ve seen you with Charles and Alex a few times.”

“So how long are you in Monaco this time? For good, I hope?”

“I wish. This place is amazing, but I have to go back to England next week—work calls. I’ll be back by the end of the month, though.”

Luca smiled. “Then we have some time to go out before you leave?”

Lando sat up fully, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. Was this some kind of sick joke? Asking her out—right in front of him? His blood boiled.

No. Absolutely not.

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “Actually, no, we’re busy. Got plans this week.”

Carlos, instantly catching on, barely held in his laughter—though his girlfriend didn’t bother hiding her amusement, giving him a light slap on the arm.

Y/N turned to Lando, eyebrows raised. “We do?”

“Yep,” he answered smoothly, leaning back like he hadn’t just pulled that excuse out of thin air. “Max and P are coming over to stay with us, remember? Got some activities lined up. Sorry, mate.”

The only problem? Now he actually had to find things to do and start booking these non-existent activities.

Luca frowned slightly. “Oh—well… when you come back from England, then?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N started, “I’ll ask Charles for your—”

“Naaah,” Lando cut in again, shaking his head. “Doesn’t work either, mate. We’re heading to Italy when she gets back.”

Y/N blinked. “We are?”

“Yes. Was supposed to be a surprise. Surprise!” Lando shot her a grin, ignoring the way Carlos was now openly laughing beside him.

Just off to the side, Charles leaned toward Alex, voice low. "S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi le sortir de sa misère." (Please let me put him out of his misery.)

Luca could only laugh, shaking his head as he held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, got it, mate. All yours.”

Lando didn’t bother hiding his smirk, satisfied with the outcome.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, dragging Lando toward a quieter part of the yacht, away from prying eyes. His smug smirk only made her more irritated.

“What the fuck was that, Norris?” she snapped, arms crossed.

Lando barely flinched, still grinning. “What, you don’t wanna go to Italy? Greece more your style? Oh! How about Ibiza—”

She didn’t let him finish, landing a solid punch to his arm.

“Ow!” Lando winced, clutching his arm. “Forgot how strong you are.”

“Stop playing with me. I know there’s no Italy trip.”

“There is!”

“Bullshit.”

He exhaled, dropping the act. “Fine! I just… You can’t go out with him, Y/N.”

Her expression softened for a moment before tilting her head, arms still crossed. “And why’s that?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, avoiding her gaze for a second before finally meeting her eyes.

“That’s so unfair, Lando, and you know it,” Y/N shot back, arms tightening over her chest. “You’ve gone out with other girls, and you didn’t hear shit from me.”

“No—that’s different,” Lando argued, shaking his head.

“Oh, it is different,” she scoffed. “Because I haven’t been sleeping around with other people since what happened between us.”

His eyes widened. “But I haven’t!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit—do you want me to drop names?”

Lando opened his mouth, then shut it just as fast. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Alright, fine.”

“Doesn’t mean I have feelings for them,” he added quickly, voice softer this time.

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Awe, how fucking romantic.”

Lando felt his stomach drop. The teasing, the back-and-forth—it all came to a screeching halt the second Y/N let her emotions slip through.

She sank onto the sofa, fingers threading through her hair, exhaling like she was tired—tired of him, tired of this.

“We can’t keep doing this, Lan,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “This whole ordeal is fucking exhausting. If you really want this, you can have me. But you can’t just want some of it. Take all of it. The good and the bad.”

She finally looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “I can’t stand having just some of you. I need all of you.”

Lando swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs. Because the truth was, she already had all of him. Always had. He just needed to say it.

Lando dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gently finding hers, squeezing them with a tenderness that spoke louder than words ever could.

“Hey… pretty girl, look at me, please?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, her gaze met his. The rawness in his eyes caught her off guard. For the first time in a long while, she saw him again—the guy she fell so deeply in love with, the man she’d been willing to risk everything for.

“You have all of me,” Lando said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I promise… we’ll make it work. I’ll make this work. You deserve the world, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you... if you’d give me another chance.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but a quiet part of her still hesitated. It felt too good to be true. But his words… his honesty? It was enough to break through.

Y/N took a slow breath, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. There was none.

Slowly, she squeezed his hands back. “You better not make me regret this, Lando.”

Lando nodded almost immediately, his eyes lighting up with a joy so pure it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “I promise,” he said, voice full of conviction. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll do things right this time.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her emotions swirling as she processed his words. After a beat, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

Without another word, Lando pulled her into his arms, locking her in a tight embrace. The way he held her felt urgent, like he was afraid of losing her again. They clung to each other as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if nothing mattered but this moment.

“I know we said to take things slow… but I’m dying to kiss you right now,” Lando murmured against her neck, his breath warm and shaky.

The words made Y/N laugh softly, her fingers tracing the side of his jaw as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs gently grazing his skin, before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, a kiss that held all the passion, all the longing they’d kept buried. The world outside disappeared as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss a promise of what was to come.

Lando was the first to pull away, chuckling softly as he did. “We can’t… I don’t think I can control myself if we keep going.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her heart racing from the kiss. She placed one last soft kiss on his cheek before pulling him back into another hug, as if holding him was the only thing that could steady her.

"Greece sounds good..." she muttered quietly, her words almost lost in the moment.

Lando pulled away slightly, brows furrowed as he looked at her, not quite catching what she said. “What was that, baby?”

“Greece,” Y/N repeated with a smile tugging at her lips. “I said Greece sounds good.”

Lando’s face lit up with a grin, the tension in his chest easing as he nodded. “Greece it is. Anything for my girl.”

[norrisainz33]

foodie || platonic grid

☆ summary: f1 it girl runs popular influencer account but no one knows until a certain netflix series reveals her secret

☆ pairing: driver!reader x platonic grid

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Essentia Ristorante

liked by ynuser, lando, yukitsunoda0511, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, and 1,345,294 others

formulafoodie: ciao dall'italia! having the best time here in italy as always. lucky me got to enjoy some of the best pasta in the whole world (don’t tell my trainer) at Essentia! feeling spoiled! [hello from italy!]

view all comments

user1: on god that looks delicious

user2: can’t tell ur trainer if we have no clue which one of you this is

user4: my bets are still on yuki! he’s the grid foodie through and through

user6: idk i don’t really get yuki vibes from these posts. i feel like it’s gotta be y/n, alex or carlos

user2: oh i could see it being y/n/n. she has posted some stories that do look very similar to the places formulafoodie has been

lando: @ whoever runs this account - where was my invite?! [liked by ynuser & charlesleclerc]

user6: well user2, looks like we can rule out lando

user3: wake up babe! fav influencer just posted

f1: yum! 😋

user4: bookmarked this restaurant as if i’ll ever go to italy

ynuser has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, carlossainz55, lando, astonmartinf1, lance_stroll and 897,375 others

ynuser: monza! grazie for the point! wasn’t an easy one but at least italy always spoils me. oh and congrats charlesleclerc 🤍

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user3: felt your aura from 5 scrolls away

lance_stroll: points points points

ynuser: points 🗣️

user12: we love y/n points in this house

charlesleclerc: merci y/n/n ❤️

ynuser: well deserved my friend 🥰

astonmartinf1: monza! thanks for being good to our girl

user6: hmmm a certain influencer also said they felt spoiled in italy… coincidence? 🤨

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n amore mio [y/n my love]

ynuser: alex 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

user33: forever gagged by how beautiful and talented you are

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Willow Restaurant

liked by f1, alex_albon, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, oscarpiastri, ynuser and 1,973,356 others

formulafoodie: singapore!! the food here absolutely never disappoints. thanks for having me willow

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user2: quick f1gossip did you catch any of the drivers at willow???

f1gossip: we got no reports of any drivers spotted at willow! y/n, lance, and esteban were spotted out for drinks not too far from this restaurant though!

f1: looks delicious!

user4: def not lando with all that shrimp

lando: you got that right

user4: LANDOBSJV

netflix: delectable

user3: netflix what are you doing here

formulafoodie: it certainly was 😉

user6: wait wait wait this has to mean something. formulafoodie never responds to comments

oscarpiastri: great! now i know where to grab dinner

user8: omg the last slide 🤤

user22: another fire post mr tsunoda

formulafoodie has made a post 📍 la barbecue

liked by danielriccardo, ynuser, estebanocon, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri, netflix, astonmartinf1

formulafoodie: everything is in fact bigger (and better) in texas. labarbecuetexas you made the best bbq i’ve ever been blessed to eat!! thank you for having me 😩🤍

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user4: my mouth is watering

lando: again here asking where my invite was???

user14: omg omg i’m going here for dinner tonight

danielriccardo: knew you’d love it 💙 [liked by formulafoodie]

user6: WAIT DANNY KNOWS WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT?!

netflix: 🤤 us looking at these photos [liked by formulafoodie]

f1gossip: for those wondering - closest driver sightings to this restaurant was y/n, pierre and yuki out at a cowboy hat shop which reportedly has the same sign as the second slide 👀

user6: omgomgomgomg

user21: it’s yuki confirmed

user31: no wayyyyyy

user12: gonna have to get myself to an authentic bbq place asap

user19: whenever i need a recommendation for where to eat i come to this page

ynuser has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, lance_stroll, estebanocon, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and 1,023,459 others

ynuser: in another life, i rode horses instead of driving cars. thanks for the love, the points and the barbecue austin! 🤍🏎️

view all comments

danielriccardo: 💙

ynuser: 🤍

user13: i almost started barking

lhughes_06: any chance you want to come to a hockey game while you’re in the us?

jackhughes: have i not taught you nothing?! [liked by ynuser]

_quinnhughes: this was the best line you’ve got luke? [liked by ynuser]

ynuser: i could be persuaded 🤭 though when am i going to see one of you three at a race?

user43: i have no one to talk about this with

user55: HI [louder than everyone else]

iamrebeccad: gorgeous 🥰

ynuser: love you honey 😘

user98: she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s the fastest girl in the race

user83: consistently proud of you for dragging that tractor into the points

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Broadway

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1, maxfewtrell, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, carlossainz55, and 1,234,425 others

formulafoodie: abu dhabi!!! thank you for the wonderful food and to broadwayuae for having me.

as the season comes to a close, i wanted to say thank you for spending yet another season with me! stay tuned for my regular programming of my favorite recipes starting next week 🥰

view all comments

user4: already looking forward to your off season content!!! love love love your recipes that you feed us with during the winter 🫶🏻

user7: no thank YOU for taking us along with you this season

f1: see you soon formulafoodie

netflix: what race had the best food this season?

formulafoodie: hmm… good question!! everyone make sure to tune into the newest driver to survive episodes to find out 😉

user6: OMG THEYRE SOING A REVEAL ON DTS

user12: i will only be accepting gold plated coffee only from now on

user8: thank you for a great season 🫶🏻

user19: we love you formulafoodie!

netflix has made a post

liked by ynuser, astonmartinf1, lando, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, yourbff, georgerussell63, and 987,245 others

netflix: drive to survive’s first episode is out now! we sat down with y/n y/l/n, the grids resident it girl and foodie, as she navigates the pressures of being the only female formula 1 driver and her quest to bring aston martin to its glory.

[tagged: ynuser, formulafoodie, astonmartinf1]

view all comments

user6: NO WAY FORMULAFOODIE IS Y/N?!

astonmartinf1: how lucky we are to have y/n 🤍

user20: “in my rookie season i really found that i needed an outlet and i wanted to express myself outside of the confines of driving. so i turned to my next passion which is cooking and in doing so i started this amazing community and i wouldn’t trade it for the world.” DONT LOOK AT ME IM DEF CRYING

user18: my shayla 😭😩

user19: we gotta protect y/n and formulafoodie at all costs

user14: only watching the episode to hear my queen speak 🗣️

lando: so this is how i find out ynuser??? do you hate me??

ynuser: stop it you muppet. i love you and you know it

lando: but you never took me to dinner?

ynuser: bc you’re shit at keeping secrets my dear

maxfewtrell: she’s right mate you can’t keep your mouth shut

lando: SLANDER

lance_stroll: so this is why you always bring the best local desserts to our hospitality ynuser

ynuser: you got me 🤭

user13: netflix new how to hook me right in for this season with giving me y/n first

formulafoodie has made a post 📍home

liked by lance_stroll, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, lando, alex_albon and 1,298,475 others

formulafoodie: back home and finally able to cook!! feeding my favorite muppet lando today (he wouldn’t stop asking)!! i am so beyond grateful for this community and for all of you. here’s to a new chapter together 🤍

oh and be sure to check out my bolognese recipe on my website!!

view all comments

user4: the first face reveal post 😭

user12: RUNNING TO GO MAKE THIS RECIPE

lando: F I N A L L Y!!!!! thank you for the pasta my friend

lance_stroll: and you’re going to cook for me when?

estebanocon: can i make reservations at maison de y/n?

charlesleclerc: no no have alex and i over first!

ynuser: i’ll hold a grid dinner soon don’t worry 🫶🏻

user12: cutie patootie

user4: looking forward to all your new content y/n/n

astonmartinf1: enjoy 🍝

user18: this looks so good 😋

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes, feedback and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[smokebombsandspotlights]

🥗The Grid’s Mom (But Only If You're a Rookie)

Pairing: Platonic!F1 Grid x fem!Reader (Y/N) Word Count: 1,074 Genre: Slice of life / Platonic fluff / F1 Drivers being chaotic kids Warnings: None! Just good vibes, rookie chaos, and food.

📝 Summary: Y/N is the chill Mercedes driver known for her sharp overtakes and sharp knives—because when she’s not overtaking Red Bulls, she’s in the paddock kitchen slicing tomatoes for her homemade pasta salad. When rookies Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman, and Isack Hadjar join the 2025 grid, she accidentally becomes their paddock mom. But not everyone on the grid is thrilled she’s feeding them and not everyone else…

“You cooked again?”

Y/N glanced up from the Tupperware she was packing. A light clatter of metal utensils followed as she snapped the lid shut, stuffing a napkin on top like always.

Kimi Antonelli hovered nearby, sheepish but hopeful. The smell of rosemary chicken and garlic rice filled the hospitality tent.

“I might have,” she said teasingly, sliding the box across the table.

Kimi didn’t even try to act casual—he beamed like a golden retriever getting a treat. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’s literally grilled chicken. You’d survive either way.”

“Barely.”

It started at testing in Bahrain.

Ollie Bearman had forgotten to eat breakfast before practice. Y/N, in a rare moment of prepper energy, had made overnight oats with cinnamon and brown sugar. She split it with him. Then, Kimi admitted he hated the hotel food in Jeddah, so she brought him a tiny box of pasta.

By the time they reached Australia, Isack Hadjar was showing up at her door with hopeful eyes and a “Do you have any of those banana muffins again?”

“I’m not a catering service,” she warned, even as she handed him one.

“You are now, mom,” Ollie grinned.

It stuck. “Mom.”

MONACO, GP WEEKEND

In the shared gym area behind the Mercedes motorhome, Lando passed her a dumbbell.

“I see Antonelli’s got another homemade wrap today.”

She gave him a look. “Didn’t realize you were tracking my meal distribution.”

He shrugged, trying not to sound salty. “Just saying. You’ve never made me food.”

“You’ve got a full-time nutritionist. Kimi has... vibes.”

“So you’re a food snob now?”

“No,” she said with a smirk. “I just feed the children who look like they’d eat instant ramen every night.”

“I can cook,” Lando muttered.

“Do you use a microwave for your eggs?”

Lando’s silence said it all.

By summer break, the whole grid knew.

"She brings snacks to the paddock." "Yeah, and she bakes." "No way." "Swear. I got a lemon bar in Silverstone." "I got banana bread in Spa!"

Carlos claimed she was bribing them to not race her hard. Oscar said she was doing psychological warfare through comfort food. Max Verstappen simply showed up during FP2 in Hungary and said, “I heard you made cookies.”

Y/N sighed. “Who told you that?”

“Charles.”

Traitor.

IMOLA: ALL DRIVERS DINNER NIGHT 🍝

They were in Italy, and the team had arranged a big “drivers only” dinner. Fancy villa, Michelin chef, dramatic long table—everything.

Y/N was meant to just show up and eat.

Instead, she spent the afternoon helping the chef cook for twenty elite athletes who treated spaghetti like it was holy scripture.

“I thought you were relaxing,” Lando said when he found her in the kitchen wearing an apron that said “Caution: May Be Spicy.”

“I am,” she said. “Cooking is relaxing.”

“Are you seriously helping cook for the whole grid?”

“Would you rather I sabotage dinner?”

Lando blinked. “Honestly? Yeah. This would be peak chaos.”

By dessert, the drivers were in awe.

“Bro, who made this tiramisu?” George asked, mouth full.

“She did,” Ollie pointed proudly.

“What the hell, Y/N,” Carlos said. “This is like… illegal levels of good.”

“I can’t believe you actually cook like this,” Oscar muttered. “You’re wasting your talent in a car.”

“I’m not wasting anything,” she said, laughing. “I just like feeding people.”

Kimi leaned back, blissed out from a second helping of pasta. “You’re like… the paddock mom.”

“I’m literally two years older than you.”

“Yeah, but you pack my lunch,” he replied, deadpan.

📸 F1GossipFans uploaded:

Photo: Y/N standing in the Mercedes paddock handing a sandwich to Isack Hadjar. Caption: “Grid mom strikes again 😭 someone give her a cooking show already” Top Comment: LandoN4rris: and she’s never made ME a sandwich smh

SINGAPORE GP

The heat was unbearable. Most of the drivers were sweating buckets after FP1. Inside Mercedes, Y/N quietly brought out a small cooler bag. Inside? Homemade peach iced tea and energy bites.

“Are these for everyone?” Oscar asked, eyes hopeful.

“Nope,” she said, handing them to Ollie, Isack, and Kimi.

Lando gave her an offended look from across the room.

“Don’t even,” she warned.

“I’m not saying I want a whole meal,” he said. “Just maybe... a muffin? Or like... a cookie.”

“You’re 25 years old. Go bake it yourself.”

He pouted.

POST-RACE INTERVIEW — AUSTIN, TX

Reporter: “Y/N, great P4 today! People are calling you the ‘Grid Mom’ because of how you treat the rookies. Thoughts?”

Y/N: [laughs] “I think they’re just dramatic. I like cooking. That’s all.”

Reporter: “We heard you made homemade cinnamon rolls for Ollie this morning?”

Y/N: [pretends to glare at the camera] “Who’s leaking my secrets?”

*Cut to: Ollie Bearman behind her, giving a thumbs-up like a kid who got an extra cookie at lunch.

MEXICO GP: MERCEDES HOSPITALITY

Lando showed up to her paddock uninvited. Again.

“Whatcha making?”

“Pumpkin bread. You’re not getting any.”

“Why not?!”

“Because last time you took a bite, then said it tasted ‘too healthy’ and insulted my use of nutmeg.”

“I was being constructive!”

“You’re getting none.”

LAST RACE OF THE SEASON – ABU DHABI

Y/N had baked for every single race.

This time, it was pistachio baklava with a citrus glaze. She left small paper-wrapped bundles on each driver’s seat during race day prep.

Each one was labeled with names in sharpie:

To Kimi – don’t forget to breathe Ollie – remember, P6 is yours Isack – stop overthinking quali, you’ve got this

Max’s said: You’re terrifying. Good luck. Charles’s: For the fastest chef in Monaco 😉 Oscar’s: Don’t let Lando steal this from you Lando’s just said: Fine. You win. ❤️ –Mom

PIT WALL RADIO, FINAL LAPS

Race Engineer: “Lando, P5 looking solid, but you’re gonna want to keep pressure for P4. Also—uh—Y/N said she’ll bake you something if you overtake Charles.”

Lando: “Wait, what?!”

Engineer: “Her words: ‘If he pulls it off, he gets double-chocolate chip.’”

Lando (determined): “Tell her she better preheat the oven.”

END-OF-SEASON PHOTO:

All 20 drivers in their suits, standing behind a table full of homemade snacks.

In the middle, Y/N holding a tray of brownies, pretending not to smile as everyone chants “Grid Mom! Grid Mom!”

Kimi has a sandwich in one hand. Ollie is biting into a muffin. Isack is waving a spatula like a trophy.

Lando? He’s holding a Tupperware labeled “finally yours – don’t complain” and looks like he’s won the championship.

End.

Taglist: @moonlightphilosopher, @karinari1@jessk23@bunnisplayground@thisdoesntexsist-cherry@bookworm-weirdofor-life@skzlover24@lottie810@josephinel83@hades-favourite-daughter@princess3055@rosiel-leclerc04@nikfigueiredo@anoukformula1

[eriwithpetalsandletters]

Code Blue for Oscar Piastri

A nurse on the brink of burnout finds unexpected salvation in a thirst trap clip of F1 driver Oscar Piastri—setting off a chain reaction of chaos, overheard confessions, jealous spirals, and one very smug Australian whose biceps unintentionally spark a pilgrimage to the Grand Prix.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story created purely for entertainment and imaginative purposes.

It was one of those golden afternoons in Monte Carlo where the sun painted everything with a cinematic glow. At a cozy little café tucked between a florist and a wine shop, the hum of espresso machines mingled with idle chatter.

Inside, Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc were sunk deep into plush velvet seats, locked in a heated discussion about the gravest matter of motorsport: fashion crimes.

“Charles wears more pastel than my daughter,” Max quipped, sipping his macchiato with a smirk.

Lando scoffed. “At least he doesn’t wear crocs with socks, Max.”

“Comfort over cringe,” Max replied with mock pride.

Oscar chimed in, “We should all just admit Lando peaked in hoodie couture and let him rest.”

Lando narrowed his eyes but couldn’t fight back a grin. Just as he was preparing a clever retort, something—or rather someone—caught his eye. He nudged Charles and nodded toward a table across the room. “Oi, remember when I got sick and ended up at Clinique Monte Carlo?”

“Oh, you mean the man-flu saga?” Charles teased.

“You mean when you cried because they didn’t bring you pudding?” Max added with a smug laugh.

“I did not cry,” Lando said, defensively. “I merely expressed extreme disappointment.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Is that what the nurse wrote down on your chart? ‘Patient exhibiting signs of pudding-induced grief’?”

Lando rolled his eyes and pointed discreetly toward a young woman seated near the window, a tablet in hand, brows furrowed as she tapped away, clearly lost in a sea of tasks. She was with a friend, but her focus was elsewhere, perhaps still mentally tethered to her shift. “That’s her,” Lando said, voice lowering slightly. “That’s the nurse I told you about, Y/N L/N.”

Oscar turned to look, and for a moment, everything else dimmed. The sun spilled through the window, catching her features in a way that made her glow softly, almost angelically. She was pouting, lips pursed in concentration. “She’s… pretty,” Oscar said, nearly breathless.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Lando said, leaning back. “She ran her floor like a commander. Everything clicked around her. A doctor told me she practically held the place together—called to every wing like some crisis anchor. Patient freaking out? She was there. Parent melting down? She was already handling it.”

Oscar laughed under his breath. “I mean… I’d calm down too if I saw that face. Maybe even fake a fever.”

Lando grinned. “While I was there, some of the parents legit tried to set her up with their sons. It was like watching a live dating show in the ward.”

“Understandable,” Oscar said smoothly, eyes still fixed on her. “I ship her and… myself.”

Max choked on his drink. Charles snorted audibly. Lando shook his head in amusement. “Mate, you’ve spoken more in the past five minutes than you did the entire Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend.”

Oscar didn’t bother to defend himself. He leaned into his seat, cheek resting against his palm, gaze flicking occasionally toward the nurse as she nodded at something her friend said, her fingers dancing across the screen.

The conversation slowly returned to its original topic, with Max dragging Charles for owning too many white sneakers and Charles insisting monochrome is a lifestyle, but Oscar? He was only half-listening.

Because across the café sat someone who looked like she could calm a storm—and maybe, accidentally, start one in his heart.

The café buzzed with a relaxed hum—the sort that bubbles up after a long day of work and caffeine highs. On one side, a table played host to Y/N L/N, who was very much not in relaxation mode. Her tablet was open, stylus dancing across the screen, brows locked in a war of concentration. Her half-empty cappuccino sat untouched, its foam collapsing under the pressure of her grind.

Her friend sighed, clearly unimpressed. “This was supposed to be a break.”

Y/N didn’t look up. “Almost done. Just need to finish charting—”

“No.” Her friend snatched her phone off the table and shoved it inches from Y/N’s face. “Watch. And thank me later.”

Y/N blinked at her, suspicious. “This better be worth it,” she muttered, taking the phone like it might explode.

The screen lit up—Oscar Piastri, mid-race prep. He was pulling his balaclava over his absurdly tousled curls, arms flexing under the strain, biceps looking like they’d been custom-built by sculptors who moonlight as personal trainers. The clip was in slow motion. There was dramatic music. The angles were obscene.

Y/N froze.

Like a deer in headlights.

Her grip tightened around the phone. Her face turned a shade of red that would make Ferrari jealous.

“Oh no,” she whispered, eyes locked on the screen. “Oh hell no.”

Then she hit replay.

Again.

And again.

Her pupils dilated. Her soul ascended. The stylus clattered onto the table, forgotten.

“Why does this look like a Marvel origin story?” she muttered, cradling the phone like it contained sacred knowledge. “Who is this man? Why isn’t someone like this walking into my hospital floor?”

Her friend grinned. “You haven’t even hit the second video yet.”

Y/N swiped.

It was Oscar in the gym. Hip thrusts. Barbell loaded. Sweat shimmering. Focus terrifying. Core stability unholy.

Y/N combusted.

“He just revived my entire soul,” she said, clutching the phone dramatically. “I’m jealous of that barbell.”

“I want to be lifted like that barbell. Respectfully.” She paused. “Actually... disrespectfully.”

“I would abandon my whole medical license for him.”

“I would let him ruin my circadian rhythm. My electrolytes. My tax returns.”

“I would let him do the Heimlich on me just so I could feel those arms around me.”

Across the café, at the drivers’ table, the chaos was beginning to ripple.

Lando squinted. “Who’s got her all flustered?”

Charles stirred his tea. “She’s fanning herself.”

Max raised a brow. “Oscar, you see this? Your nurse looks like she just watched a thirst documentary.”

Oscar frowned, posture tense. His eyes were locked on Y/N, whose cheeks were crimson and eyes wide. She was muttering under her breath, clutching a phone like a lifeline.

He didn’t know what she was watching. But he hated it.

“She’s giggling now,” Lando noted. “This is escalating.”

Oscar leaned further into his seat, jaw tight, brows furrowed.

“She’s talking to her friend about it,” Charles added. “Look at her face. That’s thirst. That’s full-blown thirst.”

Then it happened. They heard her.

“He can bite me and slap me, I would not complain.”

Oscar’s eyes widened.

Max dropped his spoon. “Excuse me?”

Charles let out a stunned laugh. “That’s bold.”

Lando gaped. “Oscar, why do you look like your soul just left your body?”

Oscar was locked in. Eyes on her. Lips pressed together. His typical cool-cat composure? Gone. He looked like a man watching his emotional stability be peeled apart like a tangerine.

Then Y/N struck again.

“He’s Australian? I know I said my chances of survival in Australia are low—but I never said zero.”

Max wheezed. “Who is she talking about? You know any hot Aussies, mate?”

Charles grinned at Oscar. “Why are you sulking like it’s your girl thirsting after someone else?”

Oscar didn’t answer. He sank deeper into his seat, like gravity was punishing him for having feelings.

“You plan on releasing thirst traps now?” Lando teased, eyes narrowed. “We didn’t know you had that kind of energy.”

Charles snorted. “I swear she said ‘hip thrust.’ You hip thrusting now, Oscar? You training to ruin hearts?”

“I didn’t release thirst traps,” Oscar muttered, a touch too sharp.

Max leaned in, grinning. “Too late. You sound offended.”

Oscar rubbed his jaw, trying to hide the pink creeping up his neck. “I’m not offended.”

“You’re so offended, polite cat Oscar is gone,” Lando said.

Charles tapped his phone. “I swear if this mystery Aussie is you...”

Oscar stared back across the room. Y/N was laughing again, still clutching the phone. She looked euphoric. Blissful. Desperate. But not for him (or so he thought).

He looked like a man on the edge.

A very jealous man on the edge.

And he didn’t even know—it was his body, his video, his arms that had just wrecked her entire mental infrastructure.

Y/N’s finger hovered over the phone like it was sacred scroll territory.

Her friend leaned in, whispering, “Okay but you’ve watched that hip thrust clip like—ten times?”

“I need to commit it to memory,” Y/N replied solemnly. “For medical reasons.”

And then, like a dam breaking—

"I'm gonna have Oscar Piastri tattooed on my forehead," she declared, eyes wild with fervor. “I'll build a shrine for him right in my station—so when parents try to flirt on behalf of their sons, I’ll point and say: 'This is the only man I’m accepting applications for.’”

Her friend nearly fell out of her seat laughing.

Across the café, at the drivers’ table, the air shifted. Slowly. Dangerously.

Charles blinked. “Wait. Did she just say Oscar Piastri?”

Max looked like he’d been hit with a defibrillator. “She did. She literally said his name.”

Oscar—who had been sliding down the jealousy spiral like a rollercoaster off its rails—went absolutely still. Eyes wide. Neurons stalled. His spoon dropped. His soul tried to evacuate.

"She’s...talking about me?” he whispered, voice distant, as if this revelation had short-circuited his internal operating system.

Lando leaned in, grinning like a menace. “Bro. Calm and polite Oscar is completely gone. You look like your software just crashed.”

Charles snorted. “She wants a forehead tattoo. That’s obsession with a capital P—Piastri.”

Max added, “And a shrine? Is she canonizing you or crushing on you?”

Oscar was clearly malfunctioning. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks a rosier hue than Ferrari's livery. “I didn’t think she’d recognize me... the gym video didn’t even have a name.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “So you did release thirst traps.”

Oscar groaned. “Not on purpose.”

Then they heard her again.

"I'm gonna watch a Grand Prix," Y/N declared, grabbing her bag with the righteous conviction of someone about to change her life. She was still buzzing—part caffeine, part thirst-induced epiphany. "I'm gonna file a leave."

Her friend blinked. “The hospital’s gonna let you?”

“They’ll have no choice,” Y/N said, eyes ablaze with devotion. “I’ll tell them it’s for healing. For my sanity. For the restoration of my crumbling soul.”

Then she paused, lips pursed like a woman on the verge of tears—or spontaneous combustion.

“If I don’t see Oscar Piastri live, I swear, I will cry my whole heart out. I’ll walk into the ER with mascara streaks and tell them it’s grief-related. I will not function. I’ll start charting memes instead of vitals. I’ll prescribe ice packs to people with broken ankles. I’ll emotionally flatline.”

Her friend was wheezing. “You sound unwell.”

“I am unwell. He did this to me.”

The two nurses rose from the table, their laughter trailing behind them as they headed for the exit—Y/N already planning which trackside corner she’d faint at when Oscar walked past.

Back at the drivers’ table, the silence was electric.

Oscar slowly sat up straight. Shoulders back. Head held high. His face split into a small, smug smile.

“She’s coming to the race,” he said softly.

Lando blinked. “You good?”

Oscar nodded, the barest smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I’m very good.”

Max leaned in. “You planning a show?”

Oscar’s smile widened. “No more sleeves. That’s for sure."

Charles raised his glass. “To the nurse with good taste—and the Grand Prix that’s about to turn into a rom-com.”

[eicsferrari]

premiere - cs55 smau

summary: yn is paul mescal's sister. her and carlos meet at a premiere

faceclaim: madison cline

a/n: i had this in the drafts for too long

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal my twin brother is in a movie or whatever

tagged: bigbreadpedlar

♡liked by yourbestfriend and others

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yourbestfriend my wife💍

user14 she mugged him so bad

user9 he's so hot i need him😩

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal posted a story

→last night i met the most GORGEOUS and funny man we talked for a while but I don't know his name!! someone pls help me find him

→this is him if you know him ask him to slide into those dms thank you

replies

↪ yourbestfriend ON MAIN that's crazy

↪ yourbestfriend also that's f1 driver carlos sainz

ynmescal thanks babe

ynmescal brb searching his ig

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ynmescal don't mind me, just casually posting more pictures from last night

♡liked by gracieabrams and others

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ynmescal and now we wait ...

user3 mother i love you

user2 the last slide kskdkd

user11 posting this after sharing his picture on stories and following him iconic behavior

user17 tbh i too would do this if i had a chance with a f1 driver

carlossainz55 hola again 👋🏼

ynmescal hola😊

user7 it CANT be that simple

user18 ig it is when you are pretty😔

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ynmescal posted a story

→guess who has a date tonight

replies

↪ yourbestfriend NOW you use close friends

ynmescal it worked, didn't it?

ynmescal posted a story

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sainzupdates carlos leaving the paddock today

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user8 who is she?

user81 i think ynmescal, she was at the paddock with her brother paul. carlos commented her picture about a month ago

user35 this is such a pr relationship🙄🙄

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carlossainz55 good company today

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user89 paul, carlos and charles together this is a big day for annoying people (me)

user55 tag her! we know who the good company is, you are not smooth

user52 the casual post oh to be young, rich and in love ...

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ynmescal this f1 thing is fun

♡liked by lando and others

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user29 pretty girl

yourbestfriend i bet it is🙄

yn ☺️

user37 is by any chance your boyfriend single?

ynmescal luckily no!

user37 and your brother? i'm not picky!

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ynmescal only bought this dress so you could take it off

bigbreadpedlar is this post necessary?

yn at least I don't have one night stands and run away from them at the park👊

gracieabrams IJBOL

carlossainz55 what's ijbol?

yn i just burst out laughing

bigbreadpedlar i'm too old for this shit

carlossainz55 same

gracieabrams look, millennials everyone point and laugh🫵

user19 are they really selling as a love story how she took a photo of him without permission and posted it?? stalker behavior she was so desperate to be a wag

user61 get a life

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carlossainz55 haters can choke

tagged: ynmescal

user he never posts his girlfriends omg this is serious

lando pic credits?

carlossainz55 no

ynmescal ❤️

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ynmescal quality time with my favorite people

tagged: gracieabrams, carlossainz55, bigbreadpedlar

user82 i love everything about this crossover

user68 carlos and paul are so boyfriend coded

yn i swear sometimes it feels like they are the ones dating, they have bike dates every day

gracieabrams ily

ynmescal i love you moreeee

carlossainz55 if only they knew why we were so tired in the last pic...

ynmescal CARLOS

bigbreadpedlar THAT'S MY SISTER

carlossainz55 i meant cycling!

ynmescal no u didn't

carlossainz55 no i didn't🤭

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Taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @formoola1fan @2bormaybenot @searecs @rana030 @multifantasic70 @yourmommyagone22 @primadonaprincess55 @hoeforlifee @literallysza @nichmeddar @in-the-marina-trench @ahgase99 @gigigreens @danielricroll @harrysdimple05