#f1 driver!reader

[housepartyprotocol]

Teammates

Oscar Piastri x teammate!reader

summary: Oscar and his teammate have a close hilarious relationship

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lewishamilton and 2,109,851 others

ynusername Photo of oscar accurately describes how I feel going into my home gp

view all 10,293 comments

oscarpiastri how do you always find the worst photos of me

ynusername i take them bb oscarpiastri oh my god user best teamates on the grid

user if only the mclaren car was better for them

user i think mclaren should be more worried about yn's insane internet presence ynusername omg no..... dont tell them mclaren you are mistaken we live for this

lewishamilton home race !

georgerussell silverstone ! ynusername Brit squad assemble ! landonorris here we come !

user YN is my favourite driver by a landslide

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 1,992,938 others

ynusername he may've been schooled in this country but he is in desperate need of an education on pure culture

view all 41,291 comments

user I love the fact the minute she is not racing she has the craziest nails

user are they acrylics ynusername they are press ons, easy on easy off ynusername easy way to be hot

oscarpiastri I love that these are the photos you post, you're education was not coffee shops and bookshops

ynusername what nope it was very mundane oscarpiastri nothing with you is mundane user shots fired user petition for yn to release the other photos landonorris petition signed alexalbon petition signed

lewishamilton the most cultured driver crown might be passed down soon

ynpiastri omg can you knight me too lewishamilton i wish! user the crown needs to be passed on now

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 802,439 others

oscarpiastri Just shy of a podium but got to witness the united kingdoms honorary princess on a podium. (also its not her birthday, her birthday is in 8 months)

view all 99,204 comments

user its always her birthday!

user always !! ynusername it is! oscarpiastri I am not getting you gifts everyday user he gets her birthday gifts..

ynusername mclaren domination in the foreseeable future

oscarpiastri so soon user i love them user they should date

f1fanupdates

liked by 3,420 users

f1fanupdates For the uneducated and borderline uncultured, meet the McLaren cuties. Teammates YN LN and Oscar Piastri channel the Gen Z unmedia-trained craziness. Having known each other from F3 days, their social media makes McLaren admins have heart attacks. Both having wins under their belt, it makes them a very strong team, a force. Would I be lying if I said they would be cute together...

view all 198 comments

user I love them, they are my parents, together or not

user they are iconic I hope they never get trained

user they are the hottest drivers, McLaren slayed with this pairing

user preach

user I already thought they were dating

user no they are just friendly user I bet there are underlying feelings

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 2,202,420 others

ynusername checking out the opposition. checking OUT the opposition

view all 70,436 others

user she is unhinged

user she is iconic

user is she dating lewis

user nah lewis is married user since when?!?

oscarpiastri don't you dare jump ship

ynusername can't promise anything pooks oscarpiastri you better mclaren you better ynusername till death does us part x

lewishamilton you are not smart with this caption

ynusername innocent until proven guilty lewishamilton you are baiting him user WHO, LEWIS TELL US user OMgggg drama

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, landonorris and 892,104 others

oscarpiastri pov we were meant to be at the technology centre at 9. One of us was

view 67,241 comments

ynusername nooo youve made me look bad, it was traffic

oscarpiastri So, thats not an ice cold coffee in the selfie you sent me ynusername no one was meant to see that oscapiastri nothing you send me is safe sweetheart ynusername I ... okay user omg is she lost for words

user thats possible??

user omg they sent each other photos

user thats not a crazy thing user just let me believe they have feelings

mclaren ohhhh thats why you were late

ynusername no not at all mother mclaren mother is disappointed oscarpiastri what is happening? mclaren its okay son oscarpiastri oh hell naw we are not siblings user hes not helping the rumours

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, mclaren, and 2,579,546 others

ynusername A visual representation of me trying to soft launch a relationship

view all 278,543 comments

oscarpiastri is this why you have been screaming/wheezing in your drivers room for the last 30 mins

user omg she is just like the rest of us oscarpiastri shes been in tears screaming 'why do i have none without his face!!' ynusername you are out of line Piastri oscarpiastri wow, not the surname

lewishamilton very very accurate

ynusername huh lewishamilton we are going to talk soon ynusername @ anyone HELP ME oscarpiastri nothing can help you now

user okay so who do we think it is

user oscar user oscar user oscar user ah so a universal thought

f1fanupdates

liked by 8,250 users

f1fanupdates It has been five months since this soft launching started! We are almost in Abu Dhabi, and YN is still just teasing her partner. We all think it is Oscar, but it is still unknown. No matter who it is though, they look good together

view all 942 comments

user OSCARRRRR

user Imagine it is not oscar and it is some poor guy and now he's upset

user oh user thats a good point

user OscarYN for life

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 1,240,567 others

oscarpiastri Hoping on the soft launching YN's relationship train

view all 82,459 comments

ynusername wow, thats my next post ruined

lewishamilton for the love of all that is good, just post him ynusername booo oscarpiastri no booo its getting boring ynusername you think that, really.. ? oscarpiastri i do yn girl

user this is hilarious

user i thought this was an YN post at first user same! user oscar is getting sick of it lol

mclaren There were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded

user not mclaren quoting princess Diana user wouldn't it be four, mclaren, oscar, yn, yns partner user i think you are delusional user i think they are right user mclaren outing there relationship...

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 2,520,636 others

ynusername my man my man my maaaan

view all 97,577 comments

user its officalllll guys

user im so happy i was right user they look amazing together user hot couple

oscarpiastri finally a hard launch pookie

oscarpiastri was wondering when you would do it ynusername i was teeing it up lewishamilton its been a good 8 months of you two sneaking around the paddock landonorris we all knew maxverstappen i walked in on them making out fully behind the mclaren hospitatility alexalbon we all did that day, it was basically public information

mclaren our evil plan finally worked

ynusername your what... oscarpiastri your what... mclaren nothing, doors sometimes just lock on accident user not mclaren admin confessing to playing cupid mclaren not just me, everyone, Zak once hid YN's car keys so Oscar had to drive her home ynusername WHAT OMG I FEEL BETRAYED

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, ynusername, landonorris, and 1,924,250 others

oscarpiastri HR approved of photos 1 and 2 of my girlfriend

view all 45,266 others

user goddamm

ynusername OSCAR

oscarpiastri hey georgus ynusername georgus? oscarpiastri thats you landonorris you guys make me sickkk ynusername love you toooo oscarpiastri hey... ynusername x

mclaren we do not approve of the 3rd

oscarpiastri I do not want another HR meeting ynusername THIS ONE WASN'T MY FAULT! DON'T MAKE ME SIT THROUGH ANOTHER user what happened last time.. mclaren setting work place phyiscal intimacy boundaries ynusername Oscar is not a good influence on me oscarpiastri you aren't a good influence on anyone love

user I love these two so much

user best teammates on the grid

user the next brocedes ynusername we arent having a dramatic public break up lewishamilton oh

[norrisainz33]

⋆₊⊹ Platonic Grid & Driver Reader Masterlist ⊹₊ ⋆

( navigation | guidelines | masterlist | drop a request )

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

The Call | y/n gets the call to race for alpine in the last 6 races of the season and she’s got something to prove

The Call pt 2 | y/n finishes off the triple header strong

The Call pt 3 | y/n enjoys the break and races in vegas

The Call pt 4 | y/n gets news about 2025 and takes things to the next level with a certain driver

Foodie || f1 it girl runs popular influencer account but no one knows until a certain netflix series reveals her secret

Foodie pt2 || grid dinner hosted by y/n

© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bunny-jpeg]

not second best

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, redbull driver!reader, teammates au, jealousy, possessiveness, missionary, dirty talk, rough sex

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you stood in front of the camera and thought on it for a moment before you answered, "oh, easy! i'd choose charles! i'd say we're pretty close and i'm hopeful this year is the year we wins... but he'd have to beat me first!" then winked at the camera with your hands on your hips.

your teammate, max, was behind the camera and his ears were burning. he knew the question was a joke, but he didn't want to see his favourite teammate be on the same team with his most loathed rival.

in the hotel room, max's hand lingered across your back a little more as he guided you away from your hotel room and towards his. his nose brushed against your neck, taking in your scent before he went to open the door.

when he got the door closed behind you two, his hands were on you once more. his lips at your neck and between kisses he asked, "you'd pick, charles, huh?"

you squeaked, "they said pick someone else." you looked into max's eyes, "we're already teammates." and your eyes went a little wide as he pressed himself further against you. you two have had sex before, it was no secret - with the amount of time you spent together it was inevitable.

"could have picked anyone else." he said lowly as he rubbed up against you further and touched your chest, "you know how i feel about him. how he gets under my skin. i wouldn't want anyone to be on the same team as you. you're mine."

you knew his reaction was overbearing, but you knew that max deeply cared for you. he yearned for you deeply. the thump of his heart was in time with how much he adored you, needed you. so the idea of charles taking you away from him only poked at something in his brain.

you gasped when he bit into the skin of your neck, you knew it would bruise. but something curled in your gut as you felt the a certain lust wash over you.

"you're red bull or nothing." he said lowly, "by my side, or off the track." he said as he started to play with the front of your jeans, "i don't want charles to get the wrong idea, so tonight. i'm going to make sure you firmly remember who you belong to." he placed another kiss on your neck before you ended up in the bedroom and on the bed.

you could have said no, you could have stood your ground and had him slink away with his tail between his legs. but there was something about the domineering max that just made you wet. the looked in his eye, cold, commanding. he looked like the villain that everyone thought of him as.

you took off your branded t-shirt and you felt his gaze linger on your breasts. he licked his lips and you got your bra off, slowly your jeans came off too along with the rest of your under garments. socks throw in two different directions and your panties on the other side of the bed. max was quicker to get undressed before he got on top of you in bed. he pushed you up against the pillows and gazed down at you.

his cock was fully erect. you knew he got off to submitting you under him. he told you once that he liked when you posed a challenge on the track because that meant he could fuck you harder. a real champion can take anything, he told you once when he had you in a headlock and bullied your poor pussy.

"look at you." he said as he hiked your hips up closer to him, "see, this is what no other driver can have. you're just so sweet on the track, you're their little star. but you need someone to actually keep you safe. and charles would never do that." max said lowly and rubbed the tip of his cock up against you, "too trusting. you should only be trusting me."

you swallowed, "please, max." you held onto the pillows under your head and you lifted your hips a little to give him better access to your cunt. you were wet and max knew it. he loved that he carried that bit of control over you, easily making you soaked between your legs.

he remembered after a rough practice he spent what felt like half an hour rubbing your cunt through your driver's suit and he knew that you raced the next round with stickiness between your legs. risky move, but max had to plant those seeds early.

that after formula one, you wouldn't become an engineer or a reporter, or whatever else ex-drivers seemed to do. no, you'd be max's wife. and hopefully married after after that season ended.

he looked at you and licked his lips. you met his gaze as he sank his cock into you. you arched your back a little and he relaxed against you. and so did you. he planted his hands on either side of you, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips as you wrapped your legs around him.

"look at you." he said.

you shifted yourself on the bed a little and reached for him. your arms wrapped around his neck. you held on while he moved against you. pleasure moved through both of you. you loved the feeling, even with max's harsh words, you still felt affection for him. both as a teammate and a lover.

"i'm always looking out for you." he said, he drank in the sight of your face, "i want you well, i want you safe. and i want you as mine." his strokes started to move faster, he felt a slight fire in his gut from the feeling of his cock buried inside of you slick pussy.

you were on birth control, but still it was a risk to take you this way. to have him bare inside of you. but, it eased his jealousy just a little bit to know that he was the only man to ever take you this bare. to take you as his, all his.

"please, max. it feels so good." you encouraged him as you held on tighter, the pleasure was growing in your core as he rutted against you. there was something about how his cock moved inside of you that hit all the right areas that made your eyes roll a little out of pleasure.

"you don't know what you do to me." he said lowly, "i don't want you to ever think about having another teammate ever again. i want you to only need me by your side. matching cars, matching uniforms." matching last names.

he continued to thrust into you, he held onto the bedding a little tighter and felt the sweat at his brow. it was hot between you two. the movements of him against you only had you holding onto you tighter.

"max. fuck."

"i know, it feels good. you love how you feel under me. do you like being my teammate?"

you nodded and your nails nipped at the back of his neck as you held on, you swallowed before you said, "i love being your teammate, max. you know that!"

"do you want another teammate? want another man to fuck you the way i do?"

you shook your head, "never. never in a million years. i want us to win the constructor's this year!" you arched your back a little when his cock nudged against just the right spot that made you feel tingly all over. he laid another heated kiss on your lips and continued to fuck you quickly and roughly.

the headboard slammed against the wall from the force that he was fucking with you. you whined into the kiss and he held onto your hips tightly, you were pinned under him while he fucked you. he felt your body quake under him, the feeling of heat under your skin. you were the sparks in his brain and the fuel in his blood.

fucking you was the same intensity as driving. except he could let his mind grow hazy with each powerful thrust. to know you'd never want another meant the world to him, to know that you were all his. you moaned against his lips and clawed down his strong back.

you didn't last much longer. you broke the kiss and made a strong yet whiny noise as you came around his cock. you arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut as you climaxed. it only spurred him on, it made his heart hammer along with yours. the pleasure flooded your head and after you reached your peak, you let go of him and let him have his wicked way with you.

"beautiful." max said as he continued to fuck you strong thrusts. he left himself feel all of you, every inch of you felt warm under him. you were sweaty and hot. he licked his lips and the pleasure throbbed in his body.

"please, max. i'm sorry that i made that comment. i knew i couldn't pick you." you whined.

max kissed at your neck, "next time, pick someone else. alex, george, even carlos. just not charles, i won't let that sweet talker take you from me." you could feel the possessiveness in his tone.

he knew he was close, with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he groaned under his breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. your cunt fluttered around him and he drank in the feeling. you felt amazing, warm all over and so soft. he knew he had to have you always.

"perfect." he cooed before he pulled out and laid out next to you in bed. he cupped your face with his large hand. those large hands on your soft skin. he leaned in, "tell me again."

you opened your eyes and asked, "tell you what?"

"that you don't want charles."

you shook your head, "i don't want charles. only you, max." and you curled up closer to him. his touches were more gentle, the jealous beast in him calmed down. for now.

-

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you thought about it for a moment, the reminder of last time tickled in your gut. but quickly you looked back to the camera and said, "i'd have to pick, lando! he got really close to the wdc last year, but if we were teammates he'd have a little more competition."

and you knew behind the camera, max verstappen was seething. <3

[starkwlkr]

linger | paul mescal

an: FOR 🇮🇪 IRELAND 🇮🇪 yes this is named after a cranberries song ily dolores o’riordan rip

INSTAGRAM

liked by mescalupdates, wagstyle and others

f1gossip red bull driver, y/n l/n, was spotted out in los angeles with her group of friends. while taking photos with fans, someone asked her if carlos did give paul mescal her phone number and she replied with “I’m still waiting, i think paul’s taking his sweet time.”

it’s rumored that paul will attend the las vegas grand prix, do you think these two will meet? will we have a new couple making their paddock debut? let us know in the comments!

y/nstyle i better not see paul mescal fans attack y/n

formulaelle i’m going to start gatekeeping

mescalstyles you’re going to gatekeep a famous driver? A FAMOUS DRIVER? because she’s rumored to be in a relationship with an actor

formulaelle and i’ll do it again

francolapinto no

maxsupermax excuse me?

russellgeorg3 WHY IS HE HERE

y/nupdates um what??

ferraridepressionclub no to what? i need answers

francolapinto no

ferraridepressionclub ok king

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liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others

scuderiaferrari vegas brings out the stars!⭐️

f1elllyyyy one step closer to paul and y/n meeting omg

yourusername i love ireland 🇮🇪🍀🍻

carlossainz55 i heard ireland loves you too

charles_leclerc i want to go to ireland

leclercstype dude i don’t think they’re actually talking about the country

charles_leclerc i still want to go

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Las Vegas Grand Prix

The second Carlos introduced Paul and Y/n, he declared himself Cupid. The Irishman and the driver could not stop talking even though Y/n had media duties to attend to. Carlos excused himself once Y/n started talking about wanting to visit Ireland soon, with Paul offering to show her around.

“You see that? That’s all me.” Carlos told Charles as they walked back to the Ferrari garage.

“Well isn’t that nice of you,” Charles chuckled then looked back at the potential couple. “Do you think Y/n will let me join her if she goes to Ireland?”

“Mate, let it go for now. You’ll go there eventually.”

INSTAGRAM

liked by pascalispunk, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername ireland, you are beautiful

carlossainz55 ireland the country, right?

yourusername yes. . .

charles_leclerc take me next time?

yourusername ofc charlie ❤️

bigbreadpedlar another visit soon?

yourusername only if i get you as a tour guide

bigbreadpedlar i’ll see you soon then x

y/nstyle ARE WE SEEING THIS??

mescalupdates UMM WHATS GOING ONN

carlossainz55 something beautiful now shut up and appreciate what i have done for you

mescalupdates girl what

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[serveandchoke]

Lights out!

jannik sinner x f1 alpine driver!reader

summary: you are the only female driver in the grid. on race day, you happen to cross paths with a certain red headed tennis player.

a/n: my first fic! english isn't my first language so apologies in advance if i made any errors. also, i tried my best to be non-f1 fan friendly haha

The paddock buzzes with race day tension. Mechanics rush past with tires stacked shoulder-high, engineers juggle data on tablets, and camera crews swarm like bees. The scent of gasoline and espresso clings to the air, warm with late-summer Italian sun. You barely notice the commotion anymore.

You're used to the glances. The stares. You're the only woman on the grid, the first in years. They don’t mean harm, most of them, but the weight of proving yourself has never really gone away. It’s carved into your pre-race rituals. The cold splash of water on your face, the mental visualization, the deep breath before pulling your race suit over your fireproofs.

“Y/N,” your race engineer’s voice crackles in your earpiece, breaking your focus. “Garage in ten. We’re running checks on the floor. Your left side looked off in FP3.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and turn toward the Alpine hospitality suite to grab your bottle and gloves. That’s when you catch a flicker of ginger hair and sunglasses across the walkway. Someone tall, lean, relaxed in a way no one else is right now. Not a driver.

It’s Jannik Sinner.

You’ve seen his face before on TV, sports magazines, that tennis documentary Netflix pushed on you mid-flight. You don’t follow tennis religiously, but you know him. Italian golden boy. Calm. Sharp. Unapologetically good. And apparently, a massive Formula 1 fan. You’ve heard he’s been to a few races before, he even met some of the boys from Red Bull last year.

Right now, he’s talking to Oscar Piastri, who’s leaned casually against the McLaren garage wall, helmet tucked under one arm. They’re laughing about something, Jannik’s hand briefly clapping Oscar on the shoulder.

You march over, not because of Jannik, but because Oscar still owes you answers about that mess in qualifying yesterday.

You stop just in front of them, planting your hands on your hips. “Piastri,” you say, not looking at Jannik. “You got a minute?”

Oscar gives you that signature dry smirk. “Didn’t expect the Alpine missile this early.”

You roll your eyes. “You blocked me in sector two. Again.”

Before Oscar can respond with something cheeky, Jannik clears his throat lightly. “You’re Y/N, right?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your throat goes dry, and you don't know why.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “You’re the tennis guy.”

He laughs softly, polite. “That’s one way to put it. I’ve seen you race. Big fan.”

There’s no condescension in his tone. No posturing. Just a simple truth. For some reason, it disarms you more than any media-trained compliment ever has.

Oscar glances between you two, eyes narrowing. “Oh, great. Now you’ve got Sinner rooting for Alpine.”

“Just this once,” Jannik says, grinning. “You two were brilliant in Spa. That overtake into Eau Rouge…”

He trails off, mimicking your steering motion with his hands.

You arch a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips. “Didn’t think tennis players watched F1 that closely.”

“Oh, I grew up watching. Used to pretend I was Alonso when I was a kid. Built my own track with soda cans in the backyard.” He chuckles, then pauses, shifting slightly. “You’ve got a shot today, right?”

You shrug. “If I survive Turn 1.”

“I’ll be watching,” he says, his voice a little quieter now.

Oscar nudges him. “She’s the real deal, mate. Don’t blink or you’ll miss her on the straight.”

You nod toward the garages. “I need to check in before the formation lap. But thanks for watching.”

You don’t say “nice to meet you.” You don’t shake his hand. The moment is small but electric, like the seconds before lights out. You only nod amd smile at him in appreciation before turning your back.

And as you walk away, you feel his eyes still on you.

———

Your heart is pounding so loud you can feel it in your neck.

Last lap.

The engine screams in your ears, and sweat drips down your temple beneath the helmet. You’re gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles are white. Your engineer’s voice crackles into your headset, calm but sharp.

“Last lap. You’re still holding second. Verstappen's only half a second ahead. You’ve got this.”

"Copy." You murmur.

The crowd is a blur; flags, flares, noise, just streaks of color around the circuit. You shift your focus back to the car ahead. Slipstreaming. Right behind. Just one chance.

You take a deep breath and throw the car down the inside at Turn 1. It’s risky. Brave. Clean.

You pull ahead, and before you know it, you're leading the race.

Your engineer screams in your ear: “Yes! You’re leading! Bring it home!”

You fly through the final few corners, barely blinking, barely breathing. This is what you trained for. This is everything.

As you come out of the final bend, the straight opens up before you—and then, just ahead, a figure waves the black and white checkered flag, signaling the race is over.

It’s Jannik.

He’s standing tall on the stand, waving the flag with a wide grin, hair a little messy from the wind, sunglasses forgotten in his hand. You don’t even know if he sees your car or recognizes that it’s you, but the moment feels electric.

You cross the finish line.

Winner.

You scream into the helmet. "LET'S GO! P1 BABY!" You roar in happiness, in disbelief.

“GREAT PACE! YOU DID IT!” your engineer roars. “P1! That’s a win! Take a slow lap, bring it in. You were unbelievable!”

The victory lap is a blur. Fans are on their feet. Your crew leans over the fences, cheering. You give a wave, still breathless. You can't stop cheering through the radio, turning the car into parc fermé.

By the time you pull into parc fermé, the spot where the top cars park post-race, you barely register the noise around you. You turn the engine off. The world goes quiet.

You climb onto your car, standing tall, fists pumping in the air. The crowd roars in response. You don’t take the helmet off yet. You just let the noise soak in, hands over your head. You jump off of the car, and head straight for your team. The noise is deafening, their happy cheers and chants as they celebrate this legendary win.

You did it.

———

Later, after the national anthem, after the champagne is sprayed and your race suit is soaked and sticky with victory and celebration, you make your way down the steps of the podium. You run your fingers through your hair. Hair stuck to your forehead, and wipe the sweat away with the back of your glove.

Jannik is waiting just off to the side, now wearing a pass around his neck and a smile that’s hard to miss.

“That was insane,” he says. “Seriously. I’ve watched a lot of races, but that finish-”

“You saw it?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“I waved the flag, remember? I had the best seat in the house.”

You chuckle, looking up at him. “You looked good up there.”

He gives you a modest shrug, but the blush on his cheeks betrays him. “I didn’t think you’d notice. You were kind of busy winning a race.”

You let the smile linger before tipping your head slightly.

“You coming to the afterparty?”

His brows lift slightly, as if surprised. “I didn’t think I was invited.”

You glance at him sideways, playful. “Well, consider this your invitation.”

There’s a beat. A pause in the chaos, the media, the photographers yelling for one last shot, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, sweaty and sunlit and still riding the high of the day.

He smiles and his eyes crinkle and you think you just might faint.

“Then I guess I’ll see you there.”

[sssunflowersmiles]

hiiiii :3 me again :3

what about matt with a gf who’s in another sport!! f1 perchance?? up to you but just a thought!!

Slay! I made her a Ferrari girl to match the rangers red!!

Ps requests for moodboards are open!

[galaxygurlll]

F1 Question

[mediocre-shark-tales]

THE ACCIDENT

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

33 pages or 12519 words later and I have finished this action packed emotional chapter to the story of Ghost. Please enjoy.

The past week had been a whirlwind of laughter, late nights, and the kind of deep, unshakable comfort that only my grid family could provide. After everything I had been through, it was exactly what I needed—a chance to breathe, to heal, and to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. And, surprisingly, I had gained one more friend along the way.

Max had spent the better part of the last month trying to convince me to finally let Charles Leclerc into my world—to let him meet me, the real me, not just the masked version he had only ever seen from a distance. I had resisted at first, hesitant to break down yet another carefully built wall. But Max had always been persistent, and in the end, I gave in.

The next day, Max showed up at my place with Charles in tow, looking far too pleased with himself. And Charles? The moment he saw me—really saw me—the shock on his face barely lasted two seconds before it was replaced by something else. Adoration. Amazement.

He had grinned, telling me how much he had already heard about me from Max, how he had hoped for a long time to forge a connection with me, even if he had never expected to see the person behind the helmet. And somehow, just like that, conversation flowed effortlessly between us. Hours passed in a blur of stories, jokes, and learning about each other in a way that felt both new and familiar at the same time.

At some point, without even realizing it, my family drama spilled out. The pain, the hurt, the anger I had carried for so long—it all came tumbling from my lips before I had the chance to stop it. I barely had time to regret it before Charles moved, wrapping me in a firm, reassuring hug.

He didn’t pretend to understand everything. He didn’t try to offer meaningless platitudes. Instead, he spoke with quiet honesty, telling me that while he might not know the pain of being rejected by his parents, he did understand the ache of loss. He knew what it was like to have someone who had supported you through every step of your career never get to see the dream come true—to race in Formula 1 without the one person who had always believed in you standing by the barriers, watching.

At that moment, I knew. Charles understood me. Just like the others, he too found something within me that he understood better than anyone else. 

And now, as I stepped out of my apartment, bag slung over my shoulder, ready for another race weekend, the weight I had been carrying for so long felt just a little lighter. My grid family was waiting. The paddock was calling.

—

The start of another race weekend always brought a familiar mix of excitement and nerves, the kind that settled deep in my chest like an old friend. But today, there was something else—something off. A strange unease sat awkwardly in my stomach, gnawing at the edges of my focus. I couldn’t quite place it, but I pushed it aside. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. This was the last weekend before the summer break, and I was determined to make the most of it.

As I strolled into the paddock, the usual swarm of media gathered behind their designated barriers, cameras clicking and rolling, capturing every moment. They never called out for me, never asked for a wave or a smile. With my face hidden behind the helmet, I was more of an enigma than a personality to them—just another image to add to their coverage. That suited me just fine.

I was making my way toward my garage when I heard my name being called from behind.

“GHOST! WAIT UP!”

I turned, already recognizing the voice before I saw him. Charles Leclerc jogged toward me, a bright smile on his face, and at his side trotted a small, energetic pup. My lips curled into a smile of my own—though, of course, he couldn’t see it.

Once he caught up, Charles beamed, gesturing toward the little ball of fur at his feet. “This is Leo,” he introduced. “I remember you mentioning getting an emotional support dog, so I thought you might like to meet him.”

I crouched down, offering my hand, and Leo wasted no time in bounding into my arms, his tiny tail wagging furiously as he sniffed every inch of me. I cooed at him, running a gentle hand over his soft fur, and he responded by attempting to climb into the oversized hood of my hoodie.

Charles chuckled, watching as Leo squirmed, determined to make himself comfortable. “If you do go through with getting one, I’d recommend a small breed—it’ll make traveling a lot easier.”

I nodded in agreement, still distracted by the little pup, who had now successfully wedged himself halfway into my hoodie.

A voice called for Charles from the Ferrari garage, drawing his attention. With a sigh, he reached out to scoop Leo back into his arms. “Well, good luck out there today. I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk more later.”

I gave him a nod in return, watching as he jogged off, Leo happily nestled against his chest.

Shaking off the lingering warmth of the moment, I turned on my heel and stepped into my own garage, ready to focus on the race ahead.

—

My heart pounded against my ribs as his car loomed closer in my mirrors, the unmistakable pink and blue livery flashing like a warning light in the distance. Every second, he gained on me, the threat creeping closer with each turn. I was on a cooldown lap, ready to box early and call it a day for FP1, but Jack wasn’t making it easy. From the moment this session had started, he’d been aggressive—dangerously so.

At first, I chalked it up to his usual reckless driving, but when Diego pointed out that Jack had only been pulling these moves around me, it became obvious—this wasn’t just aggression. This was personal. He was using me as a punching bag for whatever anger was eating away at him. At first, it was just frustrating, but as the session went on, frustration turned into real fear. He was playing with fire, and I was the one between him and the flames.

I stayed hyper-aware of his position, trying to predict his next move. As I approached the apex, I did everything right—I stayed predictable, held my line, and even gave him extra space to make sure I wasn’t in his way. But it didn’t matter. Jack veered wide—too wide—and cut straight back into my path.

I barely had time to react before the impact.

His front tire clipped the side of my car, sending a violent jolt through the chassis. My reflexes kicked in, hands tightening on the wheel as I fought to control the sudden instability. Instinct told me to pull off and avoid further damage, but the moment my tires hit the grass, the car betrayed me.

Everything went wrong in an instant.

The back end snapped loose, and before I could countersteer, the car spun—a brutal 180-degree turn sending me straight into the barriers. The impact rattled through me, a sickening crunch of carbon fiber breaking apart on contact. My head jerked forward before the harness caught me, and for a moment, all I could hear was my own rapid breathing over the crackling team radio.

“Ghost! Are you okay?” Diego’s voice was tense, bordering on frantic.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before letting out a frustrated sigh, my pulse still racing. “Yeah, I’m good,” I muttered, pressing the radio button. “But the car is definitely fucked. What the hell is he doing? Wasn’t I out of his way?” My voice came out sharp, edged with frustration and adrenaline.

A moment of silence. Then, Diego exhaled. “Yeah… you were. He just—” A pause. “Safety car is out. They’re ending the session early.”

I glanced at the damage. The front wing was completely destroyed, one of the rear tires had half-torn itself off the rim, and the sidepod looked like it had taken a serious beating. The chassis itself seemed intact, but it was going to be a long night for the mechanics.

The medical car arrived within minutes, pulling up beside me as marshals rushed to assess the wreckage. I unclipped my belts and carefully pulled myself out, stepping onto the grass. My hands trembled slightly—not from injury, just the aftermath of the crash settling in.

“You alright?” One of the medics asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my jaw was tight with irritation.

“Protocol,” he reminded me with a small, knowing smile. “Hop in. We’ll take you back to your garage.”

With a sigh, I climbed into the medical car, watching through the window as the marshals began lifting my wrecked car onto a recovery truck. In the distance, Jack’s car cruised slowly back to the pits, untouched.

Coward.

As we pulled away, I clenched my fists. If he wanted to make this personal, then fine. But he was about to learn that I didn’t go down without a fight.

When I stepped back into the garage, the tension in the air was thick. The entire crew was hard at work assessing the wrecked car, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. The sight made my stomach twist—this wasn’t how I wanted FP1 to end.

Before I could dwell on it, Nico and Diego appeared at my side, their faces unreadable. Without a word, they gestured for me to follow them. I obliged, letting them lead me to a private meeting room tucked away from prying eyes. The moment the door shut behind us, I finally let out a breath and pulled off my helmet, running a hand through my hair to fix the inevitable mess.

Nico didn’t waste any time. “The damage is bad,” he started, his tone serious. “The team thinks they can have it fixed by FP3, but that means you’ll be sitting out of FP2.”

I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. “Yeah… I figured as much.” It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than missing the entire weekend. After a beat, I straightened up. “Make sure the crew knows how much I appreciate them. Actually, Nico—can we get them a couple of packs of energy drinks tonight? They’re going to need it.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll have someone pick some up and bring them in.”

I returned his smile with a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Diego cleared his throat. “You can change into something more comfortable for now,” he said, then added, “but you’ll need to handle media duties before you head out.”

I groaned internally but nodded. “Figured. Alright, I’ll be quick.”

With that, I slipped my helmet back on, masking any lingering frustration before heading off to my driver’s room to swap into something more comfortable. If I had to deal with the press, I might as well be cozy while doing it.

Hearing Jack’s words after the crash felt like a knife twisting in my chest. He stood just a few feet away, his voice dripping with venom as he dismissed the incident like it was nothing.

"Ghost should’ve just stayed out of my way."

"It’s not my fault he didn’t move over enough."

Each word hit harder than the impact itself. I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. Killing them with kindness had always been my motto, but even I had my limits.

When the interviewer finally turned to me, asking for my thoughts on the incident, I decided I wasn’t going to sugarcoat the truth.

“Well,” I started, keeping my tone even but firm. “I don’t know why Doohan chose to be that aggressive every time he caught up to me. I was on a cooldown lap, heading back to the pits, and my line for the entire lap was as far out of the way as possible. Honestly, I was watching my mirrors more than I was looking forward. I know what it’s like to lose a solid lap because someone doesn’t move over in time, and I would never want to do that to another driver.”

I let my words settle before continuing, my voice steady. “You can ask anyone else who passed me during that stint—I was as far out of the way as I could be without putting the car in the grass. So if Jack thinks I had more room to move over safely, maybe he should start petitioning for wider tracks.”

The interviewer, clearly taken aback, nodded and thanked me for my time. I gave a polite nod before walking away, finally finished with media duties for the day.

As soon as I was out of sight, I let out a slow breath, shaking off the tension that had built up in my shoulders. It had been a long, frustrating day, but at least now, I could head back to the hotel and regroup before tomorrow.

—

FP3 had gone smoothly, a much-needed turnaround after yesterday’s chaos. I laid down solid lap times, and, for once, Jack wasn’t driving like he had a personal vendetta against me. I could only assume his team had given him a firm talking-to—after all, taking a three-place grid drop for his reckless move in FP1 wasn’t something they’d let slide. Either way, I was content to leave the incident in the past and focus on the weekend ahead.

With my confidence in the car restored, I headed into qualifying feeling optimistic. Franco and I had a bet going—whoever qualified lower had to buy dinner and host movie night. It was our usual back-and-forth competition, something to keep things light before the intensity of race day.

Q1 was a breeze for both of us, and while Franco had a bit of a fight to make it through Q2, we both lined up for the final session, ready to push. In the end, I secured P8, with Franco just ahead in P7. That meant dinner was on me, and my hotel room was the designated movie night spot. Typical.

After wrapping up media duties and a quick debrief with the team, I finally made it back to my hotel room, kicking off my shoes with a sigh. I sent Franco a quick text letting him know the door would be open when he got there, then flopped onto the bed, stretching out for a moment of quiet before he arrived.

Just as I was about to scroll through the dinner options, my phone buzzed. An incoming call.

I frowned, sitting up as I glanced at the name on the screen.

Something about it made my stomach twist only for it to drop when I saw the name. JACK

The moment I saw Jack’s name on my phone screen, I knew answering would be a mistake. But against my better judgment, I swiped to accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear with a sigh.

Before I could even get a word out, his voice exploded through the speaker.

"Can you believe that idiot Ghost?" he spat, his anger practically crackling through the line. "Thinks he’s better than me? Acts like some saint when really they’re just a coward hiding behind a helmet! And now I get a three-place grid drop because of them? Unbelievable! Like, maybe if they actually knew how to drive, I wouldn't have had to force my way past! But no, of course, it’s my fault—because Ghost is some kind of untouchable mystery driver who everyone just loves to defend!"

I stayed silent, my grip tightening on the phone as his rant continued. He didn’t even pause, too caught up in his own fury to notice that I hadn’t said a single word.

"You’d think the FIA would actually do their jobs for once, but no. Instead, I get the penalty. Ghost gets to play the victim. It’s so goddamn rigged! And you know what’s worse? I bet they don’t even care! Probably just sitting in their fancy hotel room, celebrating like they’re some kind of hero—”

My jaw clenched. My fingers curled so tightly around the phone I thought it might snap in half. He just kept going.

Jack, my brother, was raging about me. Trashing me. Humiliating me without even realizing I was the one on the other end of the line.

And the worst part? He thought I was his ally in all of this.

I bit my tongue, forcing myself to stay quiet, but my patience was razor-thin. Each passing second only fanned the flames of my fury.

Then, as if finally sensing the shift, he hesitated. The ranting stopped.

"...Why are you so quiet?" His voice was softer now, cautious before sighing. "Are you still upset about two weeks ago? I thought we were siblings. Siblings don’t hold grudges."

That was it. That was my breaking point.

I exhaled sharply, my voice like ice. "Maybe one day, you’ll look in a fucking mirror and realize how stupid you are."

Silence. A stunned pause on his end.

Then, before he could say another word, I hung up.

I stared at my phone for a long moment before opening his contact and hitting mute.

No more. Not tonight. Not ever if I had it my way.

—-

The paddock buzzed with energy, the excited chatter of fans blending with the occasional roar of an engine being fired up in the distance. I waved at the crowds as our parade trailer slowly rolled along the track, the air electric with anticipation for race day.

"Hey, Ghost, wanted to chat with you for a moment."

I turned from the waving fans to find a familiar set of piercing blue eyes watching me with quiet concern. Max Verstappen leaned casually against the railing of the trailer, his expression softer than usual.

"Hey, Max," I greeted, my voice slightly muffled through my helmet. "What's up?"

He smirked, but there was a weight behind it, something more serious lingering in his gaze. "Well, I just thought I’d check in," he said, shifting to fully face me. "Seeing as a certain someone has been attacking your character to the press. Normally, I’d say you can handle it, but given that this person is… close to your heart, I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Or if you need some advice."

I stiffened slightly but exhaled, forcing my shoulders to relax. "Appreciate it, but I’m fine," I replied, though I wasn't even sure if I fully believed that.

Max gave me a look—one that made it clear he wasn’t buying my deflection for a second. "Ghost," he said, voice firm but kind, "I know what it's like to have people twist the truth about you. I also know that when it's someone you care about doing it, it hits differently."

I stayed quiet, gripping the railing tighter as I watched the crowd. The fans had no idea that under my baggy hoodie and helmet, I was barely holding my frustration together.

"Look, I had my fair share of bad press, people calling me aggressive, reckless, a bad teammate—" he paused, smirking slightly, "—which, okay, sometimes I was."

I let out a short laugh despite myself.

"But when people you trust go out of their way to turn others against you? That’s a different kind of pain," he continued, voice quieter now. "You have to remind yourself of who you are, not who they’re trying to make you out to be."

I clenched my jaw. "And what if they don’t stop?"

Max shrugged. "Then you prove them wrong. Not by explaining yourself to them—people like that don’t listen. You prove them wrong by continuing to be who you are and letting your results speak for themselves. You’re here because you earned it. Don’t let someone else's bitterness make you forget that."

I swallowed hard, Max’s words sinking in deeper than I expected.

Before I could respond, another voice chimed in.

"Max giving wisdom? That’s new," Charles teased, leaning onto the trailer railing beside us, his usual easygoing grin in place.

Max rolled his eyes. "I can be wise when necessary."

Charles chuckled but turned to me with the same concern Max had. "Ghost, I was going to come find you after this. Have you seen what Jack has been saying?"

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. I’ve seen it."

Charles sighed, shaking his head. "It’s one thing when the media twists things, but when it’s family…" His expression darkened for a moment, as if recalling something from his past. "That’s a wound that doesn’t heal so easily."

I looked between them, both championship-winning drivers who had dealt with pressure, scrutiny, and the weight of expectations. "So what do I do? Just ignore it?"

Charles hummed in thought. "Sometimes, yes. Not every battle is worth fighting, especially when the other person only wants to provoke you. But…" He gave me a knowing look. "I also know you, Ghost. You want to say something. Which you did yesterday, but I am sure you want to say a lot more than just that."

I crossed my arms, exhaling through my nose. "I do. But I don’t want to make it worse. I just… I want to make it stop."

Max nudged my shoulder lightly. "Then make sure that when you do speak, it’s on your terms. Don’t react in anger. Take your time, think it through, and when you do respond—make sure it’s something you won’t regret later."

Charles nodded in agreement. "And don’t forget, you have people who will stand by you no matter what. You’re not alone in this, even if it feels like it in the moment.”

I let their words settle, the weight on my chest feeling just a little lighter. They were right. The best thing I could do was stay true to myself and let my driving do the talking. But if Jack thought I was going to just roll over and let him tarnish my name without consequence, he had another thing coming.

—

The race had been a brutal test of endurance, but I had thrived in it, clawing my way up from P8 to P6. Every lap had been a battle, and I had relished it. Racing Franco for P5 had been exhilarating—a test of skill, trust, and sheer determination. We had fought hard, pushing each other to the limits, but never crossing that dangerous line. It was a dance we had perfected over the years—close, competitive, and always respectful. I had giggled at one point, the thrill of our fight lighting a fire in me. This was what racing was meant to be.

But now, that moment felt like a lifetime ago.

I had finally broken through, leaving Franco behind, and my next target had been Pierre in P4. It wasn’t often I got to fight with him this high up the grid, and I had been determined to make it count. Lap after lap, I studied his lines, looking for an opening. I found it—a tiny window of opportunity he left open at the same corner each time.

So, I went for it.

The overtake was clean, precise. For a fleeting second, I was ahead, the rush of success surging through me. But Pierre wasn’t ready to give up. He fought back, pushing for the racing line, and that’s when everything went wrong.

A flash of movement.

His rear right tire clipped my front left.

Then—impact.

A sickening pop, followed by a deep, gut-wrenching crunch.

The world twisted violently. My stomach dropped as the front of my car lifted. For a split second, I thought I could save it, but then—

The wind caught me.

I was airborne.

The first flip knocked the air from my lungs, my body slamming against the seat as the car pitched sideways. Sky. Track. Sky. Track. The violent rotations blurred my vision as my body smashed against the cockpit walls. The sounds were deafening—metal shrieking, carbon fiber shattering, the deep thuds of impact every time the car hit the ground.

I lost count of how many times I flipped.

Then, the final slam.

The car landed hard on its back, skidding across the track before it slammed into the barrier with a force that rattled my bones. Pain exploded across my chest where the harness had dug in, my body jerked forward and then snapped back into the seat. My head bounced off the padding, my vision swimming. I hung from the seatbelt like meat being processed in a butcher shop. 

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion rattled through my entire body. The car shuddered as flames erupted from the rear.

Heat.

Sudden. Overwhelming.

The cockpit was hot—scalding, suffocating. The smell of burning fuel filled my lungs, thick and choking. A deep, primal terror gripped me.

I had to get out.

My hands fumbled with the seatbelts, my fingers shaking uncontrollably. I yanked at the latch—one side came undone immediately. Relief. But the second—

Stuck.

I pulled again. Nothing.

Panic surged through me, my heart slamming against my ribs. Smoke curled into the cockpit, searing my throat, making my eyes water. My exits were vanishing. The fire spread fast, licking at the sides of the car, hungrily devouring everything in its path.

No. No. No.

I pulled harder, desperation making my movements frantic. The flames were right there, creeping over the halo, licking at the bodywork. The car was turning into a furnace, the heat pressing against me, making my suit stick to my sweating skin.

Move. MOVE.

I screamed as I pulled one last time—

POP.

A white-hot pain tore through my shoulder as something gave. I didn’t have time to process it. I tumbled forward, crashing awkwardly into the side of the cockpit.

No time to think. No time to feel.

I twisted my legs out from under the halo, flipping onto my stomach, dragging myself toward the jagged opening in the barrier. Every movement sent agony shooting through my body, but I couldn’t stop. I refused to stop.

Then—pain.

A sharp, searing sting tore through my collarbone as the fabric of my suit snagged on the metal. I gasped, feeling the warm trickle of blood soaking into the material.

Then—another explosion.

The fire surged forward, wrapping around the car like a beast hunting its prey. Heat clawed at my back, almost burning through my suit.

And then—white.

A cloud of fire extinguisher foam engulfed me, cool relief against the unbearable heat. Hands grabbed at me, pulling me away from the wreckage, urgent voices shouting orders I couldn’t process.

I was out.

The moment my body collapsed onto the ground, my limbs refused to move. Every nerve in my body screamed. I sucked in greedy gasps of air, my lungs burning, my heart slamming in my chest like a war drum.

A voice—calm, steady—cut through the chaos.

“Ghost, listen to me. I know you need to keep your identity hidden, so don’t worry. Your team made sure all medical staff under contract signed an NDA for you.”

I barely nodded, my mind still trapped in the fire, the flips, the terror.

I had made it out.

The next few minutes blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and pain, my body caught in the slow, agonizing descent from the high of racing adrenaline into something I would later call borderline pure agony. The fire, the crash, the desperate scramble to escape—it had all been chaos, and now my body was beginning to process just how much damage had been done. Every nerve felt raw, every breath was a struggle against the tightness in my chest.

The medical team worked quickly, their voices sharp and urgent as they carried me through the paddock toward the medical room. The bright fluorescent lights above me blurred and streaked, my head pounding with each bounce of the stretcher. The once-distant ache was now creeping up, turning into sharp, searing pain in places I hadn’t even realized were injured.

As they rolled me into the sterile white room, my gaze flickered toward the doorway, where I caught sight of two familiar figures—Nico and Diego. Their faces were twisted in worry, their brows furrowed, their jaws tight. They stood firm, blocking the entrance, as if shielding me from whatever outside world lay beyond this moment. My stomach twisted. I hated that look—the mixture of helplessness and fear in their eyes. I wanted to tell them I was fine, that I’d survived worse. But the truth was, I wasn’t sure if this wasn’t worse.

The gurney came to an abrupt stop, and suddenly, the room exploded into movement. Medics swarmed around me, hands pressing, prodding, assessing. The air smelled like antiseptic and burnt fabric. I barely had time to process any of it before a voice cut through the noise.

“Shit, there's a lot of blood.”

The words sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

“Okay, the suit has to come off, Y/N. We’re cutting the top for now,” a female medic informed me, her voice steady but urgent.

I barely had the strength to respond. A half-formed groan of acknowledgment left my lips, and within seconds, I heard the distinct snip, snip, snip of scissors slicing through my race suit. The fabric peeled away from my skin, and a sharp chill rushed over me. The cold was jarring, but it was nothing compared to what happened next.

The medic closest to me stiffened.

Her expression, previously neutral and professional, faltered. A flicker of something—shock, concern—passed over her features before she quickly masked it, returning to her clinical demeanor. But I saw it. I saw it.

Panic clawed at my ribs.

“What—what is it?” My voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pressed a thick towel to my shoulder, right where the fabric had been sticking to my skin.

Pain—searing, white-hot, like fire ripping through my collarbone. I sucked in a sharp breath, my back arching involuntarily as the wound protested violently.

Then, another sound—pop.

Agony.

A scream tore from my throat before I even understood what had happened.

The pain was unlike anything I had felt before, radiating outward, setting every nerve ending alight. My vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges as I struggled to stay present. The sickening realization hit me a second later—someone had just popped my shoulder back into place without warning.

I gasped, choking on the pain, my body trembling as the intensity of it all became too much.

Everything around me started to fade.

The room became distant, the voices blending into a low hum. The fluorescent lights above blurred further, melting into streaks of white nothingness. The pain was unbearable, suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake. My body felt disconnected, floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. I was slipping, sinking into the haze, letting it pull me under where the pain couldn’t reach.

But then—

A touch.

Soft. Steady. Grounding.

Fingers curled around my own, warm and gentle amidst the chaos.

My mind fought against the fog, instincts taking over as my fingers twitched, responding to the quiet comfort being offered.

Slowly, as if emerging from deep water, I forced my eyes open, my vision swimming before it sharpened—

Chocolate brown eyes.

Familiar. Safe.

Framed by soft, unruly curls.

I blinked, trying to focus, to cling to the one thing in this moment that wasn’t pain or fear or agony.

Next to me stood a worry-riddled Kimi, his thumb rubbing over the back of my knuckles as his other hand came up fully cup mine. His grip was steady—warm, grounding—but I could still feel the faintest tremble in his fingers. He only glanced at the rest of me once, his eyes flickering down my body before settling back on my face. Nothing in his expression changed, but I could see it in his eyes—the weight of everything he had seen, the helplessness, the fear.

That was when I started to notice the differences since I had slipped into that daze.

I wasn’t lying down anymore—I was propped up on the cot, a dull ache radiating from every inch of me. The medics were gone. In their place stood a silent wall of figures, their presence heavy with the kind of emotion that lingered in the air long after words had been spoken. Max, Ollie, Charles, Oscar, Lando, Franco. Each of them stood like an unbreakable barrier, shielding me from something unseen, something I had already endured but they still hadn’t let go of.

Their faces told me everything before they even spoke.

I dropped my gaze to my own body, suddenly understanding why they were looking at me like that. My race suit was gone. In its place, I wore a pair of soft shorts, my upper body wrapped tightly in elastic bandages. Gauze was pressed to my collarbone on one side white the bandages held my shoulder in place on the other, a stark reminder of what had happened. Small cuts littered my skin, angry red patches of burn-kissed skin peeking out beneath layers of bandages and burn cream. My legs were bruised in shades of deep purple and sickly yellow, the worst of them disappearing beneath the thick wrapping on my ribs.

I swallowed hard.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Lando broke the silence first, his voice unusually quiet, unusually small. He rubbed a hand over his face, the usual playfulness in his eyes replaced with something much heavier. “I—I saw the fire in my mirrors, but I didn’t know it was you until I came back around. I just saw…” His voice cracked for a moment before he forced himself to keep going. “I saw what was left of your car. I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if physically trying to rid himself of the thought.

Oscar, standing just beside him, nodded slowly, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was holding himself together. “Same here,” he admitted, his voice laced with guilt. “I saw the flames, and when I came back around, I saw them pulling someone out… I didn’t know if you’d made it.”

Max let out a slow, shaky breath. He wasn’t looking at me, his hands braced against his knees as he leaned forward. “I didn’t see you until I passed the wreckage,” he muttered. “I just saw—” His fingers clenched into fists. “Pieces. Pieces of your car. Then the red flag, and the radio silence.” He exhaled sharply, his usual confidence replaced with something raw. “I’ve never hated a race more than I did in that moment.”

I felt my chest tighten.

Then, Franco’s voice cut through the thick silence, soft but weighted with something deeper. “I saw all of it.”

I turned to look at him. His usual easy going demeanor was gone, replaced with something haunted.

“I was right behind you,” he continued, voice flat, distant. “I saw the car flip violently, saw you hit the barrier, saw the moment you stopped moving.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I thought—” He stopped, shaking his head. “No. I knew we were about to lose you.”

Kimi’s grip on my hand tightened slightly.

“I was behind too,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I saw it happen. All of it.” His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought it might break. “And I couldn’t do anything.”

I squeezed his hand, suddenly aware of just how much this had affected them, too. It wasn’t just my trauma. It was ours.

Ollie hadn’t spoken yet.

When I looked at him, his arms were wrapped tightly around himself, his eyes glassy but unreadable.

“I came up just as it exploded the first time,” he admitted, his voice thick. “I didn’t even think. I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I just needed to know if you were still alive. No one knew anything quick enough.”

My throat tightened.

He scrubbed a hand over his face before looking at me again. “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.” His voice broke slightly on my name. “We all thought—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “I don’t even want to say it.”

I looked at each of them, their faces still clouded with worry, fear, relief.

I had barely come to terms with my own pain, and yet they had been carrying their own version of it, watching from afar, unable to do anything but hope I would make it out alive.

The worst part?

I almost didn’t.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I’m here,” I whispered, my voice hoarse but steady. “I made it.”

Kimi squeezed my hand. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quieter than before. “But you almost didn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say because nothing could make this any better for any of us. 

Suddenly, the room erupted in chaos.

Shouting rang out from the hallway, sharp and venomous, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. The boys around me tensed, their bodies shifting instinctively to block me as the door burst open with a loud slam.

“Where the hell is he?” Jack’s voice was dripping with rage, laced with a venom that sent a shiver down my spine. “His stupid fucking move got Pierre disqualified, and I just have a few words to say to that asshole.”

I couldn’t see him past the wall of bodies in front of me, but I didn’t need to. I could picture him perfectly. Stiff posture, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles must have been white, shoulders squared as he scowled into the room like a predator ready to pounce. His teeth were probably bared in frustration, his nostrils flaring like an angered wolfdog locked onto its prey.

Max and Lando were the first to move. The second they stepped out of the wall, the rest of the boys quickly filled the gap, reinforcing the barrier between me and Jack.

“No, mate. You better get the hell out of here right now,” Max’s voice was low, edged with a quiet fury that sent a chill through the room. “This is not the time for you to spout this bullshit.”

Jack scoffed, taking a step forward. “Bullshit? Oh, I’m sorry, is it bullshit to want to call out the fucking idiot who just ruined another driver’s entire weekend? Is that bullshit to you, Verstappen?”

“Not here, Jack.” Lando’s voice was sharp, his usual easygoing nature nowhere to be found. “Not now.”

Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, not now? When then, huh? When he’s got another DNF on his record? When he’s wrecked another car? Maybe when he’s gotten someone else sent to the hospital?” His voice dripped with accusation. “Or would you rather I just pretend none of this happened? Like all of you are doing?”

Max took a dangerous step forward, his jaw clenched so tightly I swore I heard his teeth grind together. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Jack shot back, his voice rising in frustration. “I saw what happened. He didn’t give Pierre any fucking space. He—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lando snapped, shoving Jack back a step. “You weren’t in the car. You weren’t in the fight. You don’t know shit.”

Jack shoved him right back, his face twisting with rage. “And you’re just gonna defend him? You’re just gonna pretend like this wasn’t his fault?”

The shouting escalated, voices overlapping in a heated, messy blur. Jack wasn’t backing down, and neither were Max or Lando. Every argument, every shove, every sharp glare only added to the suffocating tension building in the room.

And I had had enough.

I took a deep breath and carefully moved my legs over the side of the cot. The second I tried to shift my weight, a sharp, searing pain shot through my ribs, my shoulder screaming in protest. I let out a quiet groan, my face twisting as I fought to steady myself.

Ollie and Kimi immediately turned to me, their eyes filled with worry.

“No, you shouldn’t move,” Ollie whispered urgently, stepping closer like he was ready to push me back down.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my expression calm but unwavering. “I need to speak to him.”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting in protest, but I spoke again before he could argue.

“I need to stand my ground,” I said firmly. “Just let me say my piece. Then I’ll come back to the bed. I promise. I can do this.”

Kimi and Ollie exchanged a worried glance, silent words passing between them in the brief moment before they reluctantly nodded. They stepped aside just enough to let me move, though I could still feel their hands hovering close, ready to catch me if I faltered.

My body screamed in protest as I forced myself to my feet. The world tilted slightly, my vision blurring at the edges, but I clenched my jaw and fought through it. Pain flared like fire beneath my skin, radiating through my ribs, my collarbone, my legs—but I stood. I held my ground.

Slowly, I took one agonizing step forward, then another, until I reached the backs of Oscar, Franco, and Charles. They were still blocking me from view, still shielding me, but I was there. Close enough.

The argument continued, Jack’s voice still filled with venom, Max and Lando still fighting to shove him out.

Enough.

I inhaled sharply.

Then, with every ounce of strength I had left, I yelled.

“JACK. SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Silence.

The room went still, the tension shifting in an instant. Jack froze mid-argument, his mouth half-open as he turned toward the sound of my voice.

Slowly, the boys in front of me stepped aside.

And there I stood.

Injured, aching, barely staying upright—but standing. My entire body screamed in pain, my muscles trembling under the weight of my own stubbornness, but none of it mattered.

Because the moment Jack’s eyes landed on me, the fury in his expression shattered into something else entirely.

Shock.

Guilt.

Horror.

And beneath all of that?

The realization that he had just been screaming about the barely standing wreck of the person who had survived the worst crash of the season. That same person being his little sister.

And I was pissed.

"This is between us, Jack. Not them. Us.” My voice was sharp, unwavering, carrying the weight of years of unspoken words. “So you don’t get to yell at them. You can yell at me. You can do whatever the hell you need to do. But before you start—” I took a slow, steady step forward, my muscles screaming in protest, “—give me a damn minute to say my own piece.”

I stared him down, eyes locked onto his like a challenge, daring him to interrupt me.

Jack, for once, was silent.

He was still frozen in place, his face contorted in frustration and disbelief, but his lips were slightly parted, his brain scrambling to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Then, like something inside him snapped back into place, he shook his head and scoffed. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice wasn’t as sharp as before, but the venom was still there, barely masked beneath his confusion. “Why are you a racer? Is this why Mom and Dad are so pissed off lately? Did you piss them off again?”

His words were like a match to gasoline.

Rage flared inside me, burning white-hot as my fingers curled into tight fists at my sides. Again. He said it like I was some unruly child constantly causing trouble, like I chose to be a disappointment, like it was my fault our parents’ anger always found a target in me.

“It must be real nice to stand here and judge me.” My voice was lower now, seething, dripping with all the fury I had swallowed down for years. “To yell at me for this. Because god knows I’d never get the same opportunity.”

I took another step forward, forcing myself to push through the pain. My finger jabbed into his chest, punctuating every word.

“I have spent eighteen goddamn years as the family pawn. And the reject when I wasn’t playing the perfect little future bride.” My lip curled, my voice shaking—not with weakness, but with the sheer force of the rage threatening to boil over. “You wouldn’t know what that’s like, would you? Because you were born with everything you wanted at arm’s reach. Silver Spoon on a sparkling silver plate.”

Jack’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered—hesitation, confusion, something cracking behind the shield of anger he had thrown up.

But he doubled down. Because he had to.

“How could you keep this from me?” His voice was tight now, anger still fueling his words, but there was something else—something desperate. “I thought we were siblings.” His fists clenched, his body tense like he was trying to hold himself together. “Siblings don’t keep secrets like this from each other!”

A bitter laugh ripped from my throat.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” I spat. “You know what else siblings don’t do? They don’t sit there cracking jokes while their parents so obviously strip away their choices in life.”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to argue, but I wasn’t done.

“Remember that night I left?” My voice was colder now, sharp enough to cut through whatever weak excuses he was scrambling for. “Remember when I took all my keepsakes with me? After the last date?”

Jack’s entire body went rigid. I could see the realization setting in, the pieces finally connecting in his head.

“Well, that night—” My voice wavered, but I forced myself to push through it, to make him hear it. “That disgusting man assaulted me.”

Jack flinched.

“And I did not trust your ass enough to talk about it.” I took a shaky breath, my chest aching in more ways than one. “The boys behind me? They were the only reason I even survived after everything all three of those suitors put me through.”

Jack was frozen.

His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling in shaky bursts as he processed what I had just said. I could see his anger faltering now, something breaking beneath it.

Guilt.

Regret.

A horrible, dawning realization that maybe—just maybe—he had been on the wrong side of this fight for far longer than he wanted to admit.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as I took a slow step back, putting distance between us. My eyes raked over him—the sweat-covered fireproofs, the race suit tied around his hips, the fact that he had come straight here from his car.

He had been so desperate to argue, so blinded by his own rage, that he hadn’t even stopped to think. He had come here expecting a fight.

Fine.

That’s what I’d give him.

“I miss the little sister from before all of this,” Jack murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, like the words might shatter if spoken too loudly. “Where did she go? The same sister who told me everything—even if it added nothing to the story.” His anger, which had burned so fiercely just moments ago, was fading rapidly, slipping through his fingers like sand.

I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. The bottled rage inside me, the fury I had buried under years of being unheard, was spilling over like a dam finally breaking.

“Well, Jack, the only thing you miss is someone else’s storyline.” My voice was laced with venom, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. “Because ninety percent of the time, I was just acting—playing the role Mom and Dad expected of me. The good girl. The perfect future bride. The obedient daughter.” I shook my head, laughing bitterly. “I bet you don’t even know the real me anymore.”

Jack inhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line, but I didn’t let him speak.

“You want to know what I did learn growing up?” My voice trembled, but not with weakness—with the sheer weight of what I was about to say. “No, scratch that. You want to know what was engraved into my goddamn soul?”

I took a step forward, close enough for him to see the storm raging behind my eyes.

“I will never be good enough for our parents.” The words burned like acid on my tongue, but I forced them out. “And maybe—just maybe—I was never good enough for you either.”

Jack flinched, and for a split second, I saw it. The crack in his armor. The flicker of pain he wasn’t quick enough to hide.

“Every inch of me wants to hate you for that,” I admitted, my voice shaking. “Every. Fucking. Inch. And that’s a problem, because if I hate you—really hate you—then I’ll have no one left. No one from my own blood to call family.”

His lips parted, his breath catching like he wanted to say something, anything, but no words came.

I exhaled sharply, my shoulders rising and falling as the fire inside me flickered, wavered, then steadied.

“But you know what?” My tone shifted, the rage melting into something steadier—stronger. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Because now, thanks to these guys—” I gestured toward the boys behind me, my chosen family, my real family, “—I don’t care if I’m enough for you, or Mick, or Selina.” I straightened my spine, the weight of my past lifting off my shoulders, even if just a little.

“Because I am enough for them.” My voice didn’t shake this time as I pointed to them. It was firm. Certain. True.

“And more importantly…” I took a slow, steady breath, the words feeling like a victory as they left my lips.

“I am enough for me.”

Jack stared at me, his entire body tense, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his jaw tightening like he was forcing himself to keep quiet because if he spoke, he might say something he couldn’t take back.

I held his gaze for a moment longer before I added, softer this time, “I want you to be my family, Jack. I want you to open your goddamn eyes and choose to be my family. But if you don’t?” I shrugged. “Then I’ll be okay.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, the weight of everything we had said—and everything we hadn’t—hanging in the air.

And then—

A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through me, like a thousand knives sinking into my body all at once.

My vision blurring as the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright vanished in an instant. The weight of my injuries crashed into me like a freight train, stealing the air from my lungs, choking me with its unbearable grip.

My knees buckled.

“Shit—” I barely registered the movement beside me before a strong arm shot out, catching me before I hit the ground.

Lando.

He was the closest. The fastest.

I turned my head toward him, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His face was a blur of worry and panic, his grip tightening around me as my body swayed.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt tight, my voice barely a whisper.

“Help, Lan—”

Before I could finish, the world tilted.

My body went limp, all strength draining from me in an instant.

Lando reacted fast, his arms locking around me, scooping me up into a bride’s carry before I could hit the floor.

I could hear the voices around me—worried, frantic, desperate—but they sounded distant, like I was hearing them from beneath deep water.

The shouting blurred together, overlapping in a mess of indistinguishable words.

Jack’s voice—Lando’s—others I couldn’t make out.

Bodies moved around me in a frenzy, panic thick in the air.

Then, through the haze, one word cut through the noise.

“Hospital.”

And then—

Blackness.

—

When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed, the soft beeping of a monitor filling the otherwise quiet room. My body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the dull ache of my injuries. I was still in the same clothes, though my bandages had been changed. Notably, the wrap around my chest had been replaced with one of my sports bras—revealing just how bad the damage truly was.

A long, angry line of red and stitches stretched from a few inches below my right collarbone up to the side of my neck, stopping just before the middle. My left shoulder had been immobilized in a sling, secured with a specialized attachment to ensure it healed correctly. Even though I had already felt the pain, seeing the extent of my injuries made them real in a way they hadn’t been before.

Shifting slightly, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on Nico, who was sprawled across a couple of chairs, dozing. Next to him sat a familiar duffel bag—mine—most likely filled with a change of clothes.

I carefully tried to sit up, only to hit a deep bruise on my ribs. A sharp, involuntary groan escaped me, loud enough to startle Nico awake.

He rubbed his face groggily before blinking himself back into full consciousness. As soon as his gaze landed on me, his expression shifted from drowsy to pure panic.

“Woah, woah, woah—Speedy, what the hell are you doing?” He shot up from his seat, rushing over before I could even think about swinging my legs off the bed.

I reached out and grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes locked onto mine, still filled to the brim with worry.

“I know that was probably scary,” I admitted softly. “And I’m not going to tell you not to worry. But right now, I really just want to get back into my clothes and—if possible—get discharged.”

I kept my tone calm, but there was a quiet desperation beneath it. I needed to get out of here. I needed normalcy.

Nico exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sighing in reluctant defeat. “Fine.” He grabbed my bag, handing it over before stepping back to give me space.

I managed to pull on a pair of sweatpants over my shorts and slipped into an oversized sweatshirt, though I could only get one arm through the sleeve. The sling on my left side made it impossible to move my shoulder enough to fit the other through.

Before I could even contemplate figuring it out myself, a soft knock at the door announced the arrival of a nurse.

“Here, sweetheart,” she said kindly as she stepped inside. “Let me help you get that last arm in so it’s not so uncomfortable.”

She worked carefully, undoing the sling and guiding my arm with practiced gentleness, making sure not to cause unnecessary pain. As she re-situated the support brace, she began explaining my recovery plan.

I listened half-heartedly at first, already knowing the basics—rest, pain management, taking it easy. But then she got to the part I had been dreading.

“So, you won’t be able to race for the next four weeks,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look. “That will give the fracture in your forearm time to heal, while also making sure we don’t aggravate your shoulder injury or risk tearing that nasty cut near your neck any further.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, the weight of her words settling uncomfortably in my chest.

“You’re lucky,” she continued, her voice a little softer. “That shoulder injury and the cut were just centimeters away from being much worse—either ending your season or… well, ending you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s a miracle, really.”

I forced a tight-lipped smile, unsure how to respond to that.

She pulled a small cart closer, stocked with an assortment of bags, medication bottles, and creams.

“For the next two weeks, I need you to really take it easy—no pushing limits, no testing your pain tolerance.” She gave me a knowing look. “After that, you can slowly start incorporating light training, but only if you follow up with a doctor once a week to monitor your shoulder’s progress.”

I nodded again, absorbing the information, though my mind was already racing ahead to how I could shorten the timeline.

Satisfied, she handed Nico a small package containing my medications and care supplies before giving me one final once-over. “Follow those guidelines, and you should be back behind the wheel soon enough.”

With that, she left, and Nico wasted no time helping me into a wheelchair.

As he pushed me toward the back exit of the hospital—away from prying eyes, cameras, and the inevitable media frenzy—I let my head rest against the seat, exhaustion settling in once more.

Four weeks.

I hated the thought.

But I was still here at least, still fighting.

“Well, I guess you’re lucky in one more way,” Nico muttered as he practically carried me to move me into the passenger seat. His grip was firm but careful, mindful of my injuries as he eased me into the car. “Good thing it’s the start of summer break. You’ll only miss one race—assuming your recovery actually is four weeks, like she said.”

He buckled me in before jogging around to the driver’s side. As we pulled away from the hospital, I finally checked the time. It had only been about 45 minutes since I was in the medical room back at the paddock. That meant the race was either close to restarting or had just begun.

I turned to Nico, already knowing I was about to push my luck.

“I know you’re not gonna like what I’m about to ask—”

“So don’t ask,” Nico cut me off instantly, his response quick and practiced, like he knew what was coming.

I pouted, making my eyes just a little sadder, just a little more pleading. He glanced at me during a red light, and I watched his resolve crack. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his temples.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “What is it?”

A victorious smile tugged at my lips, but I kept my voice soft. “I really want to go back to the paddock and support Franco. Just to watch. I promise I’ll follow any rules you want—any—as long as I can be there.”

Nico groaned like I had just asked him to commit a crime. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose before taking the next turn—away from the hotel.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded.

I barely had time to cheer before he held up a finger.

“BUT—you have to stay in the wheelchair and next to me at all times. The second I see you pushing yourself too hard, I get full authority to pull you out of there and take you straight back to the hotel. No arguments.”

I nodded rapidly, raising my hand like I was swearing an oath. “I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

“Jesus, okay—no need for dramatics, that is not the image I needed after the events of today.” he muttered, shaking his head as he merged onto the main road leading back to the circuit.

As we neared the paddock, he reached into the backseat and pulled out a familiar helmet. Well, almost familiar.

It was one of my backup helmets, repainted in the official Cadillac Racing colors. A deep, glossy black with electric blue and white accents, matching the team’s livery. Unlike my usual helmet, which had personalized flourishes, this one was purposefully simple—a disguise, meant for situations where I needed to be more anonymous in the paddock. Though I am sure being the only person constantly wearing a helmet wont change the amount that crowd me just by changing a helmet design.

I took it from him, running my fingers over the sleek surface.

“You’ll want this,” Nico said, watching me carefully. “It’s got your voice changer, so you’ll still sound like what they expect.”

A small smile formed on my lips as I turned the helmet over in my hands. It wasn’t my usual one, but it still felt right.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

Nico just sighed again, clearly resigning himself to whatever chaos was about to unfold.

With my helmet secured, we drove past the main entrance, heading toward the private back entrance meant for teams and VIPs. The paddock was just ahead.

—

I had successfully been rolled all the way into the garage without any media swarming me. Still, I had been noticed. The first TV screen I spotted, displaying the live broadcast, suddenly cut to a shot of me sitting in the wheelchair.

I smirked, easily finding the nearest camera and giving a little wave with my free arm.

Behind me, Nico leaned on the handles of the chair, his sharp eyes scanning the area like a lifeguard on duty. He was assessing, calculating—clearly trying to figure out the best way to keep me out of the growing crowd of cameras and curious onlookers.

He let out a low sigh. “Diego,” he called, motioning to one of the engineers. “Keep an eye on them. I need to figure something out.”

Diego nodded, stepping in as Nico disappeared into the mass of people.

While I waited, several mechanics and team members took turns coming over to check on me.

“You scared the hell out of us, you know that?” one of them said, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well,” I shrugged, “I do like to keep you all on your toes.”

A few chuckled, shaking their heads, but there was a real warmth in the way they spoke to me. Even though we rarely talked outside the paddock, their concern felt genuine. It was sweet.

That moment of peace didn’t last long. Nico returned, gripping the wheelchair handles with renewed determination.

“You’re gonna sit with Nicolas on the pit wall,” he announced, already steering me toward the garage exit. “You can help provide feedback on how the car felt this weekend so he can adjust Franco’s strategy accordingly.”

I blinked up at him, then grinned. Honestly? This was probably the best outcome I could’ve hoped for.

The pit wall meant limited access for reporters—no microphones shoved in my face, no overwhelming crowds. Just a few cameras every now and then, but nothing compared to being in the garage.

With a quick wave from one of the officials, Nico began speed-walking me across the pit lane. He was all business, keeping his focus on getting me across safely, while I just enjoyed the brief moment of fresh air and the rumble of engines.

We made it to the pit wall without any trouble. An official held onto my wheelchair while Nico scooped me up and placed me into the open seat next to Nicolas. The strategist gave me a small smile as I got settled.

“Good to have you here,” Nicolas said, adjusting his headset.

“Good to be here,” I replied.

Nico made sure my chair was secured against the barrier before stepping back. With everything in place, I turned my attention to the screens in front of me.

The race was fully underway, and Franco was holding a solid position, but I could already see where he might struggle. I leaned toward Nicolas, watching the sector times flash on the monitor.

“He’s losing time in Sector 2,” I murmured, analyzing the data. “Looks like he’s being a little too cautious on entry into Turn 9. He’s losing momentum going into the straight.”

Nicolas nodded, relaying the information through his headset. A few seconds later, Franco adjusted his line.

“Better,” I said. “But tell him to trust the rear more—there’s more grip than he thinks, and he can afford to carry more speed.”

Again, Nicolas repeated my advice, and once more, Franco adjusted.

I grinned as his sector times improved.

For the next few laps, this routine continued. I’d analyze, Nicolas would relay, Franco would execute. It was working—his lap times were consistently dropping.

Then, during a lull in the radio communications, Nicolas suddenly reached down and unplugged his mic. Before I could ask what he was doing, he took the cable and connected it to the jack at the bottom of my helmet.

I blinked at him in surprise.

The mic jack was technically there for media purposes, so recordings could be easily captured for team content. But this? This was definitely an alternative use.

“Go ahead,” Nicolas murmured with a small smirk.

I hesitated for a second, then took a deep breath.

“Franco?” I said into the mic, my voice still modulated by the voice changer.

There was a brief pause before Franco’s voice came through my headset, startled.

“Wait—what?!” He sounded confused. “Nicolas, why does your voice sound different—wait, hold on, is that— Ghost? ¡Ay, Dios mío! I was so worried about you, are—

I cut him off before he could get too carried away.

“You can talk to me like this after you finish this race, Franco,” I said, keeping my tone firm but light. “Right now, let’s focus on getting you on that podium, right?”

There was silence for a beat. Then, Franco let out a breath, his voice settling into something more determined.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

For the rest of the race, I fed Franco a steady stream of advice, guiding him through each corner, each braking zone, each opportunity to gain a position. I pointed out where he needed to be patient and where he could push, where to watch for openings and when to strike. With every lap, he climbed the ranks, his confidence growing with each overtaking move.

By the time the checkered flag waved, he had secured P3—his first podium of the season.

The second he crossed the line, I let out a cheer, raising a fist in excitement.

“YES, FRANCO! ¡Tú eres el ganador!”

His laugh crackled through the radio, light and relieved. “I didn’t know you knew Spanish?”

I chuckled. “I thought I might as well learn some for my teammate.”

There was warmth in his voice when he replied, “I appreciate it, compañero.”

Nico leaned down to help me disconnect from the radio as Nicolas plugged himself back in, taking over to guide Franco into parc fermé. Within a minute, I was back in the wheelchair, rolling toward the main barricade where the team would gather to watch the podium ceremony.

As I sat off to the side, I watched the drivers filter through, those who hadn’t made the podium making their way back to their garages. Some stopped to check in on me, giving me nods of encouragement or quick words of support.

“Hope you recover quickly,” Esteban said.

“You’re tougher than half of us out here,” Lewis added.

I smiled and thanked them, appreciating the camaraderie. Even though we were competitors on track, moments like this reminded me that the paddock was still a family.

Then, Jack walked by. He didn’t stop. He didn’t say a word.

But his eyes—those sad, almost guilty eyes—lingered on me for a second too long before he turned away and kept walking.

I swallowed down the tightness in my chest, pushing the moment aside as the sound of hurried footsteps and familiar voices filled the air.

“Ghost!”

Before I knew it, Kimi and Ollie were kneeling in front of me, both of them looking at me like I had just walked away from a near-death experience.

Kimi’s hand landed gently on my knee, his grip firm but comforting. Ollie, on the other hand, slid his fingers into mine, holding my hand as if reassuring himself that I was actually here, actually okay.

“God, I am so glad to see you around and moving like this,” Ollie whispered, his voice unsteady.

“You scared us when you passed out like that, tesoro,” Kimi added, his Italian accent thick with concern.

I felt my face flush at the pet name. Tesoro—something lovers would call each other in italy.

Thank fuck they couldn’t see my face right now, or I’d never hear the end of their teasing.

I cleared my throat, trying to keep my composure. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m only out for four weeks, which means I’ll only miss one race. That’s it.”

They didn’t look convinced, but I pressed on. “If you want, we can plan another hangout during the break. Maybe go somewhere nice together so you can see just how okay I am.”

That got them to smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ollie said, giving my hand a light squeeze before they were both pulled away by their respective teams.

Just as I exhaled, thinking I had a moment to breathe, another voice called out to me.

“Hey, there you are.”

I looked up to see Oscar approaching, hands tucked into the pockets of his race suit, his usual calm demeanor softened with concern.

I smiled. “You found me.”

He chuckled, crouching down beside me so we were at eye level. “How are you really feeling?”

I sighed. “Sore, but fine. I’ll survive.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded toward the paddock. “You staying home during the break?”

I shrugged. “For now, yeah. Haven’t thought too far ahead. But I did just tell Kimi and Ollie I would travel with them if they wanted. No official plans yet.”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “if you need anything—help getting around, groceries, someone to hang out with when you get bored—I’m around.”

I raised a brow. “Offering to be my personal chauffeur, Piastri?”

He smirked. “Only if you say please.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He patted the armrest of my wheelchair lightly before standing up. “Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t push too hard.”

I gave him a mock salute. “No promises.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but smiled before heading off.

I looked back just as Franco pulled up, his car rolling to a stop beside Max and Lando in parc fermé. The second the engines cut off, Lando was already pulling off his steering wheel, leaning over to say something to Max as the two laughed, completely unaware of my presence.

Franco, however, was different.

The moment he removed his helmet, his eyes scanned the crowd, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he searched for me. His face fell slightly when he didn’t spot me among the team, his brows furrowing in concern. But then, finally, his gaze locked onto me, sitting just away from the main group, tucked off to the side in the wheelchair.

For a moment, I thought I saw worry flicker across his face—maybe at the sight of the chair, maybe at how distant I was from the usual celebration—but it was quickly replaced by relief, his lips curling into a wide, teary-eyed smile.

“GHOST!”

His voice rang through the air, cutting through the noise of parc fermé and drawing the attention of nearly everyone around.

Before I could even brace myself, he was bolting toward me, nearly tripping over himself in his rush. He skidded to a stop just before reaching me, clearly trying to slow himself down so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt me. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of me, hands hovering as if he wanted to hold me but was too scared of causing me any pain.

I chuckled, shaking my head at his dramatics. “I’m fine, Franco.”

But he wasn’t convinced. His hands finally settled gently on my arms as his eyes roamed over me, taking in every detail—every bandage, every bruise, every sign that I wasn’t at full strength.

“Do you feel any pain right now? What was the worst injury you got?” he asked, his voice quieter now, still thick with emotion.

Before I could answer, two more sets of footsteps pounded against the pavement.

“The fuck?”

I glanced up just in time to see Lando and Max rushing over, both of their faces a mix of shock and concern.

“You came back to the paddock after all that?” Lando asked, staring at me like I had just materialized out of thin air. “Why would you do that?”

Max, on the other hand, looked downright unimpressed. “You are injured, why would you come back to the scene of it all?”

I shrugged. “I wanted to watch the race and support my family. I didn’t really want to catch any attention to risk getting even more hurt though.”

Max gestured vaguely toward Franco, who was still kneeling in front of me, practically vibrating with emotions. “Yeah. That worked out well.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could argue, Lando crouched beside Franco, looking me over just as intently.

“Are you sure you're okay to be here?” he asked, softer this time, the teasing gone.

I sighed. “I’m sore, but I’m okay. Just stuck in this thing for a while.” I pointed at the sling around my arm.  Lando frowned, but he nodded. “Well, at least you’re here.”

Max, who had been standing with his arms crossed, suddenly exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Alright, that’s it,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

I blinked. “What?”

“You’re coming home with me,” he stated, already pulling his phone out of his race suit pocket. “I’m not letting you fly commercial in your condition.”

I stared at him. “Max, I’m fine—”

“You’re injured,” he cut in. “And knowing you, you’d try to do everything by yourself and make it worse.” Franco and Lando both nodded in agreement, traitors that they were.

Max continued, tapping at his screen. “I’ve already invited the others who were worried about you. Kimi, Ollie, Oscar—I know they’d want to be there to make sure you’re okay.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Lando held up a finger. “Nope. You’re not winning this argument.” Franco grinned. “Just let us take care of you, cariño.”

I groaned, slumping back in my chair. “Fine. But if any of you baby me, I swear—”

Max smirked. “No promises.”

Before I could retaliate, a race official called out to them, reminding them they had a podium celebration and interviews to get to.

Franco squeezed my hand once before standing. “I’ll see you after?”

I smiled. “I’ll be waiting.”

Max gave me a final nod before he and the others turned back toward parc fermé, the weight of the race now settling into the excitement of celebration.

And me? I was lucky—because of my injuries, I didn’t have to do any media.

At least some good came out of all of this bullshit.

Now the only question left on my mind was Jack, what was gonna come from this? Would I get the brother I have looked up to back? Or was this the end of my story a part of the Doohan family?

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @littlesimps-world @dozyisdead @mizzy-pop @lost4lyrics @anunstablefangirl @nikfigueiredo

Thank You everyone for the patience! I was hoping that I could get back to updating on the same schedule I started with compared to the almost once a week I had fallen into. But I did not want to turn this chapter into two parts. Hopefully from here I can continue to update as often as I was hoping.

[37sommz]

✼. THRU SPACE 'N TIME | MLIST.

MASTERLIST & UPCOMING WORKS⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀ last updated 04 oct 2024

view:⠀navigation⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

001.⠀⠀MEET MICHAELA SOMMERS⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

✼.⠀about michaela. ✼.⠀social media profiles. ✼.⠀meet the team. ✼.⠀grid dynamics. ✼.⠀meet the family. ✼.⠀more grid dynamics.

002.⠀⠀WRITINGS & REQUESTS⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

✼.⠀pre-formula 1 masterlist. ✼.⠀rookie season masterlist. ✼.⠀2020 season masterlist. ✼.⠀2021 season masterlist. ✼.⠀2022 season masterlist. ✼.⠀2023 season masterlist. ✼.⠀2024 season masterlist.

003.⠀⠀HEADCANONS⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

✼.⠀ms37 x cs55. ✼.⠀ms37 x lh44.

004.⠀⠀TWITTER THUMBS⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

✼.⠀maple-scented: 2024 canadian grand prix recap. ✼.⠀motorsport: 2024 spanish-austrian-british grand prix recap. ✼.⠀hands ii heaven: 2024 summer break recap.

005.⠀⠀DRIVE TO SURVIVE⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

✼.⠀season 02, episode 01: australia 2019. ✼.⠀season 03, episode 04: tuscany 2020.

[housepartyprotocol]

Maple leaves

Hockey player!Oscar Piastri x driver!reader

Summary: YN is a Redbull driver and gets introduced to a certain NHL team, and a certain player Masterlist / TipJar

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, and mapleleafs and 42,639 others

oscarpiastri Coming to the end of the season strong!

view all 105 comments

user he is such a man whore lordy look at him

user delectable user how is he not taken user HES SINGLE !?!

user raw. next question.

user UNHINGED

user I wanna move to Canada to breathe the same air as him

user I am from his hometown in Australia and that's my biggest achievement

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, alexalbon and 532,620 others

ynusername Just a day of packing while wearing my teammates merch

view all 402 comments

user redbull merch is redbull merch regardless of the driver

user soft launching ...

user i doubt it, max has a baby coming user omg DILF

maxverstappen we all know you are immediately unpacking that suitcase

ynusername the things i do for the aesthetic maxverstappen and why would you pack a book you finished a month ago ynusername huh how maxverstappen i follow your Goodreads, we need to talk ynusername NO IGNORE MY READS user shes a smut reader omg user that wasn't on my bingo card

landonorris AUSTRALIAAAAAA

ynusername TIME FOR THONGS ynuersname that sounds strange ynusername nope im sticking with flipflops user HAH landonorris I WANNA WEAR A THONG landonorris ;)

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, and mapleleafs and 35,747 others

oscarpiastri I'm homesick

view all 97 comments

user Melbourne mention

user 5 minutes and a hair tie

user go to horny jail

user I got this just after the F1 post about the season starting in MELBOURNE

user crossover user no because a F1 x NHL crossover would be so sick! user @ F1 HEAR OUR WISHES

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, yukitsunoda and 654,224 others

ynusername it feels good to be back

view all 398 comments

user the queen is back on her throne

user WINNERR user since she got in the redbull she is a force to be reckoned with user she deserves everything

user shes a bitch

user GET OUT SHOO OUT

landonorris I hate you

ynusername I hate you too ynusername I hate the mullet landonorris NOT THE MULLET alexalbon NOT THE MULLET maxverstappen that was low, holy hell

landonorris

liked by ynusername, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 745,221 others

landonorris managed to get tickets to see my favourite hockey team. Took a doofus and now shes a bigger fan than me. Owns more merch than me

view all 573 comments

user they are such a cute couple omg

user they aren't user they aren't ?? user nope they just friends since karting

ynusername I slayyed that photoshoot

landonorris you are welcome ynusername I am learning more about the game every time I watch now ynusername would it be traitorous to switch teams now, i like this Jack Hughes with the devils landonorris NO YOU WILL STAY A MAPLE FAN user YN x Jack Hughes would be so cute user god all people do is ship her with people

mapleleafs Come back soon

landonorris WE WILL user F1 x NHL crossover LOOMING

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and mapleleafs, 29,977 others

oscarpiastri Ending the season cold, always.

view all 87 comments

user I wanna be that ice water

user that's such a strange way to say you find him hot user I wanna be it too though

user I can't believe we now have to wait like half a year for more ice bath pics

user I am so sad that the hockey is almost over but the F1 is just starting !! so my calendar is always full

user He can't be single, look at this man

ynusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, pierregasly, and 587,964 others

ynusername MIAMIIIIIII (cue feral behaviour)(yes redbull admin this is non-alcoholic, no drunk driving)

view all 306 comments

user THIS IS MIAMI

user her and lando become demons in Miami user it is so fun

maxverstappen maybe not that one, but the others..

ynusername don't spread such BLASPHEMY maxverstappen you remained sober completely ynusername I did, i just drank alot of caffeine landonorris ah a proper redbull advocate

user WHY DID I AGAIN SCROLL TO THIS FROM A NHL POST

user what NHL post? user the post Oscar Piastri did about him and some of this teammates at the Miami GP user OMG WHY ARE THEY THERE user Idk, they must be fans

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and redbullracing, and 42,875 others

oscarpiastri This getting into a new sport thing is fun

view all 121 comments

user NHL x F1 crossover !

user omg yes my life is complete user I am now trying to work out which of his teammates are F1 fans

user He is such a cutie

user OKAY I NEED OSCAR X YN CONTENT NOW

user they have never interacted user true, they could though

ynusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 604,887 others

ynusername had a wonderful time. suck it lando I got an autograph.

view all 435 others

user i love it when famous people are fans of other famous people

user whose signature is that?

user I think it is Oscar Piastri, he was there, and he plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs user she is now such a fan, everyone thank Lando

landonorris I got an autograph too

ynusername yeah you got a piece of paper signed landonorris it was the back of an important document mclaren what ynusername HA ynusername and you called me crazy for packing my hat landonorris you were crazy, but it paid off

user couple alert

user calm tf down

redbullracing

liked by ynuersname, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 104,520 others

redbullracing Just Leaving This Here

view all 153 comments

user OKAY maybe redbull got the team tickets to Miami...

user OMGOMGOMGOMGGG

user what are the Toronto Maple Leafs?

user they are an NHL team user huh user hockey

user okay so players in a car or drivers on the ice

user DRIVERS ON ICE PLEASE

ynusername

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 548,125 others

ynusername some recent vibes

view all 355 comments

user HOT HANDS GAWD

user omg shes lucky is that her boyfriend

user they look like Lando's hands user no he wouldnt wear that watch though

danielricciardo giddyup

ynusername aren't my boots beautiful danielricciardo need them in my life ynusername don't think they are your size

landonorris very neutral aesthetic, very demure

user WHERE DID HE LEARN THAT ynusername why yes ynusername but don't say that again its weird from you maxverstappen you can call me demure Lando ynusername you are anything but demure landonorris ignore her, max you are very demure ynusername EVERYONE STOP SAYING DEMURE

user shes taken? i thought she was single

user no one is confirming either way user who? user no idea

redbullracing

liked by ynusername, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri and 210,526 others

redbullracing admin can happily say they died of laughter in the making of this...

view all 98 comments

user omg YN and Max ice skating with the team?

user god why won't drivers just stick to racing what's with all this unnecessary extra stuff

user YN so campaigned for this crossover to annoy Lando that she met the team

user I would too, have you seen them, like Oscar Piastri, DAMN

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, ynusername, mapleleafs, and 40,545 others

oscarpiastri Back home in time for the start of another dose of winter

view all 85 comments

user he just leaves these here and doesn't address them. Sir this is a thirst trap

user all he does is thirst trap (no one complain) user do you think if he gets a girlfriend he will stop thirst-trapping user i hope NOT user i'll just have to resort to Pinterest

user wait if he is in Australia then did he not take part in the Redbull F1 thing

user I think they have already filmed it user PHEW

ynusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen, and 600,010 others

ynusername Spain you were perfect

view all 230 comments

user redbull domination!

user the queen is leading the championship!!

user YESS user I hope she wins!

user god she's hot

user god you only watch the racing for the hot drivers woah user no that's stupid as fuck user sorry just felt appropriate to turn tables for once

maxverstappen you make me take a million photos of you and you don't even credit me

ynusername gosh i am sooooo sorry (not) ynusername everyone thank Max for taking the photo of me user thank you landonorris thank you ynusername why you landonorris you said everyone!

maxverstappen thats true you did, thank you Lando

user Why are we still waiting for Redbull racing to release the hockey crossover!

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, redbullracing and 61,813 others

oscarpiastri Go check out the newest video on both Toronto Maple Leafs and Redbull Racings youtube!!

view all 98 comments

user OMG DID YOU SEE IT

user YN cannot SKATE HOLY HELL

user Oscar making goo goo eyes at that girl the entire time

user you mean YN, Redbull racing F1 driver user you have a lot to learn, she is amazing

user the camera panning as Max Verstappen just slowly skated directly into the wall and then fell over

user I DIED

user I came for the crossover, i stayed for this man WOOF

user I thought the girl in that youtube what his girlfriend user dont think so

user YUMMY

maxverstappen

liked by ynusername, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 514,657 others

maxverstappen What I felt like while filming. What YN looked like while filming. And then that.

view all 193 comments

user she is just FLAT

user im sorry Max that photo does not fit them vibe, its too hot

user you are so right

user She could not skate

user max was worse he is just hiding it!

ynusername you have done me so dirty, i will never forgive you

maxverstappen oh no, what ever will i do now ynusername i will run you off the track redbullracing no you wont ynusername no I wont maxverstappen haha mum told you off ynusername bully

landonorris she was so shit, serves her right

ynusername FOR WHAT landonorris FOR MEETING LOADS OF THE TEAM ynusername yeah I did do that, SUCK IT maxverstappen children, not in the comments

ynusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, georgerussell and 622,548 others

ynusername got myself a red hot date

view all 353 comments

user MAMA

user the hand placement, she knows what she is doing

user I wanna be her

user I want to be both of them, I am undecided

landonorris this is why you were being evasive about whether you were coming out with us or not

ynusername guilty as charged ynusername can you blame me landnorris I dont swing like that but no i do not maxverstappen do you know who that is landonorris I might im not sure, hold on ill text you user NO LANDO KEEP IT HERE WE NEED TO KNOW

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, redbullracing, and 70,623 others

oscarpiastri Really liking this racing thing

view all 53 comments

user HES AT SILVERSTONE OMG

user SIR what you doing there

user the redbull garage, he was so invited by YN

user or max... or the team user I bet by YN so much

user no thirst trap..

user that photo is cute user yes but where is the HOT user has he been domesticated...

landonorris

liked by ynusername, maxverstappen, oscarpiastri, and 655,012 others

landonorris Party. Party. Party.

view all 293 comments

user what is in the water, its thirst trap after thirst trap

user shush you'll spook them away

user I want that man

ynusername Slut

landonorris you are calling me a slut? ynusername man whore ynusername bully landonorris what did i do landonorris OH i see what i did landonorris HOW DO I DELETE A PIC ynusername GRRRR

user DID LANDO JUST EXPOSE YN RELATIONSHIP

user NO IT LOOKS LIKE IT user DAMN ITS BLURRY WHO IS THAT

ynusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexalbon and 532,124 others

ynusername You know I dont love a london boy

view all 291 comments

user she is dropping hints!

user that mans back, yum

user this is so aesthetic

landonorris this is humorous

ynusername how so landonorris you down bad ynusername who said that landonorris everything you are doing, it is as new you landonorris i take credit ynusername HOW landonorris ;)

maxverstappen I feel like as your teammate i need to give you the talk after all of these photos

ynusername EW NO you arent my dad maxverstappen I wasnt saying that, its more, big brother vibes landonorris Ill join in ynusername gosh, i hate you all maxverstappen young lady!

user why is lando taking credit

user did he introduce them? user hear me out, introduced YN to his team... Becuase its Oscar Piastri user who?

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, mapleleafs, and 63,201 others

oscarpiastri recently

view all 82 comments

user HES TAKEN

user bye bye thirst traps

user i wanna be her omg

user do you think she is canadian or australian user she could be neither

user he looks GOOOD

user he HAS been domesticated user it looks good on him

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen, and 684,886 others

ynusername he is definitely not a London boy

view all 394 comments

user he is an ASSUIE BOY

user i feel like im suppose to know who that is

user its Oscar Piastri user ill google

user shes so lucky

user HE is so lucky

landonorris if you switch teams now, its divorce

ynusername i knowwwww ynusername i'll just dream out the Red Devils oscarpiastri you will do no such thing, I am not moving teams landonorris See even he agrees ynusername I hate you both

maxverstappen lets keep it PG in front of the children

maxverstappen happy for you pipsqueak ynusername we agreed to never use that name again maxverstappen sorry, happy for you teammate ynusername better, ish ynusername thank you <3 ynusername ALso what part is NOT pg

user F1 x NHL crossover FOREVERRRR

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, maxverstappen, and 81,235 others

oscarpiastri I think I officially love this racing thing

view all 102 comments

user RIP Oscar Piastri thirst traps

user RIP user RIP

user He is down bad, its cute

ynusername Yum

oscarpiastri what? ynusername nothing, just you ;) user she is just like us I fear

user she is so pretty

user him being decked out in her merch just feels right

user him going to all the races!

landonorris YN WE GOING TO ALL THE MATCHES

ynusername fans for life babygirl landonorris ew why babygirl oscarpiastri yeah.. ynusername becuase look at him, he is BABYGIRL oscarpiastri fairs sorry x landonorris HUH

[bunny-jpeg]

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ mad(ly in love) max｡ ⊹˚.⋆

partially inspired by this by @angldelight before it got away from me! <3

max knew you looked better in blue than red. and if you did look good in red, it was the red of the his team rather than the garish red of ferrari. he believed the statement that everyone is a ferrari fan even if they don't know it, because if they saw a photo of you, they'd have brand loyalty to the stallion for the rest of their days.

there was a reason why your face and name were everywhere in your home country. you were a pride and joy to the nation you called home. but, max was more than happy to stake a claim on you.

max liked you because you challenged him. far too many women would bend over backwards for the three time champion, but you simply glared him down with your hands on your hips. you stood toe to toe with him even if there was a height difference. but you kept your gaze steady on him.

"don't fuck me over again." you said, "or you'll regret it."

"i would never do it on purpose, princess. maybe you should watch where you are going from now on." he bite back in response. he noticed a twitch in your hand, like you wanted to grab him by the front of his driver's suit and pull him close. either for a punch or a kiss.

it would eventually lead in kisses. max liked when you were mad because then that meant he could flip the script and get ferrari's little princess on her knees with a mouthful of verstappen cock. it was honestly cute, while he wanted to dive into your sweet cunt and make your insides sticky with his cum. he'd have to make you acquainted with his size.

max verstappen was fuckin' crazy though, being involved with him was like being a deer and getting your leg caught in a trap. the type of obsession that clamped around you, dug its teeth into your fragile skin. you were so cute though, something some delicate and soft. formula one was for the toughest, the mental and physical strain of it all (that could be why he was so... off). and while max believed in you, he worried.

where you were going, who you were with. you hadn't only been in monaco for a few years and while you had the likes of charles to help you around. when he heard about men you had met, max felt something curl inside of him.

it started inauspicious. he slipped an air tag into the back pocket of your jeans while you were in your driver's room getting ready for dinner with some guy that max couldn't even remember the name of. he was all smiles as he wished you a great time.

too bad there was an issue with your car. how could you have a flat tire already, you just got the car? and when you asked your date to come pick you up, he totally ghosted you. little did you know that while you were struggling with you car, max went to meet your date and give him a few firm words. that was when the real mad max came out.

"listen mate. you're never going to give her what she needs. hell, not even what she wants. there are plenty of fish in the sea." he got a little closer to the other man, "but you can't have her."

"why?" your date swallowed.

max nodded and flashed that winning smile, "because she's mine. and i know she may have talked so nice to you. she's like that. charming. but sadly she's taken. so i think it's in everyone's best interest that you delete her number and go back to finding your perfect match." he patted the man on the shoulder like they were buddies.

"and if i don't."

max's smile only grew, "i don't like people fucking what's mine. she's taken, mate. move on." he couldn't verbalize exactly how he'd rough up the other man. he didn't want to make headlines. but there was something in his gaze that made your date high tail it out of there. your number blocked and deleted.

max then used the air tag to find you at a bar close to your flat where you were drinking away your sorrows. but, don't worry about that! max was now here to make sure that you had the best night ever. while that meant ending up drunk and curled up in his bed, but he didn't mind. he was even a gentleman and created a barrier of pillows between the two of you. no funny business. even if he wanted to. when he eventually fucked you, he wanted you conscious.

that air tag would come in handy, turns out that you wore the same pair of black levi's jeans. max was wondering if he had to get more air tags to place along other items. but, he lucked out with that one. you thought it was a strange coincidence that he seemed to be where you were.

and he'd laugh and tell you, "small city, right?"

it took months of hard work but, eventually he got to sink his pretty cock into your prettier hole. the happiest day of his life. he had invited you on his boat for the afternoon, and while he didn't expect much. he wasn't expecting your pretty tits on such display. a pretty red checkered print bikini and sandals as you stayed close to max.

and then alone, out in the waters. you ended up straddling max's waist while he sat on one of the seats up on the deck. it was couch-like and allowed you two some room as you rubbed your sweet pussy up against the front of his shorts. his hands dug into the plushness of your ass as he moved against you. you were painfully pretty, and it drove max insane. you'd try to run him off the track, but he'd always get an apology by having your pretty tits in his face and your pussy around his cock.

"you feel so good." he said, "you're so soft."

you whimpered, "i'm not that soft. you keep feeding me all this good food since i came to visit! my team is going to be pissed." you squirmed a little.

he kissed at your breasts in front of your face and laughed, "well, then. i guess i'll have to keep feeding you better food." his teeth then nipped your left breast and it made you whine. his hands continued to grope you ass and you squirmed a little more.

you didn't realize that you're movements only made him harder and he had to force himself to let go of you to take his cock out of his shorts. this was a dream come true, after months of being your little shadow.

"you know how to do this?" he asked.

you held onto his shoulders and chuckled, "yes, i've had sex before." which made something cold run through max's body, but it was quickly heated up once more when you sank down on him.

other men might had had you, but he was going to make sure you were his forever. no need to get stuffed with another man's cock, when you have max who, as he might add, can get into you quite easily. it was like you were made for him as you started to ride him. he pulled you into a kiss with one hand while he groped your behind with the other. he felt your core shiver around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock.

this only lit his need for you more. if you were so good on top, how good were you on the bottom, or at your side, or stuffed full of fingers and toys as max pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. he wanted you, he was mad for you. while he'd sometimes pull dirty tricks on the track, he had a whole other set of skills for you. because he could never hurt you on the track, too much of a risk for your safety. but he'd bruise your little pussy and cover your pretty soft breasts in large bites. he'd hope that cameras would get a good look at the pretty marks.

a lot easier to scare off men than to see a woman decorated with hickies. if he had it his way, you'd be wearing a little chain with his initials on it. or better yet, chubby little verstappen baby at your hip. the thought made something hot run through him. oh, that unlocked something in his brain as he was balls deep inside of you. he continued to leave a mess of bites on your chest as you continued to rut against him. your back arched a little when he bit one of your nipples.

"i need you to burn that bikini when we get to shore." he said between heavy pants as he grabbed your ass roughly and pushed himself up as much as he could go. his voice was a little strained from the intensity of it all.

"why?" you asked as you looked down at you.

"because, someone might get the wrong idea. and i don't want you getting hurt." he replied. it showed off far too much, too much of what belonged to him.

he rubbed up against you further. his cock poking some of your deepest parts, he wondered if he was the biggest you ever had. or if there was some other guy in another part of the world who took you apart better than him. unlikely. the way he watched you wiped drool from the corner of your mouth as you rode him made him excited.

during his time racing alongside you, he had seen you at euphoric highs of victory and deep anger when losing. but, this was a whole other look, you were far from focused. only really thinking about the cock, his cock, stuffing you full. guess there was no need to get you into his clothes and keep an air tag in your bad anymore, not when you had such a sweet look across your face.

he ran his blunt nails down the side of your thighs and felt you clench harder around his cock. which made sparks appear in the back of max's mind.

"pretty thing." he said. there was a softness to you that he wanted to sink his teeth into. especially the slight chub at your hips, next time he wanted to bite down on the skin and leave pretty bruises across it. you were just so beautiful. he thought formula one was for ugly men because they wore a helmet all the time, not pretty women who made max go insane.

you whined a little bit and started to feel yourself really get hot all over. his cock fit in you perfectly. while lust clouded your head, you honestly did think about throwing out the bikini you were wearing on board the boat. he kissed at your pulse point and you moaned, your pussy fluttered around him.

"i need that bikini gone before we get back to shore." he said.

"why, what will i wear?" you asked a little shy. you couldn't get back onto land with nothing on!

he grabbed at your ass once more and pushed you down on his cock, then held you for a moment. his lips were squared with yours as he said, "i got some extra clothes in the bedroom below deck." he knew that it was either red bull or verstappen merchandise. something that he had a lot of and could get wet.

while it wouldn't show off your pretty figure. the idea of you getting a bit chilled while heading 'home' and having your nipples poke through a shirt with his logo on it made him hotter. maybe he'll turn the ac up in the car on the drive home.

"i don't want anyone to see the bikini ever again. i'll buy you something nicer." he said as he thrusted up into you, "i don't want hungry eyes on you and neither do you. you're not a piece of meat." even though max wished to devour you, you were not meat. he'd say you were more like fruit. something refreshing and bright. something to crave on a warm day like today.

"i should have something in my bag." you said as you continued to ride him.

he held your soft hips and looked up at you, "no, no." he said then licked his top lip, "wear my clothes, they'll be more comfortable." and it'll hide your figure better.

you were the first to climax, and he managed to get you across the seat of the couch and fuck you from behind doggy style. perfect angle to make sure every last drop. you clawed at the faux leather and arched your back, your sweet noises against the sounds of the sea. your pussy clenched around him as he bullied the tip up against your cervix.

it was important for the two to get acquainted.

he finally finished inside of you and let out a sweet groan. he clenched onto your hips tightly and watched you go fully limp against the couch as you tried to catch your breath. he pulled out and gooey cum dripped out of your poor pussy. ah, it's okay. he simply pushed it all back inside of you.

with the amount he finished inside of you, you were at least 3% dutch now!

when max was finished with you, he knew that he was going to keep the little princess of ferrari. maybe eventually you'll wear the red bull logo across your pretty tits when you entered the paddock. or maybe better yet, the verstappen last name. but for now he'd simply have to stake his claim by shoving all his cum into your sweet cunt. after all it was a safer place to keep it compared to his own fist.

-

even with the start of the new season. his fixation of your cunt didn't end. so what you're on a different team, that didn't mean he couldn't easily go to the ferrari area and just get you to himself. when you win the first race of the season and sing along to your national anthem, max smiles in second. not because he is happy that you are winning.

but because he knew that his cum was dampening the front of your sweet cotton panties. you may have the trophy over your head, but he knew after this, he'd get another chance to sink another load in you. <3

a/n: is this anything? does anyone want more of this????

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: might make this two or three parts, not sure yet but oh well <3 love y’all THIS IS AN AU WHERE ALL THE F1 DILFS ARE SINGLE

faceclaim gisele bündchen

part 2 part 3

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and others

yourusername 💋

aussiegrit long time no see 👀

yourusername don’t worry, I still have cherry lipgloss that’s waiting for you

aussiegrit 😉

jensonbutton well hello 😏

yourusername hey there stranger

jensonbutton stranger? you’re breaking my heart, baby

sebastianvettel miss you lots!

yourusername come over then

sebastianvettel don’t tempt me

ferraridepressionclub y/n fr has all the dilfs in her comments i wanna be like her when i grow up

paddockgirlies she’s so iconic

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INTERVIEW WITH Y/N L/N | VOGUE

In conversation with Y/n L/n about being a mother and a racing driver, and her what’s in store for her.

Known for her fierce driving and even fiercer spirit, has seamlessly transitioned into a life that’s as complex as it is rewarding. A name that echoes through the halls of motorsport history, her story is one of reinvention—a journey from high-speed thrills to quiet, profound moments of motherhood, and, possibly, a return to the racing world in an entirely new role.

The 2000s were Y/n’s golden years at Williams. Her raw talent shone even when the team’s fortunes dipped, and she quickly became a fan favorite. Known for her courage, sharp wit, and stunning moves on the track, she formed friendships with some of the sport's brightest stars—Mark Webber, Sebastian Vettel, and Jenson Button. Their bond, a cocktail of camaraderie and unspoken attraction, became as legendary as her driving.

But the glamorous world of F1, with its dazzling lights and high expectations, took a toll. In 2004, Williams made the decision to drop her from their roster—a move that would alter the course of her life forever. Y/n, at the time, found solace in the chaos. Late nights, parties, and the company of friends became her refuge.

"I wasn’t ready to let go of F1, but at that point, I wasn’t sure where I was headed." Y/n said as we chat in her London home. It’s a beautiful house with stained glass windows and the perfect amount of sunlight shining in. Her daughter is also present though she much prefers to continue with her reading as she cuddles up to her mother.

But in the unpredictable world of racing, the story of Y/n was far from over. A fresh start beckoned when McLaren offered her a seat, a move that many saw as her redemption arc. She embraced the opportunity, her focus sharper than ever. The partying ceased. The cigarettes were put out. It wasn’t just a return to the sport—it was a return to herself.

Her career, marked by precision and passion, came to an official close in 2014, but Y/n’s influence has never waned. Retirement, though, didn’t equate to slowing down. Today, Y/n is a mother—something that’s become a cornerstone of her identity.

“I’ve always been independent, but being a mom has redefined what it means to be strong," she says, her eyes softening. "It’s a different kind of challenge, but one I’m grateful for every single day.”

Her daughter, now nine, was born a year after her retirement. She had announced the birth on her social media with a simple caption: “welcome to the world, my beautiful girl”

“As a mom, I’ve learned the art of balancing," Y/n reflects. "There are days when I’m just a mom—no racing, no interviews, no drama. And then there are days when I’m reminded of who I was before all of this. It's about finding peace with both versions of myself.”

At this point, her daughter stops reading her book and places several kisses on her mother’s cheek. It was a beautiful moment between mom and daughter.

“The future is full of possibilities. I’m focused on what’s next, but I'm not in any rush. We’ll see what happens. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Motherhood may have softened some edges, but it has only sharpened her focus. If there’s one thing Y/n has taught us, it’s that the greatest drivers are those who can keep pushing, even when they’re driving toward the unknown.

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N | THE PADDOCK SESSIONS PODCAST

“Welcome everyone to the paddock sessions podcast. I’m your host Dan and todays guest is a very special one. She is my favorite driver and I’m going to try not to freak out right now. Y/n L/n welcome to the paddock sessions!” Dan the host said into his microphone.

Y/n smiled and thanked Dan for the introduction. “Favorite driver? Dan, I’m flattered. I’ll pay you later.” She joked.

“You’re actually the reason my girlfriend watches formula 1. She watched your past races and was devastated when I told her you retired in 2014. I think she was thinking of breaking up with me because I told her,” Dan admitted. Y/n chuckled at his words. “But can we see a potential comeback for you? I know I’m not the only one that would love to see that!”

“Well I can’t really stay away from formula 1. I try to watch the races with my daughter, but she’s not interested in racing at all so I always end up watching them alone.” Y/n explained as she adjusted the microphone.

“Daughter of a racing driver isn’t interested in racing? That’s wild. But at least she knows that her mom is a legend in the sport, yeah?” Dan asked.

“She’s reminded every time we go out and I’m stopped because someone wants an autograph or a picture,” Y/n laughs. “But she knows the basics, she knows what all the number means, she’s a smart girl.”

“Amazing. Um, on the topic of your daughter, and you can stop me if you want, you’ve always been an open book in many ways, yet when it comes to your daughter’s father, you’ve kept things private. How hard has it been to keep things like that private? I imagine it must be frustrating.”

Y/n nodded and cleared her throat. “I’ve always believed in protecting my daughter’s privacy, and for me, that extends to the people closest to us. I’ll say this: my daughter is incredibly lucky to have the most amazing father. He’s the kind of dad who would do anything to keep her safe and happy. I know she’s growing up in a secure and loving environment because of him. He’s protective, but in the best way possible.”

“Have you seen the tweets regarding it?” Dan asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, it’s all over my feed. I’ve actually read some pretty crazy shit about the father of my daughter.” Y/n said.

“Any favorites?”

“There’s a thread that was posted recently on why Lewis is the father of my daughter. I love Lewis, but I can confirm he is not. He’s actually the godfather.”

“Well, you heard it hear first folks!”

[mionemymind]

The Driver & The Witch

Summary: Small moments of what it's like for Wanda and her F1 driver girlfriend.

A/n: For my favorite anon S!, Happy Birthday. I know you wished for incorrect quotes but I also wanted to give you this. I hope you enjoyed today's race and this past weekend. Much love! (Gif Credits to @overtake)

Masterlist

“Dekta, I need you to win this,” Wanda said as she strapped the HANS device to Y/n’s helmet. Everyone around them was busy making sure the car was ready for the race as Wanda and Y/n did their race ritual. 

The red head gave a small kiss at the lower side of the helmet, leaving an imprint of her lipstick on it for goodluck. “Do you understand me?” 

The sparkle in Y/n’s eye was hard to ignore as she nodded her head yes, feeling oh-so proud that she was able to even call Wanda her girlfriend. “Perfect, ‘cause if Max wins today, Tony will undeniably hold it over me for the rest of my life.” 

“Are you betting on today’s winner, babe?” Wanda acted coy as she looked off into the distance. “More like ensuring that Tony knows that my girlfriend is the best. Nothing more. Nothing less.” 

“Jesus christ, are they seriously trying to give Ricciardo his seat?” Wanda was in the kitchen cutting up tomatoes as she prepared their dinner. “Are they trying to piss me off?”

Y/n laughed from behind as she slid her arms around Wanda’s waist. “You seem to be more pissed off about me possibly losing my seat than I am.” 

Wanda turned around with a deadly glare. “Does it look like I want to be an Aston Martin fan? Last thing I need is you embarrassing the CEO’s son.” 

Y/n smiled widely as she kissed Wanda’s cheek, hoping to calm her girlfriend down. “And if I were to go to Ferrari?”

“Red would look good on you and I, but a messed up strategy doesn’t.” Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle at Wanda’s comments. 

“You know I love you right?”

“Set up the table and maybe I will.” 

“Why can’t I come over?” Charles whined as the two walked away. “It’s been ages since we hung out and I’m dying to play.” 

“Well my girlfriend kind of hates you.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders as she made sure no one was around to hear her comment. “Ever since you made me crash last year-”

“Oh come on! That wasn’t my fault.” 

“If you can tell that to my very powerful girlfriend, then sure, come over.” 

“....fine, I’ll just have to sneak in when she’s not around…”

“Your girlfriend drives pretty fast.” Tony said as he popped a grape in his mouth. The Avengers were having their monthly check in and Tony was dying to talk to Wanda. 

“She does.” Wanda hadn’t looked up from her phone, not wanting to give attention to Tony at that moment. 

“Would she be interested in driving for a new team?”

“Depends on the team.”

“Stark Industries?” Wanda finally looked up from her phone. 

“...tell me more…”

[mediocre-shark-tales]

The Path to Reconciliation

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

My heart stopped. The anger, the confusion, the hurt—everything evaporated like a puddle on a hot day. Just two seconds ago, she had been yelling at me, arguing, standing her ground. And now—

Now, she had collapsed, her body dropping like a lifeless doll into Lando’s arms. Her limbs slack, her face fogged with exhaustion and something worse. Something I didn’t want to name.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

The world around me spun as the others rushed in, their frantic voices blending into the chaotic storm of my thoughts. They carried her to the bed, Oscar barking orders, Lando shaking as he fumbled for his phone. The medics arrived, pushing past me, their muffled yelling beating against my ears like waves crashing in a storm. Yet I stood there. Frozen. Rooted to the spot where she left me.

My sister. My baby sister. The person I had known my entire life, yet suddenly, I realized—I didn’t know her at all.

A firm grip landed on my shoulders, pulling me back, guiding me out of the room. The door shut behind me with a soft click, and I turned, meeting the calm but unreadable eyes of Nico Rosberg.

“We need to sit down and chat,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. Next to him, Oscar nodded, his usual patience tinged with something more serious.

I swallowed hard, my head spinning, but I nodded and followed them down the hall.

Minutes later, I found myself in an empty meeting room. The air felt thick, pressing down on me as I dropped into a chair. Oscar quietly locked the door before taking a seat across from me, while Nico remained standing, his eyes studying me. Calculating.

“I need to ask you something,” he said finally, his voice devoid of any emotion. “And I need an honest answer.”

I clenched my jaw, bracing myself. “What?”

“Can we trust you to keep this a secret?” His gaze pinned me in place. “You can talk to her, and to those who already know, but you cannot tell anyone else. Not even your parents.”

My stomach twisted.

“Why has she kept this from us? Why couldn’t she tell me?” The anger started to creep back in, the hurt simmering beneath my skin.

Nico sighed. “I can explain what I know, but only if you swear to keep her secret.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll even sign a document if that’s what it takes.”

Nico smirked faintly. “Perfect.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, scribbled something down, and handed it to me along with a pen.

I barely glanced at the words before signing. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t care. I needed answers.

As soon as I handed the paper back, Nico tucked it away and exhaled, his posture relaxing just slightly.

“I’ve only been her official manager for this season, but I’ve been helping her behind the scenes for much longer—thanks to your uncle.” He paused, letting the words settle before continuing. “From what he told me, and from what she’s told me herself, your sister started racing when she was old enough to compete—just like you. She looked up to you. Wanted to be just like you. But your parents…” He shook his head. “They weren’t happy with her choice. So they convinced her to quit the sport she loved.”

I sat still, the weight of his words pressing against my chest.

“She was only twelve,” Nico continued. “And in that season she was forced to sit out, she fell into a deep depression. Your parents… they didn’t just discourage her. They controlled her. Moulded her into what they believed she should be. It was your uncle who saw her for who she truly was. He gave her a way out.”

My heart started to crack.

“For years, he helped her race in secret. Using a nickname. Crafting excuses to get her away from your parents. She climbed through the ranks—Formula 3, IndyCar, and now, here. She always wanted to tell you. But in the beginning, she was doing better than you. And she didn’t want to take away from your achievements. Didn’t want you to feel overshadowed.”

The words hit like a slap to the face.

“But as time went on, that changed,” Nico added. “She saw how much you trusted your parents. And she knew—if she told you, she was risking everything. She was afraid you’d tell them. That you’d betray her without meaning to.”

I felt sick. My mind reeled with the weight of everything I had just learned.

Then Nico’s phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. He checked the screen, his expression darkening. “They’re transporting her to the hospital.”

He turned and left without another word.

I barely noticed.

Oscar locked the door behind him and sat back down across from me, his eyes softer now.

“This is a lot,” I muttered, resting my elbows on the table and rubbing my face.

“Yeah,” Oscar said simply. “I get it.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “We used to be so close. Did she really think I’d hate her for being better than me? That I’d sell her out?”

Oscar’s expression hardened. “That’s what you’re stuck on?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I forgot how brainwashed your parents made you.”

I scoffed. “I’m not brainwashed.”

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes burning into mine. “Really? Then tell me this—do you think it’s normal for parents to groom their daughter from the age of twelve to be the perfect wife for a rich or powerful man? To have a list of potential suitors ready the moment she turned eighteen? Some of them twice her age?”

My breath hitched.

Oscar kept going. “Do you think it’s normal to strip a kid of everything they love, force them into a mold, and make them feel like they’re less than human?”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to.

But in the silence, the realization came crashing down.

I had been blind.

Blind to what she’d gone through. Blind to how twisted our parents really were. Blind to the fact that she hadn’t just been keeping a secret—she had been surviving.

Oscar stood, pushing his chair back. “I’m not going to say anything else. This is her story. When she’s ready, she’ll tell you the rest. But until then?”

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Think about it.”

Then he walked out, leaving me alone in the silence, lost in the wreckage of everything I thought I knew.

—

Barely three days had passed since finding out about her, and every second I could, I spent it reliving our childhood. Thinking of every time she might have tried to reach out to me and I was too lost in my own life to realize. The memories came in waves, each one pulling me under with the weight of my own blindness.

The first one came in sharp and clear—the day she was supposed to start karting for her second season. She had been so excited, bouncing on her toes as we stood in the garage. Her small hands clutched the edges of her suit, eyes wide with the kind of wonder only a kid with a dream could have. I remember feeling proud of her, excited that she wanted to follow in my footsteps. But then, our parents had stepped in.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Mom had sighed, giving Dad a look. "Racing isn't exactly... ladylike."

"She should be focusing on things that will actually help her future," Dad had added. "Not wasting time pretending to be her brother."

I laughed then. Not cruelly, but without realizing how those words might have felt to her. I shrugged and said, "Maybe they're right. Racing’s pretty intense, and you never really showed interest before."

I remember how her face fell, just for a second, before she plastered on a fake smile and nodded. "Yeah... maybe it's not for me."

But it had been for her. It had always been for her.

The second memory hit even harder. A couple of years later, she had pulled me aside in the hallway, her fingers twisting in the hem of her dress.

"Jack," she had whispered urgently, "do you ever feel like they love you more? Like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough?"

I scoffed, ruffling her hair. "Don’t be stupid. They love us both. Maybe you’re just overthinking it."

The way her shoulders had slumped, the way her lips had pressed together like she was trying not to cry—I should have seen it then. I should have known that it wasn’t just sibling jealousy, but something deeper. Something breaking inside of her that I refused to acknowledge.

The third memory wasn’t as direct, but now it stood out like a flashing neon sign. A family dinner, one of the rare occasions when we were all home. Dad had spent the entire evening talking about my racing, my progress, my potential.

"Jack is going to do great things," he had said, pride thick in his voice. "I have no doubt."

She had been sitting across from me, her plate barely touched. At one point, she had opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but Mom had cut her off with a simple look. And just like that, she had shrunk back into herself. Not one person had asked about her dreams, her passions. It was as if she didn’t exist beyond being ‘Jack’s little sister.’ And I had let it happen.

And then, the worst one. The night before she left. I hadn’t known it at the time, but looking back, it was so obvious. She had come into my room, standing awkwardly at the door like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

"I think I’m going to do something crazy," she had said, her voice light, but her eyes serious. "And I just need to know that you’ll still be my brother no matter what."

I laughed, scrolling through my phone. "What, are you eloping or something?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Forget it. It was stupid."

And then she left. And the next day, she was gone. Our uncle taking her away to some boarding school in London.

I had failed her. Over and over again, I had failed her. Not because I had meant to, not because I didn’t love her, but because I had been too wrapped up in myself to see how much she was suffering. How much she had been forced to bend and break just to fit into a version of herself our parents had crafted.

My phone buzzed, shaking me from the depths of my regret.

If you're ready to talk, meet me at this address in an hour.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, my heart pounding with something between fear and hope. I had spent years ignoring the truth. But not anymore. It was time to make things right.

—

Pulling into the parking lot for the apartment complex, I sat staring up at all the floors. Wondering if she would have chosen the top floor like our parents molded her to be, or if she had followed her own opinion and went for one of the few just below. The girl I remember used to tell me her dream of a nice apartment. Not on the top floor, but a few below that—she still wanted a pretty view but didn’t want to be too high up, where she would be considered stuck up.

I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. My stomach twisted with nerves, the weight of guilt pressing down on my chest so hard it hurt to breathe properly. Three days. It had only been three days since my entire world flipped on its head. Since I realized just how blind I had been to the person who mattered most in my life. And in those three days, all I could do was think. Think about all the times I should have seen it—the pain she hid behind the mask of the perfect daughter, the way our parents had stripped her of her true self, the way I had let them.

I thought about the last time I saw her. The fight. The accusations. The way I let my emotions get the better of me and threw words at her like weapons. I had been angry. So, so angry. But she had been worse—broken, exhausted, and hurt beyond belief. And I had made it worse.

I should have been the one protecting her. Instead, I had been the one to hurt her.

What if this was it? What if she only texted me to cut ties? What if I had already lost her, and this was just a formality?

I swallowed down the panic and forced myself to move. My hands shook as I turned off the engine, the click of the key pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I had to do this. I had to face her.

The elevator ride felt like the longest of my life. My reflection in the metal doors showed the same nerves I felt—the tense shoulders, the tight jaw, the way my fingers kept flexing like I was preparing for some kind of fight. But there was no fight to be had. I wasn’t here to argue. I was here to listen.

The hallway to her apartment was quiet, but with each step, my heartbeat grew louder, pounding in my ears. I stopped in front of her door and hesitated. A deep breath. Another. Then I knocked.

The door swung open after a few seconds, and the breath I had been holding escaped me in a sharp exhale.

She looked… awful.

Her left forearm was in a cast, and the other was strapped in a shoulder brace, making her movements stiff and careful. Bruises still lingered along her skin and the stitches peeked out from the loose neckline of her sweatshirt up the side of her neck stopping right around the center. I had known she was hurt, but seeing it like this made it real. The crash had nearly killed her, and I had spent the past three days focused on my own guilt instead of the fact that she was alive.

And yet… she smiled.

A real, happy smile, like none of what had happened had managed to take away that light from her. Like she wasn’t angry at me. Like she was still my little sister, standing in front of me, waiting for me to say something.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice soft but not strained. “Come in.”

I stepped inside without a word, my throat too tight to respond. The living room was warm and familiar, decorated with personal touches that screamed her. Framed photos lined the walls—pictures with friends, some racing shots, a few of her standing on podiums. A life I had never known existed until now.

Then, I noticed them.

Max and Charles sat on the couch, both watching me with unreadable expressions. Charles looked neutral, like he was reserving judgment for later. But Max? Max was glaring, his eyes locked onto me like he was daring me to screw this up.

I hesitated, unsure of where to sit, unsure of what to do. My hands clenched into fists at my sides before I forced them to relax. My body language screamed nervous, and I knew it. Max knew it too—he looked almost satisfied with my discomfort.

She moved past me with a slight wince, heading toward the kitchen. “Give me a second, I need to finish making my smoothie,” she said.

I wanted to offer to help. I wanted to say something. But I didn’t know if I had the right to.

So instead, I sat down, feeling the weight of Max’s glare and the silence that stretched between all of us. And then, we waited as the occasional sound of opening and closing cupboards came from the kitchen.

The silence sat heavy in the room, thick like a storm cloud about to break. I could feel Max’s eyes burning into the side of my face, the weight of his judgment pressing down on me. Every part of me screamed to shift, to look anywhere but at him, but I forced myself to stay still. To take whatever was coming.

Max wasn’t someone who wasted time with pleasantries. He was all sharp edges, a man who never hesitated to say exactly what he was thinking. And right now, what he was thinking was how much he hated me.

"You’re lucky she wanted to see you today." His voice was calm, too calm. Like the quiet before an explosion. "Charles and I told her to wait a few more days. Thought maybe you should sit with your stupidity a little longer. Thought maybe you should really feel what it's like to be ignored by someone you care about.”

I flinched at the words.

Max leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring straight through me. "But she said no. Said she wanted to talk to you. Today. And between making her suffer a little longer for your mistakes or letting her be happy during what little time off she actually has, we’d rather let her be happy.”

My hands curled into fists against my jeans. Every word was a knife, cutting through layers of guilt I already felt drowning in.

"So, I’m going to make one thing very clear for you, Jack." Max’s voice dropped lower, sharper. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee, slow and deliberate. “You don’t argue. You don’t fight. You listen to what she has to say. And if I hear one word out of your mouth that sounds like an excuse, if you get loud with her, if you so much as look at her the wrong way…” He let the words hang for a second, his head tilting slightly as a humorless smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Then I’ll be happy to take care of you myself.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

The threat wasn’t an empty one. I could see it in his eyes—the promise that he would follow through if I gave him even the smallest excuse.

I wanted to say something, to promise that I wouldn’t, to swear up and down that I would sit there and take whatever she had to say without a single protest. But before I could find my voice, Charles shifted beside him.

Max tensed for a second like he wanted to keep going, but when Charles turned to him, giving him nothing more than a sharp glance, he fell silent.

The look Charles gave him wasn’t anything obvious. No words. No movements. But whatever silent conversation passed between them, it worked. Max let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head, before leaning back against the couch with a scowl.

The room didn’t feel any lighter.

“That’s enough, Max,” Charles finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. He turned his gaze on me then, and I barely had a second to brace myself before he continued.

“Max wasn’t wrong.”

I nodded stiffly, unsure if I was supposed to respond or just let him continue.

“I don’t think you understand just how much you hurt her,” Charles went on. His voice wasn’t angry like Max’s had been, but something about it felt worse. Anger could be burned through, but this? This was something colder. Something controlled. Something terrifying.

“She needed you, and you turned your back on her.” His words weren’t loud, but they cut just as deep. “You want to feel guilty? Good. But don’t sit here and act like that makes up for anything.”

I could feel myself sinking into the couch.

“She wants to talk to you. That’s the only reason you’re still here.” His voice was still calm, still measured, but there was something off about it now. A slow shift, the same way the air changed before a storm hit. "But if you raise your voice at her, if you say something that makes her regret letting you through that door…”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Max won't be the only one to take care of you. I will too."

I barely breathed.

Charles was quiet. Collected. Precise. But there was something unsettling about the way he delivered the words. The way he sat there, relaxed, like he hadn’t just made a promise that chilled me to the bone.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I—I won’t. I swear.”

Charles didn’t respond right away. He just held my gaze for another long second, as if deciding whether or not to believe me.

Then—

“Max!”

Her voice rang out from the kitchen, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Max was up in an instant, his frustration vanishing in a second at the sound of her calling for him. "Coming!"

His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he left the room, disappearing around the corner.

That left me alone with Charles.

The air felt suffocating, like the oxygen had been sucked from the room. I sat there, stiff and unmoving, my hands pressing against my legs to keep from shaking.

Charles exhaled slowly, like he was letting go of something. Then, his gaze found me again.

“Do you understand now?”

I nodded.

His lips twitched slightly, almost like he was satisfied with my reaction. But it wasn’t a smile. It was something else. Something unreadable.

“Good,” he murmured.

Then—

Soft footsteps.

The tension snapped as she reentered the room, stepping into my line of sight.

And just like that, Charles was neutral again. Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes making sure I understood exactly how unforgiving they were willing to be if I so much as stepped a single centimeter out of line.

Max and Charles lingered for a few moments longer, neither fully trusting to leave, but knowing it was what she wanted.

“We’ll leave you two to talk,” Charles said, his tone neutral, though there was an edge of warning beneath it.

Max was less subtle. His sharp eyes met mine, and he tilted his head just slightly. “One yell,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “And we’ll be back.”

The weight of the unspoken and you don’t want that hung in the air.

But Y/N just smiled at them, warm and appreciative. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, both of you.”

They hesitated only a second longer before nodding and disappearing down the hall, the door to her office clicking shut behind them.

Silence settled between us.

I felt it in my bones—the heaviness, the years of distance, the unsaid words stretching between us like an ocean. But I couldn’t let her speak first.

I wouldn’t.

“I’ve had time to think,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. I forced myself to sit up straighter, to look at her. “To think about what I remember, what I missed, and what I never bothered to see.”

Her expression didn’t change, but she was listening.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. “And I hate myself for it.”

She blinked, but still, she stayed silent.

“I was blind,” I admitted. “Every time you tried to tell me, every moment you hinted at what was really going on—I didn’t listen. I didn’t see you the way I should have. And now, I need to understand. I need to know everything. The truth. No matter how hard it is to hear.”

For the first time since I got here, her face softened, something flickering in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

Then, she let out a breath and nodded.

“You know,” she began, her voice softer than I expected, “ever since we were kids, I idolized you.”

I blinked. That wasn’t where I thought she’d start.

“I wanted to be just like you,” she continued, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “I wanted to be as cool, as fearless, as free as my big brother.”

The ache in my chest grew.

“But our parents never wanted that,” she said, fingers idly toying with the sleeve of her brace. “You could be whoever you wanted, chase whatever dream you had, and they would cheer you on.”

Her hand tightened slightly on the fabric of the throw pillow in her lap. “But me?” She let out a quiet, breathy laugh—one that held no amusement. “I had to be perfect. Their perfect little princess. I had to be delicate, traditional, feminine. I had to learn how to be the kind of woman that wealthy men wanted. Because that’s all I ever was to them—an investment, a bargaining chip to keep our family climbing the social ladder.”

My stomach twisted violently.

“They let me race for one year,” she murmured. “One. And only because they thought I’d come crawling back, begging to be their good little girl again. They expected me to hate it. To break down, to realize that racing wasn’t for me, wasn’t for girls.”

She paused for a moment, looking down at her lap.

“And when I didn’t? When I loved it? They started playing their games—pushing, pulling, tearing me apart until I believed it myself. That I wasn’t good enough. That I would never be good enough. That the only person worth supporting was you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.

“And I gave it up,” she said, finally looking back at me, her eyes shining with something too complicated to name. “For you. Because I was twelve, and you had been doing it longer, and I thought maybe… maybe that made it fair.”

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“But it wasn’t fair, Jack.”

Her voice was quiet, but the weight of it crushed me.

“Do you have any idea what that did to me?” she asked, her tone barely above a whisper. “I lost the one thing I loved—the one thing that made me feel alive. And for weeks, I hated you for it. I blamed you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shame clawing at my insides.

“Until Uncle saw what I had become,” she continued, voice steady but heavy with something deeper. “How I was drowning in silence, how I was folding in on myself just to survive. He was the only one who saw it. The only one who actually cared.”

She exhaled slowly. “He helped me start karting again when I turned thirteen. He kept my secret. He let me have something that was mine.”

Her fingers traced absent patterns against the fabric of the pillow, gaze unfocused. “And now, look where his love got me.”

She didn’t need to say more.

I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay still, to take every word as I should—without defense, without excuse.

Her gaze lifted again, locking onto mine. “But you?” she said softly. “You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt. You don’t get to play the victim.”

I flinched, but I deserved it.

“Because every single thing I have done—every lie, every sacrifice, every moment I made myself small—was for you. For you.”

Her breath was shaky. “I played their perfect daughter so they wouldn’t drag you into the mess. I let them pretend I was their ideal little girl so they wouldn’t take it out on you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, voice quieter now. “And when I started beating you? When I got faster, better?” A faint, sad smile crossed her lips. “I told no one. Not a single soul. Because I didn’t want to take the spotlight from you—not even for a second.”

She let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Because I knew what it felt like to be invisible. To watch every single thing I accomplished get brushed under the rug, forgotten, ignored, because you had done something—anything—that they decided was more important.”

I felt sick.

Every memory I had of her childhood—of our childhood—was different now. I had been so blind, so utterly and painfully blind, to the girl standing in front of me.

She had given up everything for me. And I had never even noticed.

Silence stretched between us.

I felt my throat tighten, my hands gripping my knees as I forced myself to breathe.

“…That’s the truth, Jack.”

And just like that, the weight of everything she had carried for so long settled between us.

Heavy. Unavoidable. Real.

I looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in years, I saw my little sister—the one who used to chase after me, who used to smile like I hung the moon, who had once believed I was someone worth looking up to.

And all I could think was that I never wanted to let her down again.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, my chest aching with a weight I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to lift.

And then, before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out.

“I’m so sorry.”

My voice cracked, raw and uneven, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t try to hide it.

“I—God, Y/N, I have been the worst older brother on the planet. Ever.” My hands clenched into fists against my knees, my knuckles turning white, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment—except the fact that I had to get this out, that she had to hear me.

“I failed you,” I said, voice thick with guilt. “Again and again and again, I failed you. I should have seen it. I should have known. You were always right there, right in front of me, screaming for help in ways I never even bothered to hear.”

My breath shook as I looked up at her, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“You deserved better,” I whispered. “Better than them. Better than me.”

She didn’t say anything at first, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes—the doubt, the years of self-preservation that made her wary of believing me, of trusting that I truly meant it.

But I did.

I meant every single word.

“And I promise you,” I continued, forcing myself to hold her gaze, to let her see just how much I ached for what I had done, “I will be better. I will do better. For you. Always. I will be there for you whenever you ask—no, before you even have to ask. Because you shouldn’t have to. Not anymore.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent. My heart clenched in my chest. I had spent years being blind, being selfish, being everything a big brother shouldn’t be. But not anymore.

“I need you to know something else,” I said, voice trembling as I tried to get the words out. “How I reacted after your crash…” I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair, looking away for just a second before forcing myself to face her again. “That wasn’t what I really thought. Not even close.”

My jaw clenched, my nails digging into my palms.

“I don’t know why I reacted that way. I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but it was stupid, and I—God, I hate myself for it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, looking away, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. I wished she wouldn’t. I wished she would scream, that she would yell, scream, hit me—anything to make me feel at least a fraction of the pain she had endured for years.

“I should have been there for you,” I whispered. “I should have been the one fighting for you, the one making sure you weren’t alone, the one telling everyone else to shut the hell up because you deserved better than whatever bullshit they were spewing.”

My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands.

“But instead, I made it worse. I made everything worse. And I will never forgive myself for that.”

Silence settled between us for a moment, heavy but no longer suffocating. It wasn’t the kind of silence that built walls between us anymore—it was the kind that cracked them open, raw and vulnerable, laying everything bare.

Then, to my surprise, she let out a soft breath—almost a laugh, though it wasn’t quite happy.

“Jack…” she murmured, and I flinched, waiting for the blow, waiting for her to tell me that sorry wasn’t enough, that I had already ruined too much.

But instead, she reached forward, hesitantly placing her hand over mine.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I don’t need you to feel guilty, at least not like this” she said, her voice quiet but sure. “I just need you to mean what you say. I need you to prove it. Not just today, or tomorrow, but always.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “I will.”

She studied me for a long moment, and then, finally, she gave me the smallest, softest smile.

I let out a shaky breath and, before I could stop myself, turned my hand over so I could squeeze hers. It was the first time in years that I had felt like her brother. She squeezed my hand back.

I let out a choked laugh, running a hand down my face. “You know,” I said, voice still shaky, “I used to think that I was protecting you by not getting involved. By letting Mom and Dad handle things the way they wanted. I thought that was the right thing to do.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, her eyes darkening with something softer, something sadder.

“You weren’t protecting me,” she murmured. “You were just looking away.”

I flinched. But she didn’t let go of my hand. And somehow, that was enough to keep me from breaking apart completely. “I’m here now,” I said, voice quiet but certain. “And I swear to you—I will never look away again.”

Y/N inhaled sharply, like she was trying to hold something back. And then she nodded. I exhaled, my shoulders finally, finally relaxing.

It wasn’t everything. But it was a start.

I stood, feeling lighter, different. Determined.

“I’ll see you soon?” I asked, hesitant. Y/N smiled again, this time a little more sure. “Yeah.”

I nodded. Then, without another word, I turned and left, walking out the door with a purpose I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. This time, I wouldn’t fail her. Not now and Not ever again.

—

Watching Jack walk out the door, I felt something shift inside me—something fragile but real.

It wasn’t a grand moment of instant healing, no cinematic wave of relief crashing over me, but rather a slow, quiet mending. Like the first stitch in a wound too long left open, raw and aching. It would take time, I knew that. But for the first time in years, it felt truly possible.

I had braced myself for a fight, for yelling, for him standing his ground in our parents’ corner, throwing their words at me like daggers. I had prepared for the worst—prepared for him to tell me I was overreacting, that I needed to move on, that they were right, and I was just the problem child.

But instead, he had caught me completely off guard.

He had come to me with guilt. With regret. Not the kind you put on just to smooth things over, but something deeper, something that had been gnawing at him long before he even stepped through my door.

Someone else—someone who hadn’t spent years trying and failing to reach him, someone who hadn’t seen the real him before—might say he was gaslighting me, manipulating me into trusting him again just so he could hurt me down the line.

But I knew what I saw.

The look in his eyes, the way he carried himself, the way his voice wavered, as if he was afraid to even breathe wrong in my presence—this wasn’t the same person who had turned his back on me.

This was the boy I had once trusted with everything, standing in front of me again. Hesitant. Uncertain. But real. Himself.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe—just maybe—he had been suffering too. If maybe he had been trapped just like me, shaped and bent into something unrecognizable under the weight of our parents' expectations. If maybe he was only just now beginning to see it, beginning his own road to realization.

It was almost laughable. It had taken me nearly dying right in front of his eyes for him to finally open them.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The weight of it all sat heavy in my chest, but it didn’t hurt as much as before.

The front door had barely clicked shut when I heard another door creak open behind me. I rolled my eyes before I even turned around.

Two familiar faces peeked out from my office, their wide, curious eyes locked onto me like two overgrown children sneaking out of bed past curfew.

Max and Charles.

They grinned the moment I turned to look at them, the warmth in their faces softening the last of my tension. Neither of them hesitated as they stepped fully into the living room, each claiming a spot on either side of me on the couch. They didn’t press me immediately, but I could feel their quiet scrutiny, the way their gazes searched my face, scanning me for the answer before I even gave it.

I sighed. I knew they wouldn’t let this go.

“It went a lot better than I expected,” I admitted, leaning back against the cushions. “I can honestly say he really thought about everything. He feels guilty. Deeply guilty. He knows what he let our parents put me through, and he hates himself for it.”

Max and Charles exchanged a look—one of those silent conversations they somehow always had without speaking. Suspicion lingered in their expressions, doubt clouding their eyes.

Max turned back first, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “Are you sure you can trust what he says?”

I hesitated, not because I doubted myself, but because I understood why they were skeptical.

“I believe him,” I said carefully. “The version of him that walked in—it was the brother I remembered racing with my first year. The brother who stood up for me in the paddock, even when it meant going against our parents. Before they got to him, before he was brainwashed into whatever version of himself he’s been for the last six years.”

I reached for the small framed photo on the coffee table, brushing my fingers over the glass.

It was an old picture—our first family 1-2 finish. Jack on the top step of the podium, me on the second. His arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning like we had the entire world at our feet.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“The boy in this photo,” I murmured, “he was the most raw, the most real version of himself. Untouched by criticism, unburdened by expectations. That’s the same person who walked through my front door today.”

I set the photo down, inhaling slowly. “And it was him who walked out, too.”

Max and Charles didn’t say anything, letting me speak at my own pace.

“It’s going to take time for him to earn back what he lost in me,” I continued, voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me. “But this… this was a start. And for the first time, I feel hopeful for the future with him.”

Silence settled over us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was understanding.

I reached out, finding both their hands and intertwining my fingers with theirs. My thumb traced absentminded circles against their skin, grounding myself in the warmth of their presence.

“But no matter what happens, I’m not tied down to the idea of what he was supposed to be for me anymore,” I said softly. “If he were to walk back through that door right now and say he didn’t actually want to try, that he still hated me, or whatever bullshit negativity he could throw at me… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

Their hands instinctively tightened around mine.

“Because I have you,” I whispered, looking between them. “And the rest of the boys. I have a family. A real family. One that I chose, one that chose me. I have people in my corner, people who will always be here for me, no matter what.”

Max’s jaw tensed, and he quickly looked away, but I caught the soft pink hue dusting his cheeks.

Charles, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide his emotions. His eyes glistened, his lips parting slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t have to.

The way he squeezed my hand—gentle, reassuring—said enough.

I let my head rest back against the couch, closing my eyes for just a second, allowing myself to breathe.

For the first time in a long, long while, I wasn’t looking backward.

I was looking forward.

And that?

That felt like progress.

Masterlist

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[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: take a bow [1.7k, fluff?]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀never put michaela, max, and seb in a press room together. ✼. notes:⠀seb is and will always be michaela #1 defender. ✼. warnings:⠀none!

✼.⠀OCTOBER 24, 2020 — portimão, portugal

"Michaela, tell us about your strategy for tomorrow's race." A journalist called out, as the buzz of the crowded room grew expectant.

Michaela leaned back in her chair and took a sip of water before addressing the sea of faces. "Strategy?" She echoed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I plan to start from 17th, work my way through the pack, and then just teleport to the top step of the podium. What do you think of that, Max?"

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the side. "Sounds perfectly possible," He quipped, earning a round of laughter from the room. Sebastian, ever the accomplice to their comedic duo, nodded wistfully. "If only we had that technology."

The room lightened up a bit, the tension of the intense qualifying session dissipating. Another journalist, seemingly not in on the joke, fired off a more serious question. "Michaela, your performance at the Tuscan Grand Prix was historic, but since then, your team has struggled. How do you plan to overcome the recent setbacks?"

Michaela's smile remained, but her eyes narrowed in recognition of the journalist's voice. Anthony Georges, a motorsports reporter for the BBC, had never been shy to challenge Michaela's dodges. From her Formula 2 days, Georges had been the bane of her existence. The very reason she had walked out of a press conference during the first race of the 2018 season.

"Well, I've been taking inspiration from my latest shopping trip. You know, you might not find what you're looking for right away, but with persistence and a bit of luck, you can still come home with something special." She winked at the Brit, her words another clever dodge.

The room rippled with laughter again, but the journalist pressed on. "I meant technically speaking. What is Alfa Romeo doing to improve?" His lips pressed into a stern line, graying eyebrows furrowed in a smug, accusatory expression.

Michaela's expression softened as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Look, we're working tirelessly behind the scenes. It's not just about slapping on a new wing or tweaking the engine. We're in the middle of a season that's thrown more curveballs than you can imagine. But we're a team and together we're navigating these challenges."

The room fell quiet for a brief moment, Georges seemingly at a loss for a comeback for the moment. Sebastian, ever the opportunist, jumped in. "And let's not forget, she's still the only one here who's managed to avoid hitting a wall this weekend. That has to count for something, right?"

The tension broke again, the room erupting in sporadic chuckles. Max couldn't resist a laugh either, remembering his own unfortunate incident earlier in the weekend.

"Speaking of walls," Another journalist said. "What do you make of the criticism that your recent DNF in Sochi is a sign that you're not cut out for this level of racing?"

Michaela's smile never wavered. "Ah, the infamous 'female driver' stereotype," She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, if you ask me, I'd say it's more about the car and the track than my gender. But, hey, if you want to believe that I'm secretly trying to redecorate the circuits with my car parts, go ahead. That's not my problem."

The room was filled with a mix of shocked expressions and snickers. Sebastian leaned forward, a glint in his eye. "I must admit, I've hit a few walls in my time," He said with a self-deprecating grin. "It's part of the job description, isn't it?"

Michaela nodded solemnly, playing along. "Absolutely, Sebastian. It's in the fine print right under 'must be able to operate under extreme G-forces' and 'capable of consuming copious amounts of energy drinks.'" Her reference to energy drinks is emphasized by Max who lifts his own RedBull energy drink in a mocking toast.

A journalist, a newer face in the pressroom, from the back of the room, emboldened by Georges' initial challenge, decided to jump into the fray. "But isn't it true that your teammate Kimi Raikkonen seems to handle the car better?"

Michaela's eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked over at her press officer, Beata Gasparro, who motioned frantically for her to keep her calm. "Kimi's a legend," She said, "But let's not forget, he's also got more than a decade on me. I've got plenty of time to get the hang of it."

"I'd like to add that Mickey's actually doing relatively better than Kimi this season. She's outperformed him at all races this season except for what?" Sebastian spoke up in defense of the former Ferrari reserve driver.

He glanced towards Michaela and Max, knowing the two of them would know the answer to his question. The Alfa Romeo driver decided to remain quiet, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the questioning journalist.

Max jumped in her stead responding with a casual, "Spa and Sochi.", and a smile as if punctuating the point. Sebastian nodded at the answer, closing the question off with, "I'm sure Kimi won't mind me saying that."

"He doesn’t care much about anything these days," Michaela muttered under her breath. The cheeky remark had the room in stitches again. Kimi was notorious for his icy personality, so it was no secret that his preference for not speaking much was a running joke in the paddock.

The journalist's face reddened, but he maintained his composure. "What about the psychological aspect, then? Do you feel any extra pressure being the first woman to achieve such a feat?"

Michaela leaned forward, her gaze intense. "I'm a driver, not a pioneer on a mission to prove anything about my gender. The pressure I feel is the same as any of these guys feel—to win races and do the best I can for the team. And honestly, if I let every question about my gender throw me off, I'd never get out of bed in the morning. So, let's talk about racing, yeah?"

Her words hit the journalist like a cold splash of water, but as she sensed an opportunity, she added fuel to the fire. "You know, we've got a race to talk about tomorrow. Maybe we should focus on the actual cars going around in circles instead of my inability to pee standing up." The room erupted in laughter, even Georges couldn't help but crack a smile.

"But seriously," Michaela continued, her tone earnest now, "I race because I love it. Because I'm good at it. And because every time I get into the cockpit, I'm racing against the best in the world, regardless of their gender. Now, if you have any more questions about the actual racing, I'd be happy to answer them. Otherwise, I think we're all set here."

Sebastian's hum of approval only served to embolden Michaela in knowing she had properly shut down the years of gendered attacks on her and her abilities.

"Alright, alright," Georges jumped in, seemingly admitting defeat, raising his hands in mock surrender. "We'll stick to the racing, as the lady wishes." He leaned back in his chair, a glint of respect in his eyes. "But, let's talk about strategy for real this time. What's the game plan for tomorrow?"

Michaela leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips. "Strategy doesn't work if you explain it," She quipped before taking a deep breath and giving a more serious response. "We're going to play it smart, work the tires, and hope for some good old-fashioned racing luck. That's all I can say without giving away our secret sauce."

The press conference continued, with questions flying from all angles, but the mood had shifted. The journalists, though still probing, had been put in their place and were now receiving the kind of answers that didn't feed into their narratives.

Michaela's responses remained sharp, and she was practiced at pivoting the conversation back to the race. "Tomorrow's going to be a tough one," She said, her eyes scanning the room, "But that's what we live for, right?" She grinned at Max and Sebastian, who nodded in agreement.

As the conference drew to a close, Michaela thanked the journalists with a wink directed towards the BBC reporter. As she received a smile that formed a semblance of respect between the two of them, she left the room a bit lighter. With Beata on her tail, however, she could feel the scolding coming from the middle-aged Italian woman.

"Michaela, you can't just say things like that," Beata whispered in rushed Italian urgently as they navigated through the corridors of the Algarve International Circuit.

Michaela turned to her, her smile never leaving her face. "Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"

Beata sighed. "It's a fine line, Mickey. You don't want to be seen as disrespectful."

Michaela raised an eyebrow. "But I'm not. I'm just telling them to stick to the racing. I've earned that much, don't you think so?" The unspoken insinuation of all the hardship Michaela had been forced to navigate with the confrontational press during her junior career hung in the air.

With a tinge of acceptance, Beata sighed, "Why can I never win with you?"

Michaela just laughed as they approached the team's garage. "You know, I'm not trying to make enemies," She said, her voice growing softer. "But I've had enough of the bullshit. It's about time someone called them out." Her famously near-perfect Italian caught the ears of some of the mechanics who laughed in recognition, knowing how fed up the Australian had been in recent weeks.

"I know, I know," Beata sighed, her stern expression softening into one of understanding. "But you've got to be smart, Mickey. You can't let them get under your skin."

Michaela nodded, her eyes focused on the garage ahead. "I'm not letting them get under my skin. I'm just not going to let them define me anymore." She paused, looking back at her press officer. "You saw the crap I got when I first started. This is nothing."

Beata's expression softened. "You're right. You've come a long way. But we're at the highest level now, and the stakes are higher."

Michaela nodded, her eyes gleaming with determination. "I know. And that's exactly why I'm going to keep pushing back. I've earned my seat here, and I'm not going to let anyone question that anymore."

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Media Day - Aussie GP 2019 - Part 3

A new team? With two females? This is unheard of and will most certainly shake things up in F1! Meet Y/n Rose-Ocean and Evelyn Match as they get assigned seats into a new team into the F1, Porsche Royal racing. Y/n holds the number 38 whilst Evelyn holds the number 72. The two are introduced as rookies in the 2019 season, but, their area has been yet to be revealed, it being closed by tarps, and the two girls' identities have also remained a secret. Over time, even though she’s one of the youngest, she soon becomes the “grid aunt” and even “grid older/younger sister” as well.

Warnings for this chapter: Google translated English to Spanish, English to Thai, English to Greek

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Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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Continuing on...

"Rápido, cúbrete la cabeza cariño," (Quick, cover your head darling)," Fernando rushingly tells me whilst I'm just still in shock and he reaches over, after probally seeing me not moving, and hastily, but gently, puts the hood back over my head and leans down to pick up the glasses that I somehow didn't even realsie fell off.

"Gracias Fernando," (Thank you, Fernando), I tell him with a deep appreciation and get a firm nod in response before he decides to talk, "You might want to hurry up to your interview now, it's only a few minutes away and you may need to jog there darling." With that comment, I feel my eyes widen once more before smiling at the man that I've been a fan of since forever, and start a quick jog whilst calling out to him, "Gracias de nuevo Fernando, nos vemos por ahí!" (Thank you again, Fernando, see you around!) and can't catch his reply due to the distance that I've put.

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Small time skip

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"So, number 38, who would you say is the driver that you look up to the most at this current point in time?" I sit up straighter, surprised by the question since, surprisingly, it hasn't been asked yet and I now have to try and hide my giddiness, "That would be Fernando Alonso or Sebastian Vettel. They've always been my inspiration and I've always looked up to them. Fernando is actually my reason for starting my journey. But that's a story for another time." The journalists seem to really like that answer as each and every one of them, I can see, jot down some notes.

"Number 72, same question." Ev glances quickly to me before looking back forward and saying, "Kimi Raikkonen. The Ice Man." Everyone looks at her expectantly, "What?" She questions, "Aren't you going to say why?" She just shrugs her shoulders at this and remains silent whilst I've been trying to hold in my laugh, I have to hold up my fist to my mouth to stay silent and also just to keep it contained.

"Nạ̀n pĕn reụ̄̀xng tlk," (That was funny), I whisper to her, "C̄hạn phyāyām," (I try), she responds causing me to snort and lean into her shoulder before sitting back up again to focus back in.

This goes on for a little while longer, good questions, bad questions, questioning questions, and also questions that are trying to figure out Ev's and mines identities, but we know better. We've been trained better then this.

"Question for the both of you," We both hum to this, urging them to go on, "Will we hear your voices when racing this weekend, or no? Cause if so, wouldn't that just reveal who you are?" Me and Ev look to each other, before she gestures for me to speak, "No, you will not hear our actual voices like how right now, you're not," this comment makes the room murmur, before someone asks, "What do you mean?" I respond quickly with, "What I mean is that we have a voice changer on right now. That's all I'll say."

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Time skip to end of day

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NOTIFICATION ALERT!

1 NEW POST FROM evelynmatch7

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Late nights with my little sister = the best nights ever!!

Tagged: y/n_roseocean

❤️ 527K    💬 5,450   ✈️ 3,178

Liked by y/n_roseocean, lance_stroll✹ and 527,439 others

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y/n_roseocean I love you so much!! Best sister ever! Such a fun night!!! ❤️ by author

Liked by evelynmatch7 and 899 others

- evelynmatch7 Maybe even best sibling? 🤨

Liked by y/n_roseocean and 409 others

--- hassanbakes Uh- no. Most definitely not Evelyn

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----- atlasscott Yeah, sorry Ev, you don't even come close to the top

Liked by y/n_roseocean and 790 others

lance_stroll✹ And where are the photo credits evelynmatch7? ❤️ by author

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- evelynmatch7 😊

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allieform1 My girlsss!! You two will forever be stars to me and I will be waiting for the day that you make it into Formula 1!! Only a matter of time!! ❤️ by author

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cloversand889 So cute!

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ericmarshells 🙄😒

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y/n_roseocean Can't wait for tomorrow! Hagamos esto!

See translation (Let's do this!)

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 6,298 others

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Small time skip to dinner

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"Mmm... this is so good Hassan, thank you," Ev basically praises him, "I am glad you like it, they're some new dishes I'm trying out for the restaurant," he explains to her, "Well, you should definitely add it," she points to him with her fork.

The meal tonight is a Vegan Red Lentil Curry with some Vangi Bath, Vegan Naan, Aloo Matar Samosas, Vegan Potato Salad with Turmeric and Green Peas and Kachumber. With dessert being an option of either Carrot Halwa Trifle or Paleo Kulfi.

"So, how are you girls feeling about tomorrow?" Ev's father asks as he picks up some naan bread, "Pretty good, you know, still nervous but who wouldn't be?" Ev responds to him as he hums in agreement, "Kápoios pou prépei na prosécho to mikró?" (Anyone I need to keep an eye on little one?) Dad asks me in Greek making me stare at him in shock and I feel a slight blush rise up to my cheeks, "Bampás! Óchi! Kai akóma ki an ypírche, den eínai dikí sou douleiá!" (Dad! No! And even if there was, that is none of your business) I scold him as he chuckles and so do my brothers that are here.

Hassan has a night off tonight, Javiar is off being a DJ at some club nearby, Atlas just arrived home around three hours ago from rehearsals, and Nolan has just been home all day working on his next novel. Dad got home around an hour ago, and Papá was working from home today, so he and Nolan kept each other company alongside my baby River. From Evelyn's family, her father and stepmother are here, her uncle and aunt from her dad's side, her three grandmas, two from her dad's side, one from her mother's, and two of her grandpas are here, one from each side.

All I'll say is, it's lucky that we have a big dining table.

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Small time skip to a little while after dinner

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I stand on my balcony of my room in my stripped pink Peter Alexander pj's and just look out to the sky. It's a peaceful night with crickets making their usual quiet noise and the moon shining bright with it occasionally getting blocked by the clouds. Everything is going to change on Sunday afternoon.

Being honest, I don't know if I'm fully ready. But Porche Racing did pick me. I just have to keep remembering that. I need to do this for my family, for Evelyn, for River.

I can do this.

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Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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