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hookhausenschips · 15 days

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Fight Past, Love Present

Masterlist

Summary: As the truth of Y/N's past came to light, both Charles and Y/N were faced with a barrage of judgment and criticism from fans and the media alike. But amidst the chaos, their love for each other remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the face of adversity.

Word Count: 3,528

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Charles Leclerc taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane

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Charles’ POV

As I walked into the party, the first thing that struck me was the lively atmosphere. The room was filled with laughter and chatter, and I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the noise and energy. I scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, but mostly finding strangers.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her – Y/N. She stood alone in the corner, a quiet confidence radiating from her as she observed the room. There was something about her that drew me in, a magnetic presence that I couldn't ignore.

I made my way over to her, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement as I approached. Our mutual friend introduced us, and as our eyes met, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. There was an instant connection between us, a spark that ignited the moment our hands touched in greeting.

We fell into conversation effortlessly, the noise of the party fading into the background as we talked. Y/N was easy to talk to, her warmth and openness putting me at ease. We laughed and joked, sharing stories and discovering common interests as if we had known each other for years.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to Y/N more and more, captivated by her intelligence, humor, and beauty. Time seemed to slip away as we talked, and before I knew it, the party was winding down and people were starting to leave.

But even as the night came to an end, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just met someone truly special. As I said goodbye to Y/N, I knew that this was only the beginning of an incredible journey together. And as I walked away from the party, a smile playing on my lips, I couldn't wait to see where our connection would take us.

Y/N’s POV

The music thumped in the background, the bass reverberating through the crowded room as people laughed and danced around me. I stood in the corner, nursing a drink and trying to blend into the chaos of the party. Social gatherings like this weren't exactly my scene, but when my friend insisted I come along, I reluctantly agreed.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on him – Charles. He walked in with an air of confidence, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he greeted familiar faces. There was something about him that drew me in, something magnetic and irresistible.

Our mutual friend spotted me and made his way over, dragging Charles along with him. "Y/N, this is Charles. Charles, meet Y/N," he said, introducing us with a grin. Charles extended his hand, and I took it, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through me at the contact.

We started talking, and before I knew it, we were engrossed in conversation, oblivious to the world around us. We talked about everything – from our favorite music to our dreams and aspirations. Despite the noise and chaos of the party, it felt like we were in our own little bubble, cocooned from the outside world.

As the night wore on, I found myself opening up to Charles in a way I hadn't with anyone else. There was something about him that made me feel safe, understood, and valued. And as we laughed and shared stories, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

Looking back, that party was a turning point in my life – the moment I met Charles and felt the spark of something special ignite between us. Little did I know that our chance encounter would be the start of a love story that would change both of our lives forever.

Charles’ POV

As I pulled into the garage, the smell of oil and gasoline filled the air, instantly transporting me back to my childhood days spent tinkering with cars in my father's workshop. The garage was a hive of activity, with mechanics bustling about, their hands busy with tools and equipment.

I parked my car and stepped out, taking a moment to appreciate the organized chaos around me. That's when I spotted her – Y/N.

She was hunched over the hood of a car, a grease-stained rag in one hand and a wrench in the other, completely engrossed in her work.

I watched in awe as she worked, her movements fluid and confident as she tinkered with the engine. There was a determination in her eyes, a passion for her craft that was impossible to ignore.

Despite the male-dominated nature of the industry, Y/N held her own with ease, commanding respect and admiration from her colleagues.

I approached her cautiously, not wanting to interrupt her concentration. When she finally looked up and noticed me, I felt a surge of nerves and excitement coursing through me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

We exchanged greetings, and I couldn't help but be drawn in by her warmth and sincerity. Y/N was unlike any mechanic I had ever encountered – knowledgeable, skilled, and unapologetically herself. As we talked, I found myself hanging on her every word, captivated by her passion for cars and her unwavering confidence.

At that moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the garage, I knew that I had stumbled upon something truly special. Y/N wasn't just a mechanic – she was a force to be reckoned with, a woman who defied stereotypes and broke barriers with every turn of the wrench.

As I left the garage that day, a newfound sense of excitement burning in my chest, I couldn't wait to see where this unexpected encounter would lead. Little did I know that Y/N would soon become so much more than just a mechanic – she would become the love of my life.

Y/N’s POV

The day started like any other at the auto repair shop where I worked. I was elbow-deep in grease and engine parts, lost in the comforting rhythm of my work. Little did I know, my world was about to be turned upside down.

As I wiped my hands on a rag, a familiar voice broke through the noise of the shop. I turned to see Charles Leclerc standing before me, his presence commanding attention even in this gritty environment. My heart skipped a beat as I took in his appearance – the confident stride, the easy smile, the hint of vulnerability lurking behind his eyes.

He was here to get his car checked, he explained, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. I couldn't help but be taken aback. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? But before I could dwell on it too long, I got to work, my hands moving deftly as I inspected his car with practiced expertise.

As we chatted, I felt a connection forming between us – a spark of something special that I couldn't quite put into words. Charles was different from anyone I had ever met – kind, genuine, and unafraid to show his vulnerable side. And as we shared stories and laughed together, I found myself drawn to him in a way I had never experienced before.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was a tension in the air – an unspoken acknowledgment of the attraction simmering beneath the surface. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the task at hand, but the pull of his presence was too strong to resist.

As Charles left the shop that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine. Little did I know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a journey that would take us both on a whirlwind ride of love, passion, and unexpected twists and turns.

Charles’ POV

It was a sunny day at the paddock, with the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming race here in Monaco. As I made my way through the throngs of people, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness gnawing at me. Today was the day Y/N would be joining me in the paddock for the first time, and I couldn't wait to show her off to the world.

As I caught sight of her standing by the garage, my heart skipped a beat. She looked stunning in a simple jeans and t-shirt combo, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. But it wasn't her appearance that caught my attention; it was the way she carried herself – with confidence and poise, despite the sea of curious eyes on her.

Taking her hand in mine, I led her through the paddock, introducing her to my teammates and fellow drivers. The reactions were mixed – some greeted her with warmth and enthusiasm, while others eyed her warily, no doubt judging her.

But Y/N took it all in stride, flashing her trademark smile and engaging everyone she met with ease. She was a natural in the paddock, effortlessly charming everyone she encountered. And as we posed for photos together, her hand in mine, I felt a surge of pride swell within me. This was my girlfriend, and I couldn't have been happier to show her off to the world.

Y/N’s POV

Flashes from the cameras of fans and paps followed Charles and me as soon as we made it to the gate. He grabbed my hand after scanning his pass smiling at me.

Stepping into the paddock at the Monaco Grand Prix was like entering a whole new world. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance adding to the electric atmosphere. As Charles led me through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the spectacle unfolding around me.

But beneath the excitement lurked a nagging sense of nervousness. This was my first time in the paddock, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the glamorous surroundings and high-profile personalities. Would I be accepted by Charles' colleagues and fans, or would I be judged for my lack of pedigree and connections?

As we made our way through the paddock, Charles introduced me to his teammates and fellow drivers, each handshake and smile easing my nerves bit by bit. They greeted me warmly, their genuine curiosity and interest putting me at ease. For the first time, I felt like I belonged like I was part of something bigger than myself.

Charles’ POV

I felt a surge of excitement coursing through my veins. This was my home race, the pinnacle of the Formula 1 calendar, and I couldn't wait to share it with Y/N by my side.

As we navigated through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in introducing Y/N to my world. She may not have grown up in the glitz and glamour of the racing scene, but her presence added a sense of freshness and authenticity that I found refreshing.

Introducing Y/N to my team and fellow drivers was a surreal experience. They greeted her warmly, their curiosity piqued by the presence of someone new in the paddock. But as they chatted and laughed together, I could see the barriers melting away, replaced by a genuine camaraderie that transcended the confines of the racing world.

But the real test came when we posed for photos together, our relationship debuting to the world for the first time. As the cameras flashed and the onlookers snapped pictures, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at having Y/N by my side. She may not have grown up in the racing world, but she belonged here just as much as I did.

As the day unfolded, I watched with a mixture of pride and admiration as Y/N embraced the chaos and excitement of the paddock with open arms. She may have been new to this world, but she tackled it with confidence and grace that left me in awe.

And as we watched the sunset over the Monaco harbor, hand in hand, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. No matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as we had each other, we could face them head-on, with love and unwavering support guiding us every step of the way.

Third Person POV

As the Monaco Grand Prix concluded and the excitement of the race faded, a cloud of uncertainty hung over Charles and Y/N. Unbeknownst to them, the tranquility they had experienced in the paddock was about to be shattered.

The news of Charles Leclerc dating Y/N Y/L/N, a woman with a violent past, spread like wildfire through the media. Sensational headlines screamed across tabloids, accompanied by old videos of Y/N getting into fights from her troubled youth. Speculation ran rampant, with pundits and commentators questioning Charles' judgment and the future of their relationship.

Social media platforms were ablaze with debates and discussions about whether Charles should be associated with someone with such a checkered past. Some fans came to his defense, citing Y/N's transformation and redemption as evidence of her growth. Others, however, were less forgiving, lambasting Charles for his perceived lapse in judgment and urging him to distance himself from Y/N.

The intense scrutiny took a toll on both Charles and Y/N, as they struggled to navigate the storm of negativity while maintaining their privacy and dignity. But amidst the chaos, their love for each other remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the face of adversity.

Y/N’s POV

Returning to the hotel room after the race, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me. Something felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. As Charles checked his phone, I watched his expression shift from confusion to concern, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

It didn't take long for me to realize what had happened. Someone had dug up my past, unearthed old videos of me getting into fights, and plastered them all over the internet. The comments were brutal, filled with judgment and condemnation, questioning my character and worthiness of being with Charles.

I was blindsided. Seeing my past splashed across headlines and dissected by strangers was a surreal and gut-wrenching experience. I knew my past was far from perfect, but I had worked hard to leave it behind and build a better life for myself.

I felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over me. I had worked so hard to leave my past behind me, to build a better life for myself, and now it was being thrown back in my face for the world to see. How could I face Charles after this? How could he possibly still want to be with someone like me?

But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that surprised me – unwavering support and love. He didn't judge me for my past; instead, he stood by me, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together. He saw past my mistakes and loved me for who I was, scars and all. With him by my side, I found the strength to face the storm head-on, refusing to let the haters bring me down.

And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the world threw our way, as long as we had each other, we could overcome anything.

Charles’ POV

After the race, I returned to our hotel room with Y/N, a sense of contentment enveloping us. We had shared an incredible day together, basking in the adrenaline and excitement of the Grand Prix. But as I checked my phone, my heart sank at the sight of the notifications flooding in.

Messages from fans, journalists, and even my team flooded my inbox, all asking about Y/N's past. Confusion and concern washed over me as I frantically scrolled through the messages, trying to piece together what had happened.

It didn't take long for me to find out. Someone had unearthed old videos of Y/N's past, clips of her getting into fights and standing her ground against anyone who dared to disrespect her. The comments section was filled with judgment and criticism, with some even questioning my judgment for being with her.

I felt a surge of anger and frustration welling up inside me. How could people be so quick to judge Y/N based on her past mistakes? Didn't they see the person she had become, the strength and resilience that defined her?

But amidst the chaos, one thing became clear – I needed to confront this head-on. I couldn't let the haters tear us apart, not after everything we had been through together. So, I made a decision to stand by Y/N, to defend her against the onslaught of negativity and judgment that threatened to engulf us.

As Media Day dawned for the next race, I knew that the looming specter of questions about Y/N's past would cast a shadow over the proceedings. The journalists gathered around me, their pens poised and cameras ready, eager to pounce on any hint of vulnerability or doubt.

But I was determined not to let them catch me off guard. I had prepared for this moment, rehearsing my responses in my mind until they felt like second nature. As the questions began to fly, I met them head-on, refusing to flinch or falter in the face of adversity.

I spoke passionately about Y/N, about the woman she had become, and the battles she had fought to overcome her past. I didn't sugarcoat the truth or try to sweep her past under the rug. Instead, I spoke candidly about the challenges we had faced together and the love that had carried us through it all.

With each answer, I could feel the tension in the room easing, the skepticism giving way to understanding and acceptance. I didn't try to convince the journalists to change their minds – I simply shared my truth and let them make up their own minds.

By the end of the interviews, I could see a shift in the atmosphere. The journalists no longer saw Y/N as a troubled soul with a violent past; they saw her as a survivor, a woman who had risen above her circumstances and found redemption in the arms of love.

As I walked away from Media Day, I felt a sense of pride wash over me. I had faced the media head-on, defending Y/N and our relationship with every fiber of my being. And as I looked ahead to the future, I knew that no amount of scrutiny or judgment could ever shake the love we shared.

Charles' approach to confronting the media was one of honesty, transparency, and unwavering conviction. He refused to let the doubts and skepticism of others dictate his narrative, instead choosing to speak his truth and defend his love for Y/N with every fiber of his being. And in doing so, he earned the respect and admiration of both the media and fans alike.

Y/N’s POV

As the media frenzy surrounding my past reached a fever pitch, I knew I couldn't stay silent any longer. I needed to speak my truth, to show the world that I was more than just the sum of my mistakes. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and confront the media head-on.

I recorded a video, pouring my heart out to the camera and baring my soul for all to see. I spoke about my troubled past, the mistakes I had made, and the journey of redemption that had led me to where I am today. But most importantly, I spoke about my love for Charles and the unwavering support he had shown me through it all.

Posting the video was nerve-wracking, to say the least. I didn't know how people would react, whether they would believe me or dismiss me as just another troubled soul looking for sympathy. But I refused to let fear hold me back. I needed to speak my truth, to show the world that I was more than just my past mistakes.

The response to the video was overwhelming. People from all walks of life reached out to offer words of support and encouragement, telling me how my story had inspired them to confront their own demons and strive for a better life. And as I read through the messages, tears streaming down my face, I knew that I had made the right decision to speak out.

Y/N’s approach to confronting the media was one of courage, vulnerability, and unwavering honesty. She refused to let the judgment of others define her, instead choosing to speak her truth and share her journey of redemption with the world. And in doing so, she inspired countless others to do the same, proving that love and resilience can triumph over even the darkest of pasts.

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saintescuderia · 27 days

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pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, a Spanish man, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

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@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

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