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[blerb-f1]

Immortals / Centuries Max Verstappen & NB!Reader

They were like a ghost in the pit of Formula One. Everyone saw them like a piece of furniture, a constant that stayed unchanging. That’s what they were - constant. No one spoke about them, no one photographed them. Like a big shared secret, even the media abstained from ever considering them an icon before their lens.

Yet, history showed them throughout the years. The 10th september 1961, Monza. Wolfgang von Trips collided with Jim Clark, passing away in the accident. They were there, seen directing medical health and other advisors, just barely visible in the background. 

That same Italian grand prix, nine years later, they were there again. The horrible day that took Jochen Rindt.

Some people considered them a bad omen yet that sentiment had died out over the time. Their body unchanging, their mind staying sharp. Having seen death for so many times, they had become an audible figure, greatly advocating for safety.  So when refueling had been reinstated in 1994, they were greatly angered and fearful for the drivers lives.

For the years they’d spent watching over the races, chatting with sponsors and consulting staff, they’d always stay with one team for a season. Be it a successful one or one on the decline - they didn’t judge in any way. They’d frequently chat with Niki Lauda, seeing him grow old over the years was rough but they were very glad to have him around. He was still a man of the old mindset, less caring about their origins and more about their personality. And money, after all, finance was his origin. 

That day in 1994, they sat with the Benetton mechanics. Benneton was a great team for them to be around, so young and riddled with fresh ideas and talent. Niki Lauda, a frequent yet unseen guest was visiting them again. He didn’t care too much for the team, just appearing for their old friend.

Slowly he settled onto one of the chairs they had placed around, letting out a sigh. “Y/N, truly am I jealous of you sometimes.”

Y/N laid their head to the side, grinning. Their currently very fashionable pinned up hair falling to the side. They were such a victim to trends, always following along or partaking. Trends were a good way to hide or disappear under.

“Aging sucks, you know that?” Niki cursed, sorting his iconic red hat.

With a chuckle, Y/N punched his shoulder. “Shouldn't you head back to Ferrari? You’re their advisor, not ours. And I bet you 20 Mark that nobody wants the enemy in their pit.”

He looked at her with an offended face. “This old man walks all the way to meet you and what do you do? Tell me to fuck off. Also ‘not ours’? You change allegiances faster than underwear.”

They shook their head. “Niki, you know how it is. I can’t stay long anywhere. Also, what are you talking about, old man? What are you, barely 45?”

“I look old compared to you, you know. This face doesn’t make me look like an icon of vitality.”

“Can’t you send Gerhard over? He’s more fun than you.”

Niki cursed again. Y/N would always tease him like that.

With a serious expression he turned towards them again. “That Schumacher..”

“Go on Niki, speak your words.”

“You are very annoying, did anyone tell you that?”

"Absolutely. Stirling Moss would always banter with me.”

He cursed again. “Anyway, that Schumacher guy. Has he got a long contract? Because I think we could use a driver like that. Jean isn’t the youngest anymore and Gerhard also could use a break, I think.”

“Want to steal our driver? No way in hell! Leave right now!”

Y/N jokingly lifted Niki out of his chair, taking one of the brooms to shoo him away. He came to a quick standstill, however. His face was serious again. “Y/N, i’ve known you awhile. Whenever you stay so glued to a team, something happens. What will-”

His words were cut off by them whistling a tune. The chain by Fleetwood Mac. 

He sighed, finally leaving.

Y/N took the chance to head into the garage, “What’s Upping” a few of the mechanics and sending Michael a nod. Finally they had reached their target, young reserve driver Jos Verstappen. Or half reserve driver, since Benneton originally had set their horses on JJ Lehto. He was just lacing up his boots, looking in the air with a concentrated expression. He knew this race would not be his to shine. This was the German GP of 1994, the homerace of driver number 1, Michael Schumacher.

They just padded his shoulder with a constrained expression. Jos knew, this meant something bad would happen. He hoped it just wouldn't hit him.

As destiny however had planned before his prayers, he was the one incurring it’s wrath. Refueling gone wrong, his body on fire. Y/N had stood in the pits watching, the flames reflecting on their eyes. Afterwards Niki had approached them again, his lips pressed into a stern line. “Will there be more of this crap, this season?”

Y/N looked up at him in pain. “You better steel your heart Lauda. Because I already did.”

Multiple smaller incidents but nothing could overshadow the pain left in everyone's hearts. The loss of Senna and Ratzenberger. Afterwards, Niki had reconsidered his friendship with Y/N. They were almost like a harbinger of doom. In some way it was comforting however. He knew they’d tell him if he were to get hurt.

In 1997, at one such Grand Prix he had seen them again. The hairs on his arms standing up, cold shivers running down his back. Y/N just comforted them. “Nothing bad this time, Niki. I’m here to meet our future.”

“Our future?” He asked. 

“Come and see” was their reply, leading the dazzled man up to the Tyrrel pit box. There, a soft baby's cry could be heard. A little red faced thing was there, wrapped into a soft blanket, looking very young.

“Hello Jos!” Y/N had exclaimed. “I brought a friend to see your youngling!”

The man had looked up in surprise at Niki Lauda standing there, staring at his son. “Uhm.” With a still unsure expression he slowly lifted the babe up. “Nice to meet you, Niki. This is my Son, MaxEmilian.”

Niki took the baby for a moment, just as unsure as the fresh baked father before handing it to Y/N. They gingerly held it, staring into those little, still so young looking eyes. Their eyes darting towards Jos for a moment before going back to little Max. “You will have a hard early life, little one. I wish I could help you but I cannot, always destined to be a bystander.”  They lifted one of the fingers which the baby seemed to follow. “But I know that you will prevail, proving yourself. If there’s anyone that can be considered our future, that’ll be you.”

5 years later at the Japanese Grand Prix, Y/N was seen sitting in the Minardi Hospitality. There they were playing with a little child, just a bit red faced than before. Max was pushing the vintage toy cars that Y/N had given them around. Niki stood beside them, judging those cars.

“Y/N, did you buy them in an antique shop?”

“Antique?” They were offended. “I only bought them a few years ago, I just knew I’d need them.”

“Define ‘a few years ago’. I know you and I count in very different ways.”

They seemed to ponder. “I remember buying them with Giles, back when he heard he was going to be a father. So uh.. Maybe thirty?”

“God Y/N…”

“Wait, that’s the wrong ones. Those i gave to Michael for Mick. These are others.”

Niki cursed again. “Y/N, please. Consider my blood pressure.”

“I think i remember. It’s only a few more years. It was Graham who had picked them out, you know. I don’t have taste in such things.”

He pinched the skin between his eyebrows, sighing loudly. “I really wish you would act reasonable once in your life.”

“I definitely did that once before at least.”

“Tell me then!”

“I’d rather not. The date might shock you.”

"Goddammit."

At that moment, two kinds of toy cars hit their leg. Little Max had encountered little Mick who was barely out and about. Both had combined their set of race cars, now pretending to play ‘Grand Prix’ with a route made out of tossed cable ties and napkins. Most likely, Max was actively playing cars and Mick was just pushing things around with a little toddler grin on his face. “Y/N, you’re in the way!” Little Max complained with an angry voice, letting his car repeatedly drive against their legs.

They looked up in surprise. “Sorry Max, I’m moving.”

Stepping to the side, Niki questioned again. “Y/N, why are you stuck to these kids?”

They sighed. “They’ll have it rough, in different ways.”

“Doesn't everybody?”

“Oh Niki, you just don’t know.”

“Well obviously, I can’t know if you don’t tell me.” Y/N tried to interject. “I know, I know. You can’t tell me. We’ve been through this spiel many times.

That day, Y/N had left for quite a while. They’d stayed at Jaguar when Niki was there, stayed with Red Bull for a moment. Then they disappeared from the scene, only returning in 2015. It was the first race of the season and there they stood, right before the Toro Rosso hospitality, requesting to go in. Some youngin checking passes looked at them in confusion. “Sorry, uhm… You can’t go in. That pass, it’s ancient, you know. Gotta update it.”

Y/N stared at their entrance pass in confusion. Bernie Ecclestone had given it to them right after his takeover. Full access to everything. “I can’t even scan it! And look at that paper. Where’d you even drag this old thing out from?”

Y/N was purely baffled, eyes trained on the young man ahead. Things really had changed. As they wanted to speak up, one of the older employees noticed them standing there. He was still there from the good old Minardi Days.

“Y/N, is that you?”

He cursed, approaching them. “Dang, people were right. You really don’t change.”

They chuckled while the youngin stared in confusion. 

“Go away, Peter. Maybe get this badge remade. Don’t worry about it, the FIA knows what’s going on. At least I  hope so?”

The youngin quickly rushed off. This whole thing was way too strange for him.

“So Y/N, what finally made you return? We’ve all turned old.” He said, patting his now well shaped stomach. 

“I heard Max is making his Grand Prix debut today. I came to greet him.”

The man chuckled. “Right. Him and little Mick were always your favourites. Come, I’ll lead you.”

The new pit had awed Y/N. So much technology, so many things with a different appearance becoming almost unrecognizable. Yet there in the back stood a person they were sure to always recognise. 

“Hello Max, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Max jumped up as he heard that voice. His face was full of surprise, eyes so wide. 

“Y-Y/N”

Said person smiled.

“It’s been ages! Where have you been?”

“Here and there, you know. Seeing more of the world.”

Max looked at them again, his eyes shaking. “It’s my F1 debut today, you know…”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“Really? For me?” he looked so hopeful, deep lyiing hurt glittering in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Then-”

Before finishing he rushed away, returning with a little beat up Box. “Look!”

He opened the Box, revealing a few now very beat up toy boxes and letters.

“Thank you for these, Y/N. They helped me stay true to my goal. Keeping my focus.”

His eyes were shaking now, watering. Y/N just spread their arms in response, cradling him like a child. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get here, one way or another. And now look at you? That young and in a league with all these old guys.”

Max sniffled, holding her tightly. “Mom told me not to go with unknown adults.”

“What, I’m definitely a trusted adult.”

Back at the beginning of 2018, Y/N had left the Red Bull Team to stay with Mercedes. Max had understood, knowing Y/N had their reasons to do things. Niki had cursed when he saw them again.

“I really look like your grandfather now.”

He sighed, sitting down again. “I’m old and tired, Y/N.”

They smiled sadly. “I’m aware.”

His face turned sad as well. “Your prophecies were so true again. I sometimes wish you’d use them in a different way. Little Max and Mick would both experience hardship.”

Y/N had their lips pulled into a thin line again. Niki looked at her with an angry expression. “I know you well enough, seeing you appear means something will happen here.”

He huffed. “This time I’m ahead of you. I know I’m not well. My body…It’s reached its limit, hasn’t it? I’ve defied fate so many times but everyone got their limit.”

Y/N patted the almost 70 year old man on the shoulder. Their smile turned more comforting. “Could you greet Wolfgang for me? Tell him that I still sing that little song he taught me?”

“Scheiße, what do you think? That i’m the social services? Do that yourself! I refuse. You can do that on the day fate picks you up.”

That was the last time they had spoken.

Niki passed away in 2019. That was the first and only time Max Verstappen had seen them the cry. The all so stoic Y/N had broken down, crying on his shoulder. Max, unsure of what to do, patted their back like you’d do to a dog. 

When 2021 came, Y/N was back to mad cheering. Max was Champion after all!

The party was mad. Everyone was crying, sniffling and drinking. Kelly had brought Penelope with her who was like a little sun in the restaurant. Max himself was shining just as much, lifting his trophy repeatedly and as much as he could lift the alcohol anyone was willing to pour him. 

When night came and Penelope was tired, Kelly had carried her outside, beckoning Y/N to follow her.

Her face looked serious as she looked at them. “What are you, Y/N?”

They tilted their head again. “What do you mean, Kelly?”

“I remember you, though others apparently don’t. Or they do and just accept you without a second thought. When dad took me to the races, I saw you there. You are the same as you were back them. Your hair’s different but that’s it.”

Y/N hummed. It was Wolfgang’s Melody.

Kelly frowned when no answer was coming. “Then at least tell me this, will you hurt any of us?”

“Hurt?” Y/N looked on, offended. “I’ve never hurt a fly.”

“Then…” Kelly continued. “Why are you here?”

Y/N pondered before fishing around their pockets. “I’m immortal. I am Fate. Make of that what you will.” They then produced a little toy car, just of the same kind as Max had gotten years ago. “Give this to P once she’s awake, will you?”

Kelly just nodded. Y/N left.

Max missed them dearly. After his win, nothing of Y/N could be seen or heard. He’d asked the old mechanics and they all said the same to him. “They’ll appear when they want to.”

That’s how Max grew older and older, never seeing them again. 

Slowly but surely the mysterious figure escaped from the back of his mind, not of importance to his successful life. 

Everything crashed down when his father passed away. Max started spiraling, his entire life was planned and decided by Jos. How exactly should he go on now? 

At the funeral, he saw them. Approaching with a delicate umbrella over their head, dressed in vintage funeral gear.

Max stared in shock, never expecting to see them again. 

Y/N stared at the fresh grave, placing down a little wreath of flowers. “Jos, I really wish I could punch you. But alas, I can’t. Fate caught you as well.”

Max hesitated, staring at them. Instead of speaking, Y/N just engulfed him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Max. I can’t interfere with your life much more. I wish I could but this is beyond me.”

From there, he once again didn’t see them again. Years passed, Seasons changed. His hair grew gray, his skin got wrinkly and his body heavy.

With a nice summer day rolling around he laid in his bed, his grandchildren had just left the room, window open and curtain fluttering. Max stared at the shaking curtain, once again getting surprised by a voice. “Hello Max.”

He slowly turned to the side, spotting Y/N sitting on the chair that had just been sat on by Penelope. They were dressed like he remembered during his childhood, their face sad.

“Hello, Y/N.” His voice was silent, weak. 

“Has my time come?”

A sniffle rang out as Y/N leaned forward to touch his hand.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I see.”

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. “Can you tell me now, what you are? I’m about to die anyway so…”

Y/N chuckled. “Always the smart boy, you were.”

They got up, their appearance changing to something ancestral. “I’m immortal. You could also call me Fate.”

“Fate…” Max rolled the words around on his tongue. “So will I see you in the afterlife?”

Y/N lowered their eyelashes. “If Destiny decides to release me from my duties, possibly. I cannot see my own path. Will you greet Niki for me?”

Max nodded again, folding his hands.

“I will. It was great to see you again.”

Akin to a sigh, Y/N saw his soul depart. With a tear running down their face they settled back onto the chair. 

“I knew you’d be great. I just knew…”

And you're a cherry blossom

You're about to bloom

You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon

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

Find more at my Masterlist!

[blerb-f1]

Chat gpt?

No.

[blerb-f1]

What’s going on with the random capitalisation of words in the middle of sentences in your fics? 

I'm German. We do that. Capitalisation of nouns.

I try to not do it but i always forget about it.

It's not ChatGPT - who ever uses AI to "write" FanFic is disgusting.

[blerb-f1]

"Documents" - Max Verstappen x NB!Reader

Max finds himself working on Documents for someone.

For more FanFiction, find my Masterlist here

A loud Yawn escaped from Max Verstappens Throat as he pushed open the doors to the Red Bull Hospitality. He was supposed to meet his race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase, Short GP to talk about some Ideas the Team had regarding the Car’s Performance.

Apparently his frequent complaints had finally gotten on everyones nerves, motivating them to finally get working. Simply Lovely.

As his Eyes passed over the long dining room, he spotted GP carrying mugs. Three specifically. ‘Why Three?’, Max wondered but not too long, as the question answered itself immediately afterwards.

The Table GP was carrying the mugs too, also seated a third person. Their head was hung low over the table, cheeks touching a stack of big folders. He approached the Table with another yawn escaping his throat.

“Good Morning Max”, GP called out cheerfully. Way too cheerfully for such an early morning. (It was 11AM). He placed the Mug on a little paper towel to prevent marks forming on the table while trying to navigate around the third person. Max just gave them a confused look before blowing at the coffee to cool down.

As if reading his mind, GP spoke:” Ah, I totally forgot to inform you, Max. That’s Y/N, our Intern. They’ll be here for a few races.” He wanted to continue speaking but a short check of his watch alarmed him. “Sorry Max, I got a meeting! Please entertain Y/N for a bit!”. If this were an Anime, a big gust of wind would be left behind, with the speed he fled in.

Y/N flipped their head to the other side, bloodshot eyes staring in his. A quiet voice escaped:” Hi Max. As GP said, I’m Y/N.”

He gave their mug a push, shoving it close to their nose. “What got you so tired, Y/N?”

“Coffee!”, they exclaimed like a Zombie, quickly drowning some of the steaming, way too hot, liquid. After trying to cool off their burned tongue for a moment, they continued speaking.

“My internship stuff, the usual. I didn’t do my reports of the last few weeks so I spent the night doing them, Ugh…”

The driver just looked them up and down while mustering the stacked folders. “Aren’t interns  younger, normally?”

Y/N sighed. “Nope, this is not a school internship. I go to university, getting my Bacherlor’s in Sport Science and Management. Just didn’t expect to get this spot so I kept lazing around. Suddenly, Boom. E-Mail from Red Bull telling me I got accepted.”

His Team was doing Internships? That was pretty new to Max. He didn’t remember ever being told about that or seeing young, overly excited people scurry behind Team members. But apparently this one was fully endorsed since GP accompanied them. Was accompanying them. Weird.

“And now? URGH”, their groan was louder than before. “Why do all these tasks need me to write endless reports. Can’t even concentrate on my shiny Internship now…”

“If you had done your work earlier, you would have been able to concentrate on it…”

“Shush, as if anyone does their work early.”

“True.” Mental images of still to be paid pills, car maintenance and appointments fluttered through his mind. “No big difference here.”

“See?”, they asked, fully sitting up now. “Who even does that?”

Max chuckled. “Definitly not GP. He’s always late with everything. Like telling someone about the new Intern.”

Y/N led out a Gasp. “That’s why nobody expected me!”

They scurried to fling open their folder of work. “What got you so tired though? I don’t expect it to be paperwork.”

A sense of guilt overcame his mind.

Max loved Racing. A lot. The strategy, the mind games, the Developmental parts. But the marketing and whatnot? He’d be glad if they weren’t a thing but was aware they were a major part. He knew how to behave unlike some other driver when faced with Media Responsibilities. At least most of the time. He knew, Angry Max wasn’t nice-to-be-around Max.

That’s what got him into SimRacing. Spending all night in front of the screen, in a Call with his Mates. And just this evening, a large competition had held him up. Maybe 3 hours of sleep were trying their best to keep him standing. 

Y/N waited for him to answer, yet no response came. They laughed. “Don’t say it was Gaming. Really?”

Max stayed silent. 

“Media keeps saying that the simulators got your ass hooked, line and sinker. Didn’t expect that to this degree. Well, you do you.” They fumbled around their pencil case. “Because i gotta finish, really now.”

As they procured a little IKEA Pencil, Max just lost it. The sleep deprivation had lowered his limits and the visual of this teeny tiny pen had gotten him belly laughing and table with fist smacking. His tablemate just pouted at that, trying their hardest to work through the loud laughs. As he finally came to stop, little tears were streaming down his face. 

Wiping them away, an Offer came: “I could help you”

That’s how GP, tired of a large meeting with major Red Bull Staff, returned to the dining room to find his new intern and his driver seated at a round table holding little Ikea pencils. Mugs upon mugs were stacked in towers next to them, akin to the neatly stacked towers of paper and folders that they had their faces planted on. Both were sleeping deeply, lips curled into smiles. He wondered, how exactly should he report that to the Intern’s supervisor? Maybe just not at all. That sounded more tiring than lying through gritted teeth.

Instead, he tried to clean up around them and pretend nothing of the sort had happened. GP was well aware that Helmut Marko would not be approving of his talent working with those lower than him, so no need to unnecessarily awake a sleeping dragon. If he could call a guy that age a dragon at all…

While trying to carry away the stack of mugs, however, the porcelain let out a loud, high pitched noise as it collided with another. GP reacted with gentil shock, causing everything to come tumbling down.

Loud shattering noises sounded out, awakening the driver and the Intern from their slumber. Max slowly laid his eyes open, blinking once, blinking twice. He would not be hurried, who even would dare to do so, knowing his temper? Taking the time of his life, he yawned loudly. Both arms stretched high, his legs low, just akin to a cat as he finally awoke, blinking at GP. The intern meanwhile, did not awake that softly. With the loud noise, they immediately jumped into the air like a scared crow. This speedy move caused the sorted papers to fly in the air, fluttering around in a manner that was sure to mix up everything as much as physically possible. As last ditch effort to even topple this, they managed to bang their knee against the table, yelping out in pain. They slowly fell to the ground, holding their brused knee in an ocean of broken mugs, mixed papers and coffee stains.

Max didn't say anything, there clearly was no need to do so. Instead, he also got on the ground, slowly helping to collect the flung about pages to sort into neat little stacks while the intern was wiggling about like a worm. Their wide sleeved shirt looked like fluffy antenna's as they managed to now smash their head against the table, holding it in pain. Max pushed the table aside, grabbing the Intern by their arm and helping them up. Gently, he placed them on their previously occupied chair, crossing his arms.

Gianpiero Lambiase stood aside, his chin just dipping lower and lower. What had he done?

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That evening, Max Verstappen found himself seated in his hotel room, staring at the computer he'd brought with him. The monitor was flickering in it's usual blue light, slightly off colours that had him feel more at home. Yet, he didn't feel the urge to start up a game. To play another round of Asetto Corsa with his mates or to join a competition in iRacing. This confused him. His normal routine was broken, occupied by thoughts of that Intern. Their voice as they screamed out in pain, their scrunched up face while wiggling about. He sadly didn't have the time to look after them as GP, obviously too late once again, informed him that the FIA wanted to brief the driver's on something. As one would expect, the meeting was not very fruitful. It was a stark reminder by the FIA to not engage with sponsors or media accounts talking about things the FIA didn't like. The usual, therefore. Max decided to catch up on sleep during it, which is why he was so awake now. He dreamt off warnings about politics, ongoings military conflicts and people bumping their head against tables. 

…

People bumping their head against tables?

‘Maybe Y/N is awake still?’, he asked himself. He was pretty sure the Intern still had a lot of work to do, if not just sorting through the files they had filled out after the stacks fell from the table. Propably also had to read them over, to check if everything was fine. Maybe also to make sure they knew what was written, if asked about it. At least, that's what Max was told Internships were like, not that he'd have Experience with them. His future was been designated before his birth, nothing to choose on his own. Well, maybe the colour of his first racing helmet?

He reclined on the armchair, drinking some of the overpriced Hotel water.

Did Y/N have to worry about the Water's Price? Most likely, he'd heard GP complain about it. They were sure to earn much less than him. But they could pick their own lane, he realised. He absolutely loved racing to his bones but sometimes he wondered. Would Life have different directions for him? He wasn't sure if that was something he should be thinking off, at all. Racing was his life now, nothing would change that. Afterall, not everyone even had the luck to get into racing since the sport is so expensive.

He sighed again, looking through the contacts on his phone. While he was sure not to have Y/Ns Number, GP definitely must have it.

Max dialed.

GP answered, sounding very tired. He could picture the tired, red eyes staring at the phone.

“Max, it's 2AM, what do you need?”

“Y/Ns phone number, please.”

GP sighed before rattling it off. As he read out the last digit, Max could hear his blanket rustle. He was already tucked in, not even saying goodbye as the call ended.

‘Man’s pretty tired’ Max thought to himself as he typed Y/N’s number into his phone.

It rang. Once. Twice. It didn't get to the third time as a wary voice rang through the speaker.

“Who's there?”, they sounded a little drowsy and careful.

“Hi, it's me, Max Verstappen. Sorry to call you this late… Or early?”

A fragmented chuckle rang through.

“Good Evening Max, I'm still working.”

As he thought.

“The document's?”

“Pretty much. I was about to head to the Convenience Store to get some food, you want to join me?”

“Sure.” He felt a bit Hungry. What even was the last time he ate? 

Shortly after, he found himself standing in front of a Convenienve Store, fiddling with his room keys. He forgot his phone in the hotel room, so that left him with no clue of when Y/N was sure to approach.

Their arrival announced itself, however. Y/N walked in the distance, the hood of their sweater pulled onto their head. They spoke, sounding very agitated. 

Max stared at the person next to them, quite startled as he heard them scream something. The person, a man about his height, stretched their arm out as if to touch Y/N and grab their bag but did not succeed. Before he could even touch them, Y/N had somehow grabbed him and flung over his shoulder. He landed face first on the ground, Y/N pressing their knee into his back.

“Don't you dare try something like that again!”, they called out. Their line of sight swept over to Max, spotting him. “Could you call the police?”

He was startled again. “Sorry forgot my phone.”

Quickly fishing around in their pocket, Y/N produced their phone and flung it to Max, Hands holding the man’s shoulder down.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive, Siren's blaring. Max pulled the cap he quickly bought it the convenience store deeper, trying to hide his appearance from curious onlookers. Meanwhile Y/N had handed the guy over to the police. The police man was surprised as he arrived, not even questioning how they could do this. “He tried to grab my Butt on the Bus!”, they exclaimed. “Then attempted to pull off my hood. I told him, the camera's on the bus were recording and that I'd Inform the police. He followed me from there”

The Policeman nodded again, taking their identity information before looking at Max shortly, clearly recognising him. “I presume we should keep this silent?”

Max nodded, watching the car drive off with one less creep running free.

Y/N stood next to him, dusting their clothes off. Max offered them a tissue to clean their hands which they gladly took. 

“That was impressive.”, he stated. “I've never seen a guy go flying like that.”

Y/N grinned. “Thanks, I do a lot of combat sports. Never thought I'd be able to use them in public though…”

“Good you trained then”. Max chuckled. “Remind me to not anger you again. I don't want to get punched.”

Y/N shook their head. “I don't unnecessarily touch people. You don't have to be scared. Not stopping you if you want to be, though!”

They silently entered the convenience store, browsing. Max had picked some instant noodles which he prepared with the provided hot water, Y/N had gotten some sandwiches and snacks. Something green? Papery looking. 

“That's Seaweed”, Y/N mouthed before hungrily biting down.

He not-do-silently slurped the instant noodles, warmth hitting his stomach. He felt content, like a cat. He wanted to stretch himself and lay on the soft carpet that you'd find before a fireplace. The perfect life.

As Y/N finished stuffing themselves with food, they also stretched out. With their foot hitting the table, they let out a losu yelp.

Max looked downy seeing them hold their foot.

“I sprained my foot yesterday in my room.” They exclaimed, face contorned as they remembered the stinging pain.

“You keep getting hurt or hurting yourself.”, he realised. 

They let out a sad sounding laugh. “Kinda, yeah..”

“You should stop that. Have you tried not hurting yourself?”

Now they were pouting. “Thanks, Doctor. That's real helpful advice here. Anything else?”

Max pondered that. “Maybe drink some water if you're feeling thirsty?”

Y/N reclined on their chair. “WOW, Live-changing. Thank you so much!”

As they got up to chuck the food wrappers in the trash, Max blurted out his thoughts: “I brought my computer with me. Interested to play a round of Asetto Corso?”

“Is that how you invite people to your Room? You should work on your pick-up lines then.”

He scowled. “No I-”

‘He’s quite awkward’, Y/N thought.

“I get what you're trying to say. Gotta finish my work though, Sorry Max. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Max was quite breathless now. “..Yeah. Till Tomorrow!”

As Y/N left, they turned around a last time. “Nice hat you got there! Suits you, Mate!”

He quickly fumbled the hat off, staring at what the hell he'd bought. It said “I'm a saucy boy!”

What the hell did that even mean?

[blerb-f1]

God please take Checo’s, Liam’s and Yuki’s pain triple it and give it back to Daniel Ricciardo fans

They deserve it, they deserve worse actually

[blerb-f1]

"Another World"

Sebastian Vettel x Race Engineer!Reader FINALE

Sebastian and Y/N had a long and glorious career up till now, with them arriving at Mercedes.

You can find all the other parts on my Masterlist! Here's part One

BABUMP

BABUMP

Sebastian Vettel's heart was beating loudly. It’s beat was akin to a marching drum.

BABUMP

BABUMP

He lifted his hands up, placing them tightly over his heart. Feeling the beat, feeling it keep his body going like it had for so many times before. The sun was hidden away, thick rain clouds covering the sky, just like it had done for his first win in Formula One. Monza 2008, the day he got Toro Rosso's first win and that in their home country! The first win for the Red Bull Family.

He could still vividly remember the scream of his Race engineer in his ears. Y/N L/N and him had been conjoined at the hip for so many years, yet that first win had never left his brain. Whatever he was working on, trying to remember or acknowledge. That first win always had space reserved for it. Winning Toro Rosso’s first Race, Winning Red Bulls first race. Becoming Red Bulls first Formula 1 champion and obtaining four total championships with them. They were like Family - but so was Ferrari. A very dysfunctional one yet Kimi Räikkönen and once again, Y/N L/N worked to help him feel at home. He won races with the team, experienced true grief over losing the championship battle. Back then, he could have become a Seven Time World Champion. Like Lewis Hamilton.

Like Michael Schumacher.

His Icon.

His Hero.

His coworker.

His grid father figure.

But he just couldn't clutch it out. Ferrari beat him to pieces. Ripped him to the tiniest shreds possible, his broken parts left in the dust but collected by Lawrence Stroll, to help him strengthen the team around his son. 

Sebastian was happy again. Aston Martin were surely not winning anything - but they helped him feel at home in a way he couldn't at Ferrari, despite his own lofty aspirations. Even Y/N had called him a Lunatic for that move . Yet, they came along again. Y/N liked working at Aston Martin, it reminded them of their junior career back with Red Bull. Nothing was overly stipulated.

But he grew tired. Tired of the schedule, of the travel, of the world. He just wanted one thing: Home. Home was great, retirement was lovely. Y/N however, felt visibly lost. Sebastian saw it. They shined under the Glamour, the journey and the travel. Y/N always was the free spirit of the duo, the one not held by any chains. They were the ones telling his parents to “fuck off” and stop pestering him.

One day, Sebastian was busy gardening. He was planting flowers for his beehives, happily digging in the dirt. The seeds were so little, so normal but sure to sprout into something pretty and outstanding only to wither again in the winter. One could say they were akin to his Career.

Y/N meanwhile, was more like the male worker drones. They worked hard on their goals, freely buzzing about. But once their work was done, they quickly tired and spoiled away. 

He saw how Y/N looked when F1 ran on TV. Those eyes staring in the far distance, reminiscing of airports and harbors. Of Trains and cars. Of soaring off to only god knows where.

That was the day his phone rang with Toto Wolff on the line.

‘Enough diving through Memories’ Sebastian whispered, barely audible. He focused his thoughts, breathing in. ‘Square Breathing’ was a new concept introduced to him at Mercedes. Taking a look at the rearview mirror, he noticed that not a lot had changed since his return in 2025. The grid was almost the same, all of them younger than him. With a shinier future and better training than whatever was modern during his time.

“You good in there Seb? Get your gloves on, race is gonna start soon”

Another old hare, Y/N spoke through the radio. The race engineers present were all younger than Y/N, less experiencing and succumbing to their collected power. He followed their order, getting the gloves on. They fit just as well as they did back then.

He saw the lights go off, softly copying the late Murray Walker. “Three, Two, One and GO!”

Lifting his foot off the clutch, the car jumped ahead. Quickest start amongst all. He could not look back, forcefully diving around the first corner.

“The ferrari spun and collided”, Y/N appeared in his ear.

“Norris had a misstart, Collision with Perez”

‘Good’, he thought to himself. Less opposition. Corner after Corner passed by him as he kept his lead secured - he wasn’t a Six Time World Champion without reason by now.

This last season was tight, no clear winner visible. The last race would be the deciding factor who would win this triple threat match between Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri and himself. 

The two cars were constantly approaching, their noses getting dangerously close. Y/N was a constant buzzing factor, with timings and data. All to hopefully secure this win.

This was like the racing games they used to play on that small Sony TV. It was the tiniest of little Box TVs, a gift from Sébastian Buemi for Sebastian Vettels Birthday. It had been his old one and he knew the dynamic duo had needed just it. Even there, Races were tight. Y/N taking the stats, Data and Sebastian doing the hard racing. By the time online lobbies rolled around, their username was treated with fear as people were scared of the person behind it - not knowing it was a well oiled team. Lewis Hamilton had once joined to play a round against Sebastian, thinking himself to be the not-so-secret champion but he got curb stomped faster than a Formula 1 fan complaining about someone else's favorite driver.

Then, the radio came on again.

Y/N spoke seriously:” Sebastian, data says it’s gonna rain soon. Pit after this lap. I repeat, Boxbox after this lap.”

Rain. Rain in his first win, Rain in his second win, Rain for his seventh championship?

His soggy gloves tightly clutched the steering wheel. Full concentration, he could not bin it now.

As the pit crew rushed out, Sebastian could catch a short glimpse of Y/N turning around. Their face was serious, but he knew it well. This was a game they’d played so often now, they were experienced Professionals. 

“Go Sebastian!”

The rain parted behind his car like Moses parting the red sea. Piastri and Verstappen could not keep up with the way he threw the car around in the sopping wet ground, they just couldn't. Y/N kept up their positive affirmations, continuously supporting him like they always did.

Then, screaming. Screaming outside his car, screaming in his car and on the radio.

He had won.

He had secured the necessary points.

He was a seven Time Formula 1 World Champion.

He had finally caught up to Michael Schumacher's shadow.

Parking the car into parc fermé, he lifted his steering wheel and stepped out. His helmet was placed on top - it was special to him in many ways. His usual german flag was painted on, Y/N’s national flag went the other direction. Placed at the back was a sticker of Sebastian, the crab, like on his first karting helmet. Fotos of him and Y/N holding each championship title up were placed as well as a photo of their duo getting squeezed by Michael in 2008.

It was his career, localized onto a single Helmet - not just his career. His and Y/N’s careers were made from the same large marble piece. 

He looked at the ocean of waiting fans. 

Tired Eyes. Angry Eyes. Tear stained eyes. All kinds of Eyes were present, watching at high alert. He wondered, were a lot of the people present even born when his career started? Probably not.

He stepped on the chassis, lifting his arms in the air. Before he could step off, he was tackled down by Y/N. Their hair was disheveled from the rain and the run here, but they had managed to appear on time. The force keeping him steady, keeping him going. 

“Sebastian, we did it!” they screamed in joy, jumping around like a crazed animal. They then came to a stop as the other drivers congratulated him, looking at him with serious, steel like eyes suddenly. “Decision still stands?” they asked.

Sebastian nodded. ”Yes.”

He was whisked off to the weighing, then the podium. As the German hymn sounded out, Sebastian weeped thick, hot tears. The fans were staring at him with hot eyes as well, as if demanding something.

He knew what to give them.

He lifted his hands in the air, dropping three fingers on his right hand.

S e v e n.

His grin youthful again, just like it had been so long ago.

The crowds went wild, screaming like an ocean of different voices with the same goal.

The post-race conferences had been reinstated to return the analytics to the sport and he felt delighted. As he settled on his place, he turned to one of the FIA employees. “Could I get a chair next to me?” he requested.

The official was confused but fetched it. Along with the return, Y/N strutted in and took place on it. The media was confused but did their usual questioning.

“Are you happy reaching the same level as Michael and Lewis?” asked one reporter.

“Yes. Very.” he said.

“Are you thinking of moving to a different team now?”

“No, never.”

The questions were just as normal as they always were. He lifted his hand. “I got a question.”

The FIA official turned on his microphone. They knew, with Vettel being the jokester he usually was, something fun was about to happen.

“Sebastian Vettel, Mercedes. Can’t you all take inspiration in Walther Koster and his questions? This is getting boring. Gentlemen, a short view back to the past.”

He could hear some audience members laughing, some groaning.

“Twenty Years ago, I had my first race in formula one but could not finish it. Nonetheless, I still hold the record for the fastest penalty in Formula 1. Fifteen years ago, I won my first Formula One championship.”

He took a break, drinking some water before looking around the room.

“Four years ago, I announced my retirement yet returned three years later. So much has changed in this sport.”

His lips curved upwards.

“Good changes and bad changes. So much talent coming and going. So many places on earth have I visited.”

Y/N tried their hardest to smile but their mouth was shaking as tears started dropping onto their dress shirt.

“Now has finally come the day for me to enter the greatest hall of fame, to become one  of the acolytes on the Formula One Sky of those greatest daredevils. Nothing I would have been able to do without Y/N L/N at my side, my trusty race engineer, friend and companion for all these years.”

Sebastian rubbed Y/N’s shoulders, tears threatening to spill on their own.

“Now finally has the day come. We both hereby announce our retirement from Formula One.”

Both of them got up, bowing forward like a theater group would do at the end of a play.

“Now that the curtain of our career has been closed, we hope you will find joy in all that we worked to better, to improve and to accomplish. Look after the future generations in our stead, like we got taken care of by Mark Webber and so many others at the Beginning. Thank you and Goodbye.”

The duo left the room shortly afterwards, getting in their car and just driving off.

Driving in silence until the sun had gone down, until they were in the Japanese nothingness.

They fell in another’s arms, weeping like they hadn’t done in so long.

They had achieved their combined goal.

Just like they had promised Michael so long ago.

Rain had properly kick-started his career and it had helped properly ended it. Rain, the liquid of life.

Now, nobody could question them ever again. Peace and freedom had united in the past, to give them the chances to fully experience a live most wouldn't have. Now they were on the same page again, craving the ordinary life that wasn't part of the Formula 1 Experience. They both would disappear from the stage, making room for new actors to shine. They did not want to be seen again.

There is no use in dying

When still I seem to be undone

There is no use in trying to find again

The love of someone

Where have I gone and come so far

Well, I've been headed nowhere

I have been walking quite a while along

Feeling lonesome

Don't you worry,

They won't find my body

I want you to know

I found peace in another world

Don't keep digging,

I want you to leave back

Away from the place

Where my ashes are buried

I still can hear you breathing

As if you'd never gone away

I still can feel your touch,

Your tenderness

As if you were still there

There is no sense in crying

Only liquid running from my eyes

And all the feelings I restrain

Are the remainders that survived

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

BLERBS THOUGHTS:

Phew. I feel good having finished this series though I WILL be publishing more one-shots in between, it's such a comfort setting. I promised fast return but I'm sorry, I guess I lied. Didn't your parental unit teach you to not trust people on the Internet?

If you'd like to be tagged on future, most likely delayed creations, notify me please.

Taglist:

Special Tag: @kvjjjjjj who motivated me to even finish this, by sitting on my conscience. Thank you, mate.

Also Special thanks to my friend ace who motivated me. Check their account out if you like wrestling/F1 edits

@itsjustkhaos

@appl3-0rchard

@barcelonaloverf1life

[blerb-f1]

"At the harbour" - Charles Leclerc x fem!german!reader PART 4/FINALE

Charles and Y/N visit the party but it's just Monaco.

Here's part one, if needed. You can find the other parts and fics on my masterlist!

Blinding lights, ocean waves and shining golden watches are the things making Monaco what it is. The curvy roads leading past apartments the average human will never be able to afford, coupled with cars in price ranges covering the downpayment for one of these places.

Monaco also is Social. Monaco thrives in interaction, in glamor and in gossip. The inhabitants of Monaco, the born ones and the ones less inclined to pay taxes, love to mingle. Gossip, Chatter and Business Deals are done over a flute of champagne, over a delicacy cooked by a specialized cook flown in from Japan - all just as background noise to the large numbers being written on crisp white paper, signed with fountain pens more expensive than an average designer dress.

With the Grimaldi family throning above Monaco, as their glittering leaders, Money is what builds Monaco. The framework keeps everything up.

Being a person not from money, is difficult. The true Monegasque will be able to spit the little hair on the trim of your trousers, the crack in your diamond earring and the hole in the mask covering your identity.

Y/N was 100% underprepared for this.

Charles Leclerc sat next to her, driving his beautiful Ferrari with the Monegasque flag painted on it’s bonnet. He still hadn't gotten his driver’s license back but he clearly chose to ignore this. “Y/N, I can’t have you drive me around here! "My image!" he whined. The way to the ball wasn’t long yet Y/N understood why people went there by car. Walking around normal streets in evening gowns is quite unfashionable, no? 

Once the car came to a stop, a Clerc quickly took the keys and rushed off to park it, surely doing much better than what its owner would be capable of and also surely enjoying this special vehicle. Y/N was feeling nervous, her stomach knotting into a tight ball as Charles already got out, opening the door for her to aid her. The fabric of her dress was incredibly lightweight, making moving around quite easy. The black glittery material was reflecting the lamps and shimmering, illuminating the jewelry along with it.

‘It’s like armor’ she soon realized, looking at all the other people arriving. The women were draped in designer clothes, head to toe. Jewelry attached to them like an overly decorated christmas tree. 

Taking her arm into his, Charles led her inside the building. Large Chandeliers with hundreds of gemstones drooping down low, marmor tiles polished to perfection and waiters in crisp uniforms buzzing about. Her chin would have been hanging low, if the threat of committing a major faux-pas hadn’t been clouding her mind.

“It’s Breathtaking!”, she exclaimed, eyes wide open and still taking in the beautiful ballroom.

“Breathtaking?” Charles asked, one eyebrow quipped. “It’s the average party in Monaco.”

Y/N hissed. “Chuck, not everybody is used to this. I told you so!”

“Yeah-Yeah…” he mouthed, turning to the side before coming to a realization. “Wait a minute. You just called me Chuck? How the hell do you know that nickname?”

Y/N answered him with a defiant expression. “I looked you up, you know. Being famous has it’s downsides. I know way more about you than I ever could have wanted to know or not know.”

Charles was surprised. Y/N had consistently acted as if she didn’t care to know anything he wouldn't directly tell her.  Had Monaco changed her?

“Don’t get any wrong thoughts! I just wanted to know about you in case anyone asked me something. No way in hell I’m going to look that stupid.”

“You already look stupid.”

“Didn’t you just call me breathtaking an hour before?”

Charles turned to the side, realizing hitting him. “That uh…That was a spur of the moment.”

Y/N nodded. “Spur of the moment. Sureee. Just l-”

Before she could continue, Charles interjected. “How about we get some Horsd’œuvre, to not risk your stomach rumbling?”

“How about some Eclairs?”

Charles was too stunned to speak. “No. Not that one as well! God”

Instead, he signalised the waiter to come over. With him was a little plate of, in Y/N’s opinion, weird looking food and some drink. He placed them on a decorated standing table before disappearing again. Y/N stared at the treats with an unsure expression before taking one and popping it into her mouth.

It was not good.

She chewed quickly and swallowed, angrily pointing at the others. “These things probably cost as much as my rent! Why are they so disgusting?!”

Charles looked at them more closely. “Maybe we got a bad batch? But it’s highly unlikely anything bad would be able to pass through these doors. Loss of business and all.”

She huffed. “Well then they better start doing quality control because this is unbearable. Bah~”

As the two were talking, a rich looking business man in a suit approached. Speaking French, he aggressively patted Charles' shoulders while laughing loudly. Was this the so-called money laugh, Y/N had been hearing off before? 

While speaking, the man kept eying her with a suspicious look on his face. Charles kept lifting his hands, deflecting. He was scratching his cheek again, definitely unsure about something. Or trying to say a clear no without saying a clear no. Whatever it was, it looked like he needed help. 

She leaned forward, hooking her arm into his again while looking at the businessman. A shining grin was plastered on her face, just as fake as the one all the surrounding people had on. 

The man made an apologetic gesture, said something and quickly left looking embarrassed. Charles looked just as embarrassed  as he did. 

“What did he say?” Y/N asked curiously. 

Instead of responding, Charles looked around shyly. 

“Don’t pretend like you’re the countryside innocence. Tell me! Afterall, It looks like i rescued you, right?”

“You did…”, he responded quietly.

“Then. Tell. Me!”

“He said that  for young couples we should have gone somewhere else to flirt. And he recommended his Hotel to us.”

Y/N L/N was too stunned to speak.

“Yeah…”

“What ‘yeah’? I answered you. What now?”

“I uh- I didn’t expect that.” Y/N was very surprised.

Charles just looked at her blankly. “That’s what people here are like. Relationships are superficial, even relationships. Cheating’s quite common, you know? If both sides do it, it’s fair again…”

He sighed. “I hate that. A lot.”

Y/N looked around the hall which was starting to fill up. More and more people were gawking at him. Gawking at their Prince of Monaco.

“I know this invitation is important and all” she said. “But what if we just left?”

Now it was his turn to be surprised. “Didn’t you dream of visiting a big ball? Dancing and whatnot?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I visited a Ball, didn’t I? Dancing can be done just as easily in any other location. I’d rather just leave now.”

Charles pondered for a moment. “Yeah, me too.” He entwined his hand with Y/N’s, leading her outside. The clerk wanted to bring the car, but was just shushed away.

The sun had started going down now and was reflecting on the harbor. Painted all red, it looked totally different than what it did during the day. 

Y/N looked around the area, imagining a Formula One setup. Cheering fans, Teams working hard. She imagined the party afterwards. The whole place being so alive and real. With beating hearts and loudly screaming voices. 

Charles and her were slowly walking along, not caring how they were looking to others or if this was going to spawn scandals. Just the two of them.

“Charles, have you ever considered leaving this?” she asked him directly, gesturing around. “While you seem to love this lifestyle, it also appears to tire you.”

Charles turned towards her, downtrodden. “I have. Many times actually. I don't want to leave Maman behind. But some days… Some days I wonder what it would be like to live a normal life. One away from glitz and glamor.”

“Like mine?”

He frowned. “Well not THAT far away. But in that direction, yeah.”

Y/N was thinking hard, whether she could ask what she wanted to. She decided that she could.

“Would you like to stay in the countryside with me for a while? That’s not like moving away, right?”

“Well that’s pretty direct.” He chuckled. “If you wanna date me, just say so. I’d like that”

Y/N huffed again. “Stop joking, Idiot. This is me really proposing that idea to you. I like your mom. I’d like to visit her again but I seriously cannot afford Monaco. That would be one hand washing the other, right?”

“Also i can’t imagine personally having a friend-”

The realization hit him like a truck.

Y/N looked lovely, with the low light reflecting of her face. Normally he’d stay silent, keep these thoughts for himself. He decided to go for his heart for the first time in a long while.

 “Y/N”, Charles said softly. “You even like my mother and want me to stay with you, what else do we need to be in a Relationship? A cat?”

“Adopting a cat sounds lovely-”

It was his turn to get angry. “Now you’re the one not being serious!”

Charles took her hands in his, directly staring into her eyes. “Y/N”. He took a deep breath, sorting his thoughts. “I Like you a whole dang lot. Seriously. Please, don’t push away my thoughts. Not like that.”

Y/N was stunned. “Did I ignore you?”

“Yeah.”

She looked legitimately unhappy with that thought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Her words came out faster than his. “I- I’m not good with serious emotions. Really. It’s tough saying what you really want to, without sarcasm. So..”

‘How about my actions speak for my words?’, she asked herself.

A strong hand lunged forward, grabbing his tie and pulling his head to her height. The gloved hands took his head between them, placed right on his cheek as she leaned forward, capturing his lips in a short kiss. 

She continued her point from before. “I think I like that idea. Does this count as a first date then?”

Charles was speechless, his face red. Burying it into her shoulder, he mumbled:” If you want it to…” Y/N tightly embraced him back, both of them being more starved for affection that they’d actually think themselves to be. Or ever admit it.

Then, Y/N’s stomach rumbled loudly, causing Charles to laugh out loud. 

“See, that’s why I told you to eat something.”

“Not this weird stuff! I can’t do that again.”

Charles took her hand, before giving it a kiss. 

“Mademoiselle, what about a visit to the restaurant of the golden Seagull?”

Y/N laughed along. “I’d like that a lot, Sir Leclerc.”

##############

Blerb thoughts:

If you want to be added to the tag-list, hit me up!

Proud of myself for finishing this! Though i don't think i'll write any actual series again. One-Shots with more parts, yeah. But no direct series. I don't want to finish on a cliffhanger.

Taglist:

@barcelonaloverf1life

@itsjustkhaos

@randomnessis-mine-me

@appl3-0rchard whom i can't seem to tag

[blerb-f1]

"Pick up" - Charles Leclerc x fem!german!reader Part 3

Charles and Y/N are in Monaco as an invitation arrives.

This is part three! Here is part one if you'd like to read it before. Here's my masterlist if you want to see more of my writing.

Warning: french! I haven't used my french in a long while so uh PSA. It's just two sentences.

“Why exactly are you on my Yacht, Y/N?”

Charles Leclerc stood at the front of his beautiful, beloved and very expensive Yacht docked in the equally beautiful, beloved and very expensive Monaco Harbor.With his Hands placed on his hips and his white, crisp ironed Dress Shirt making him look like the average yacht owner, his expression was clouded however. Y/N L/N, his german savior could be seen lounging on deck, dressed in swimwear and large sunglasses obscuring her eyes. 

“Because.” she overly punctuated her sentences quite often. “ I get to lay in the sun and stare at Monaco! And it’s free!”

Charles stared at her and sighed. “Could you be any less cheap than this?”

“I would call myself frugal”

“Frugal? You sure about that?”

“Very much.”

She was not just frugal, she was the pure embodiment of cheapness. If a person could be more unwilling to spend a single cent, it would be the people doing extreme couponing on TV, busy with holding up lines at Walmart for three hours.

The driver just decided to accept the situation, as Y/N had already pushed him through quite a lot of these shocks over a short time. Anymore and he’d be found to have a stomach ulcer the size of a soccer ball.  As he leaned back, taking in the sun, a sense of bliss and joy felt his stomach. F1 pushed him around the planet, therefore returning home was always the best.

Then, Y/N leaned forward, offering a glass. A thin flute with colorful liquid and one of those little sparkly umbrellas attached. 

“No alcohol! No Beer before four o’clock.”

“This isn’t beer, Y/N. And that didn’t even rhyme…”

“It does in German!”

Charles took the glass, drinking the colorful juice mixture with relief. Sweet liquid on dry throat. Perfection.

Y/N turned towards him again, beginning to speak. “Say, Charlie, when’s your next race? Need me to drive you back to Italy? Or the airport?”

Grumph. She never missed the opportunity to hit the sore spot called ‘losing his physical license’. 

“No, nothing. I’ve got time now. Nothing on the schedule for the next week or so. By then i’ll have a license again.”

Before he could finish speaking however, a disturbance was approaching. Charles Mother Pascale was approaching the boat in fast steps, her expression determined. she sprinted up the little plank, coming to a stop right before her son. Pascale dug around her Handbag, pulling out a crisp envelope which she handed over. 

The envelope was quickly opened, revealing a pretty looking card. 

Charles read out aloud. 

“Dear Mr. Charles Leclerc, you are hereby invited to a traditional ball hosted at the Prince’s Palace of Monaco along with a companion of choice.”

“-the fuck?”

Y/N audibly was confused. “A Ball? In this day and age? And in the Palace? Are you that important Charles?”

Charles Leclerc was too stunned to speak.

“Y/N, I-”

He took a deep, deeeeep breath in. His lungs filled to the brim with fresh air, willing to steady his thoughts. 

“Y/N, I am Monaco's first driver in so and so many years. I have won races. Obviously I matter.”

“Hm. I really should look at sports more. I only notice Soccer because drunk soccer fans are the worst train passengers.” She then got up, snatching the invitation from his hand and reading it over. “A ball. I wonder, does it feel magical or annoying?”

“I’ve been to one or two before - unless you got someone nice accompanying you it’s just polite chatter and more alcohol than you should drink.”

“So like every social event that has ever occurred?”

“Very much.” He nodded.

Then, a thought occurred to him. The letter expressly stated ‘a companion of choice’. Last year he had taken his girlfriend but they had long broken up by now. What was the right choice now? Ask a friend? Maybe his mom?

At that moment, Y/N leaned over, putting her sunglasses on his nose. 

“Take these or you’ll go blind with that paper flashing you. The sun’s dangerous, you know!”

The solution was right before his nose. He could take Y/N.

“Say Y/N - did you ever want to go to a Ball?”

“What?”

########

The next day, after a long sleep in Pascale’s guest room, Y/N found herself seated at the parlor in one of Monaco’s biggest and most luxurious clothing salons. 

The attendant was visibly judging Y/N up and down before stepping forward to take her measurements. 

“Since the event is this evening, we have to pick one that fits you quite well. We can complete minor alterations until then, but nothing big is possible.”

Y/N simply nodded as Pascale looked around the salon. She looked quite emotional at this situation. 

“Pascale, is everything alright?”

Pascale sniffed. “I never thought I could go dress shopping with a girl!”

“Huh?” 

“I have three sons, not a single daughter. And their girlfriends never wanted to spend time with me. Lorenzo’s last one didn’t want to visit Monaco, Arthur’s is very shy and Charles? Oh Charles, he changes them so often! I can hardly remember their names! I’m so glad to have you around, finally.” 

Oh. This was bad. Y/N had totally forgotten that Pascale believed her to be Charles Girlfriend.

The older woman took a look around the store again, looking at the different fabrics and the clerc fuzz around. Finally, Y/N was allowed to state her thoughts.

“I uh. I guess something not too outstanding. I don’t know most of these people and am just here for Charles.”

“Anything else?”

“No clue what suits me. I couldn't go to my graduation ball so I’ve never worn an evening gown.”

Pascale pulled a grim face. “You never got dressed up like that? You definitely missed out.”

The attendant added. “Then, since you are unsure, how about Miss Leclerc and I pick some dresses to try?”

“I’d like that”

The attendant took that Chance to show Pascale where the right sized dresses were placed. Like pigs searching for truffles, the two were busy digging around for the right scrap of tailored fabric.

15 Minutes later, Y/N stood on top of a little walkway, dressed in a frumpy gown.

“It’s uh…”

Her brain worked hard.

"Nice."

Pascale stared at her with her eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure? You look like a frosted cupcake.”

Y/N audibly sighed. “Trying on dresses is so tiring. I never even considered that. All that work and none of them have looked good.”

“Try the next one honey, I just know that you will like one of them.”

“You sure?”

Charles' mother gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes.”

The German woman disappeared behind the curtain, fabric rustling. She finally returned, her walk more confident and her head lifted up high. The dress was beautiful yet not too busy. A jet black fabric with a light shimmer, the straps folder over her arms. The skirt trailed apart with a light slight on the side. 

Y/N grinned at her advisor, visibly content.

Pascale beamed back at her. “Is this it?”

“This is it?”

“Then let’s go to my salon to get you ready.”

########

Pascale lead Y/N to her salon, turning on the lights as she prepared one of the stylist's tables. She washed Y/N’s hair, before giving it a trim. Then, she picked out hair pins and tied it into a pretty looking, tight updo with loose pieces framing her face. She placed gem decorated pins into her hair to help it stand out more. 

As she finished, a bicycle rang outside. Another older Lady entered the store, approaching Pascale while speaking french. 

“This is my Friend, Marietta. She will do her make-up. Since she speaks french only, any of your wishes need to go through me.”

“I got nothing to say.” Y/N said. “I’m still in a daze. She definitely knows better than me”.

After being shown a photo of the dress, Marietta got working. Brushes en masse passed over her face, applying layer after layer into a beautiful artwork.

Just as she finished, the tailor also approached, bringing the altered dress and a pair of heels along. The three present helped Y/N into the gown and shoes, leading her back to the Leclerc’s place.

Pascale stopped and looked at Y/N, taking in her appearance. 

“Something is missing”

She seemed to go deep inside her mind, thinking hard. Then, she quickly rushed off. Running from room to room, she finally came back carrying quite a few things.

First of all, she handed Y/N a pair of black, long gloves.

“Gloves, you know, always make an outfit better. They prevent you from touching bad things and make you look more mysterious.”

After that, she slipped a bracelet of pearls around her right arm. Matching earrings graced her ears, the necklace decorating her neck.

Finally, she stared at Y/N again. Her eyes are getting watery.

“Y/N.. You look beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Definitely, look”

She spun the surprised woman around, facing her own reflection in the mirror.

Y/N stared at herself in awe. She didn’t know this woman. Her tired skin was gone, along with the darkened eye bags. Her hair looked so great like this, her body looking as if made for the dress covering it.

“Is this…me?”

“That’s why we like dressing up, you know.” Pascale sniffed. “You realize how pretty you truly are.”

Having worked as a train attendant for so long, with ungrateful and rude people had made Y/N less willing to care for her appearance. She hadn’t dressed up or tried in such a long time, this truly was a special moment for her.

Then, the door opened. “Maman, je suis retourné! Est-ce tu finis de choisir une robe pour Y/N?”

Pascale called back. “Oui Charlie. Allez, Allez! Viens ici, regarde la!”

Charles opened the door,  carrying a bag with something. He looked good, all dressed up. Yet, as he caught her appearance he dropped his bag. 

“Y/N?” he asked in surprise.

Y/N gave him a spin. “Do I look that bad?”

Charles Leclerc was too stunned to speak. Again.

“You don’t look bad.” He shook his head. Seeing his moms angry expression, he quickly added. “You look breathtaking.”

Y/N stretched her hand towards his. “Then, shall we get going? I’m glad you picked me up. I would have been scared if you had me go somewhere on my own”

####################

Taglist:

Next part is the last one!

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

Translations:

"Maman, I'm back! Did you finish picking a dress for Y/N?"

"Yes i did. Hurry up, come look!"

############

@itsjustkhaos

@appl3-0rchard

@barcelonaloverf1life

@randomnessis-mine-me

[blerb-f1]

Michael Schumacher, Michèle Mouton, and Sebastian Vettel during the 2010 Race of Champions.

[blerb-f1]

[blerb-f1]

"and Found" - Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader # part two!

this is a part two! Part one is here!

Check out my masterlist!

-xoxo, blerb

“So anyway Charles, about the passport issue”

“Yes”

“We contacted the government and it's going to get here soon. One Issue remains until then. We can't let you out on the streets till we have it. No documents, no license, no drive”

“You are kidding me.” Charles whined, crossing his arms and smacking them onto the table.

“Even Italy has laws. Even for you. I'm sorry, Andrea will drive you where you need to go. Otherwise I might recommend trying cycling? Valtteri seems very happy since he started actively cycling.”

“Like hell I'll get on a bike in Italy - they're going to run me over before I leave this place!”

Had it really come to this? Did Charles Leclerc, Formula One race winner and Ferrari driver been demoted to bicycle?

With his head hanging low, the demotivated driver stepped outside. In his right hand was the key to his new bicycle, attached to a children’s keychain. Just lovely. The two wheeled vehicle was already waiting outside, a garnet red with Ferrari slogan on top. Weren’t these the free company handouts a few years ago? Or something handed out in a company wide lottery? Charles could remember Sebastian behind happy at the idea of others biking. It truly coudn’t get more embarrassing, could it? ‘When even was the last time i rode a bike?’, he wondered. Swinging his legs over it and giving it a push to get going provided him a wobbly pace. Taking circles around the parking lot helped becoming steady again, yet no joy could be discovered anywhere. Charles stopped the bike, leaning back and eyes passing over the building. In the distance, a person was approaching. As they got closer, he noticed it was Y/N. She was dressed in a pretty white dress, neckline dipping lower to a golden belt. She must have bought it in Italy, he just coudn’t imagine your average stern german lady wearing something similar. 

As she came to a stop in front of him, her expression showed a rude grin.

“Seems you’re without a drive, Driver”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve already made all the jokes.”

She nodded, as if fully aware of the emotions he was feeling.

“You know, Ferrari were so kind to give me these-”, she said, lifting her hand. Jingling in the air was a set of black car keys with the familiar prancing horse on top. “If you want, I could drive you somewhere. Would be less embarrassing than cycling”

In a really annoying fashion, she pulled the word ‘could’ as long as a chewing gum. Just sheer annoyance.

Charles thought about it. He truly did not want to be victimized by her driving again, but going further distances in climate control and not facing the Italian sun sounded stunning about now. With it soon being afternoon, the heat started becoming unbearable.

“Alright, I give in. What do you get in return though?”

“I want to visit Monaco.”

“Monaco? That’s 5 hours by car. Taking a plane would be faster.”

She just grinned again. “I probably won’t get the chance to drive a Ferrari again, right? So I want to make use of it. And with you by my side-” she poked her pointer finger against his chest. “I bet I will get stuff for free! And since you live there, you know the good spots to go to.”

“You are a cheapass, you know”

“I’m a train attendant, not a cheapass. Monaco is expensive.”

Charles pushed the bike against a wall, leaning it to the side. No one would steal a bike here, right? He wondered, walking alongside her.

“Aren’t you worried about being seen with me? I’m a celebrity, i hope you keep that in mind”

She just shook her head. “Nah, I’m not worried in any way, shape or form. Life would be exciting if gossip would be busy with me.”

“Exiting? It’s getting clear to me that you have no clue of what it’s like!" Charles got angry at her statement. She really knew nothing.

“Obviously, I don’t. But you seem like a nice dude. If people make rumors about us, I want to see them try. There’s nothing in my life they could ruin.”

Charles came to a stop. “Nothing in your life? What do you mean?”

Y/N just looked down. “That house is my parents. Mine now, I guess. Both died of old age a few years ago, had me quite late. My job is nothing I've specifically dreamed of ever. I just took it because I could work alongside my parental-care duties. So currently, I wouldn't mind having stupid fun. I mean, they might write some mean stuff about me. But they can’t get worse than 40 year old, hair dyed red, coworkers”

Shit, maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Pretty personal question, was she hurt?

“Don’t worry too much Charles. I’m fine. You don’t seem to be like that , though.”

She could see it on him, huh? “Yeah, I'm not. My dad…he passed away before he could see me win Monaco. I desperately wanted him too. Same as my best friend and god father…And now? I won the Monaco GP but instead of visiting them, i ended up somewhere in Germany.”

“I bet they’re happy for you, up in whatever flavor of heaven you believe in. If they’re family, they’re definitely watching. We could visit your living relatives though if that would make you feel better.”

He nodded. Great idea. “We could visit my mom and little Brother. They still live in our apartment in Monaco. My big bro already moved out a while ago, i did as well. I think that would feel good.”

“Well what are you waiting for then? Get going.”

“Can i drive?”

“No.”

He made a ‘hmpf’ sound and fake-pouted. “I bet I’d drive better than you!”

Shortly afterwards, they both found themselves seated in the expensive Vehicle. Y/N was busy adjusting the settings to her liking while Charles was fumbling around with the Spotify playlist. Just as he was leaning forward to input something, the driver pressed down the gas pedal. Hard. 

Charles was almost launched forward but the seat belt pulled him back with just his phone flying around . “God, you scared me!” he exclaimed, holding his hands on his beating heart.

Y/N just grinned, showing him her teeth.”I like scaring you, it’s fun”.

Charles just gave her an exasperated expression. “Why do you particularly enjoy scaring me so much?”

“You react so loudly, that’s fun. My colleagues are all old, tired people. Most you’d get is an eyebrow lift.”

That way, the drive continued. Charles and Y/N were vibing to the white girl music he had picked (Sorry Sebastian, no Senorita) while Y/N put in some weird German music. Charles was quite confused when he heard what sounded like children's music.

“What the fuck are we listening to right now?” he asked her.

She was vibing meanwhile, joke dancing while speeding. “True hit song! It slams when you’re drunk! "That's Bodo mit dem Bagger!”

“I’m not drunk Y/N so why are we listening to drunk people's music? Also, I don't speak German. Could you translate?”

“Drunk people's music is always good! You rich folk don’t know what simple pleasures are.” She huffed. “The title is just…Uh..Give me a second.”

Charles leaned his arm on the window, staring outside. “Considering you work with travelers i’d think your English would be better.”

“That’s rude, sir. I’m quite good if compared by my colleagues”

“Seb was faster.”

Y/N just sighed. “Isn’t this also your second language? Don’t be an ass. Also, Vettel had to speak English more often than I do, you knucklehead. I don’t get English speaking passengers that often.”

After a short moment of thinking, she came to her answer. “The title is Bodo with the Excavator. It’s about a guy excavating stuff but excavating is also a pun for hitting on girls. So that’s it. You ruined the fun now that I had to explain it.”

After that discourse, the car became devoid of conversation until Charles and Y/N reached Monaco. While trying to drive safely, Y/N was busy staring outside. Taking in all the sights she could from her driver’s position. Charles meanwhile directed her to the attached parking space, the guard at the front being confused at the sight yet not asking about it. ‘Professionals’, Y/N thought to herself.

As they stood in front of his mom’s apartment, Charles finally realized what he had done. He had invited a girl home. Worse thing being, Y/N was the first girl he ever invited home…Pascale would have a heart attack, wouldn’t she? He quickly took her to the side.

“Y/N” he stated with a soft, quiet voice. “I uh…”

“What, uh? Come on, tell me.”

“You’re the first girl I'm bringing home.”

She was surprised. Definitely didn’t expect that one. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Oh god, how do we tell that to your mom?”

“No use, I know her too well. Whatever we tell her won’t matter.”

“I could just wait outside if you want me to? Not trying to make your life harder here.”

“Nonono!” He exclaimed, widening his eyes.

“That wouldn't be in the spirit of hospitality of me.”

“Well then..”

She turned around, pressing the doorbell.

Charles quickly turned around. “No! AHH; I wasn't prepared!”

“Why are you so nervous, if at all i should be the one t-”

Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened. Pascale looked curious, her face turning joyfull upon seeing her son. She quickly brought him into a tight hug, pressing her chin against his shoulder.

“I-I was so scared when we didn’t hear from you!”

“Mom-”

“and I thought I had lost you! You can’t do that to me!”

“Mom-” his voice sounded more desperate now.

“But I’m so glad to see you healthy Charlie!”

She separated from him, looking her son up and down before her view skipped over to the companion at his side. 

“Who’s this lovely young Lady, if i might ask?”

Charles wanted to fully rectify but he could already see the thoughts in her brain running further ahead than they might ever be able to catch up with. Shit.

“I’m Y/N L/N”, she stated, stretching out her hand to Pascale. “I found Charles dead asleep on my train and later helped him home. Nice to meet you!”

Pascale looked Y/N now up and down. With this serious mom scanner, Charles knew her next face would tell him everything he needed to know about her. His mother was thinking, her brain computer on all cylinders before clicking the print button: smiling face,serious.png. She liked Y/N. Oh no.

“I’m so happy that you found him, Miss. L/N -  what would i have done without you!”

Pascale grabbed Charles by his ear, pulling him close. “Once he got into Formula 1 Monaco became way too small to contain him. Sometimes I wonder when he’ll run off to never be seen again.”

“Just Y/N is enough, I’m Miss L/N at work.” Her whole body shook as if remembering it. “Now i’m happy to see Monaco - seeing you both reunited i find this to be the perfect opportunity to leave so-”

“Nonsense! I can’t let you leave so soon. Seeing Charles' expression I bet you drove. Before going anywhere, you better wait a moment to allow him to he let off steam. Afterwards you two can go out and look at the city!”

‘You two? Oh no, she really thinks we’re a couple, doesn’t she?’ Charles realised. 

His mother was quick to push the two inside, heading off to brew coffee. Shortly after, three pretty mugs and delicacies were placed in front of the two of them. Y/N slowly leaned back, happily enjoying the hot liquid while Pascale kept questioning holes into Charles. She sneakily stole his piece of cake while he kept wildly throwing his arms around in gestures. Is that what interacting with Italians did to a man?

Then, Pascale directed her attention to Y/N. “I’d love to get to know you better but I have to work the whole day and tomorrow as well. If you want to, you could visit my salon tomorrow and we could chat while I do your hair. I bet you want to take the opportunity and see the city today.”

She gave Y/N a hearty smile.

“Are you saying Y/N needs a haircut, Maman?” he asked, sounding jokingly offended.

“No, not at all! I just want to get to know her, Charlie..”

Cute. Pascale really was cute. 

“Also, if you want to, we could dye your hair. As long as that's fine with your work dress code - i bet you would look lovely with some colors!”

‘Such a cute woman. I wouldn't mind her being my mother in law… Wait, no- I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. No-uh.’

‘Maman seems to like her as well - haven’t seen her this happy in a while.. I’ve also been enjoying myself around her.. No, I can't catch feelings here. I gotta focus.’

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

Tags:

@itsjustkhaos

@appl3-0rchard

@barcelonaloverf1life

If you'd like to be tagged in future fics, hit me up!

[blerb-f1]

🌞 y'alls go help them!

GUYYYSSSS i need your help<333 This is a survey for my research project and i'd really appreciate any answers you'd like to bless me with. thank you for any help you can give 😙😙😙😙

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(ignore the tags lol i need as many people to answer as possible😭)

[blerb-f1]

"Lost" - Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Charles celebrates too hard and gets lost. More news at 6

Find more on my masterlist!

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

“Sir?”

“Sir!”

“Wah?”

Charles awoke as he felt his shoulder getting ruffled, eyes dry and hurting. His throat was dry.

“Sir, please get up. This train is finished cleaning, you have to leave”

‘Train?’, he wondered in confusion. Hadn't he just been celebrating his win in Monaco? He took a look at the person shaking him. She was a train attendant, pretty looking he might add. Her uniform was not flattering the least. A light blue t-shirt with a dark blue vest thrown over it. Her accent was german. He attempted to get out of his seat but stumbled, bad leg control.

She supported his shoulder. 

“Where am I?”

“Far off from any kind of civilisation you'd normally travel to, based on that watch on your arm” the attended reported. “The middle of nowhere, in Germany.”

Charles held his head. “I don't remember getting on this train at all.”

She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. “Well, you had all the necessary tickets for your journey. Must have gotten them from somewhere.”

Together they walked outside of the train. The train station was small, one white painted building. Only two tracks, lot's off trees.

“Have you got anywhere to go to?”

Charles looked at her, thinking. Fumbling around his pocket resulted in nothing, his phone and wallet were gone. Shit.

“Apparently not. Let's just get going. You can stay the night with me, I've got space.”

“Can't I just take this train back to where I'm from?” Charles asked her in desperation.

“Good Joke, truly. This train runs every two hours during the day. And then you'd have to take more trains, none of which usually run in the night as well. Also, I've had a long day of work. I'm really, really beat up.”

Charles sighed. ‘What did I just get myself into? The people saying to not mix uppers and downers were right…’

She led him to her Car, a little silver Hyundai. Throwing her backpack in and settling into the driver's seat, she sighed in relief. “Finally done.”

“Done?”

“I've got the weekend off. Your arrival kinda ruined it but we gotta take the things as they come. I'm Y/N L/N. You?”

“Charles Leclerc”

“That sounds French”

“Monegasque”

“What? I don't know that word”

“I'm from Monaco!”

She looked at him in surprise.  “Now you're pulling my leg. You got here from MONACO? You must have taken like 10+ trains!”

“Urgs, not so loud. My head hurts”

“God.” She groaned as she inserted the car key, starting the little engine. “Move your hand”

“Huh?”

“Either you move your hand or you loosen the handbrake. I can't get it with you spreading over there”

Charles quickly lifted his arms in the air. “Isn't it Electric?”

She just looked at him exasperated. “Do I look like I'm shitting money? I can't afford a car that new. Unless you'd wanna pay one Mr. Money Bag over there.”

“Oi, that's rude”

“You're from Monaco, don't y'all bath in money and champagne? Now, let's just get going.”

The car ride was silent with Charles looking out of the windows. This really was the countryside. Trees, fields, cows and horses. Lots of half-timbered houses.

After half an hour of journey, with them passing over roads he'd never even classify as those, considering the many holes and breaks they finally reached a large property. A large half timbered house with a similar looking barn and a long building houses garages presented itself to him. She parked the Hyundai in one of the Garages, the smaller one to be exact, and stepped outside.

Charles followed her as she unlocked the front door, revealing a house with small-ish rooms with low height walls painted weight. The most color each room spotted was oak- all the furniture and floor were oak. He had never been in a house like this before.

“Stair up, the left room is the bathroom. Soap's there, go shower. I'll put clean clothes and towels in front of the door for you.”

“Shower?” 

“Sorry …Charlie. You stink. Long journey and all”

“Ah, I'm so sorry! I'll go shower immediately!”

Charles stepped into the bathroom, throwing his clothes on the ground. The second they left his body he noticed the less than stellar stench of sweat, alcohol and weed stuck on them. The water hitting his skin felt heavenly, scrubbing off layers of grime and dirt he never thought could amass so quickly. The water was different, as well. It didn't smell of chlorine as much, more like iron instead. Nonetheless, only after the shower did he realize what a stinky guy he had become. The clothes laid in front of the door were oversized on him. Some red, used polo shirt and cargo pants with frayed edges awaited him. Downstairs in the Kitchen, Y/N had changed into casual wear, foot already served on the table. Charles settled into the chair, staring at the provided meal. “What, you’re not hungry?” she asked him, tauntingly. “I don’t know how to eat this” he had to state.

“Look”, she said. The table was covered in two plates, each having a solid kind of bun laid on it and a pot with sausages swimming around. She took her knife, cutting a slit into the Bun. “Take the Brötchen-”, she then grabbed a fork and fished out a sausage, putting it into the ‘Brötchen’, “then put the sausage in there. "That's it.”

“Nothing else?” Charles asked, pretty confused.

“Yeah, simple meal you know. "Nothing fancy.”

“Hm.”

They ate silently, with Charles being confused at how hard that Brötchen was. He slept in the living room that night. The house didn’t have blinds but there were no street lights to keep him awake. Instead pure silence, something he never encountered anywhere. It was almost blissful - until the sun woke him up at 6AM and the birds were singing really loudly. He heard a loud mechanical noise and a cupboard clinking, then Y/N appeared in the doorway, offering a mug. “Coffee.”

The cup of coffee was hot, very nice.

“We’ll go to the electronics store to get you a phone, so that you can get your stuff in order. I can’t get you onto a plane without documents.”

“Aight.”

“Are we there soon?”

“Sorry mate, nothing’s close by.”

Driving to the electronic store took over half an hour and as they finally arrived, no grand palace was awaiting him. It was a dinky old little store, the bottom floor housing washing machines, fridges and vacuums. The upstairs was mostly TVs and DVDs, the phones tucked into the corner. Charles approached the few iPhones they had there, playing around with them.

“Dude, pick something cheaper”

"Why?" I’d just buy something that lasts.”

Y/N looked at him in annoyance. “I don’t know when you’ll be able to pay me back. That stupid phone is like a third of my monthly income. I can’t afford that.”

“A third?”, he asked in shock.

“Yeah, train attendants don’t earn much. Tickets want to be cheap right? Also…” she added. “We gotta get you a limited plan. Since you don’t have an ID, I have to be the owner. We should get a monthly one so that i can cancel it later.”

He simply agreed, settling on one heck of a cheap phone.

“Finally.” he sighed, installing his social media apps and creating a new WhatsApp profile. Contact to the outside world could be established.

“I need to call my team.”

“Please do, i bet they’re worried sick”

Charles leaned against the door as Y/N settled inside, as he heard the familiar call beep. Then, a voice he hadn’t heard in a while returned from the speaker.

“Who’s there?”, asked his friend, Andrea Ferrari.

“It’s me, Charles!”

"Charles?!" Where the fuck have you been ? We were so worried about you!”

“So fun story, i apparently took multiple trains and am now somewhere randomly in Germany. And I lost my wallet along with my phone.”

“Somewhere in Germany and no identification… Can you rent a car?”

“No, since I obviously have no ID, right?”

"Ah, shit. How’d you get a phone?”

“A train attendant took me in and bought it, but she can’t really afford more than that.”

Andrea seemed to think for a moment. “What if we send her money and she drives you back?”

“That sounds like a moronic, stupid journey…”

Shortly afterwards, Y/N made large eyes as insane amounts of cash appeared on her bank account. She didn’t believe that Charles actually was rich, especially not that he was an F1 Driver. For Ferrari as well! The Michael Schumacher Ferrari! She was quick to convince however, as a paid vacation like that sounded like a nice idea. They headed to the car dealership which also rented cars.

“Hyundai, again?” Charles complained.

Y/N just stared at him. “I know a guy there, the only spot where they won’t scam you.”

She had picked a car that looked quite similar to hers, just a bit longer with more horsepower. “I don’t like driving big cars. Want some power for the Autobahn though.” Charles whined in Response:” Can’t I drive? Pretty please? I haven't driven a car in a while~”

“Do you currently have a physical license?”

“No”

“Then shut up. I'd lose my license if we were to get caught. My car takes me to work, no options without”

He wanted to pout in response but that had quickly become not an option. The drive was sheer madness. Y/N was running on hopes and energy drinks, pushing the little car to its limit. Charles was gripping every piece of interieur he physically could as she drove at max speed for every stretch she could. Google had estimated the journey to take 13 hours, she shaved off 2 of them. He made a note of never saying that women were the calmer drivers. Blasting loud techno music that turned into a monotonous drone combined with the engine screaming as German countryside flew past him, only interrupted by gas station breaks.

Sweet, sweet silence they proved to be. A heaven of calm, shoved tightly between what most likely was an out-of-body experience.

Then, silence, white doves and heavenly goodness stopped: the return of techno. Y/N throwing the Car around Italy’s shit roads, ignoring all laws of traffic ever created. One goal in Mind: Maranello.

With the crack of dawn and the first worker’s arriving to open the doors, they saw something they had never seen in their long career. A crazed car coming to a full stop, brakes glowing hot directly in front of them. Passenger side flung open and their golden treasure stepping out. Il Predestino had returned, he had risen from the dead. 

And was vomiting against a tree.

“Aren’t you F1 Drivers supposed to be tough or something?”

Charles tiredly leaned against said tree, face free of blood. “We’re tough but not tough like that. I can survive a long ass GP but not 11 hours of insanity”

The crazed driver laughed, her whole body shaking. She approached him, forcefully shaking his hand. “It was nice to get to know you, big boy. I want to go to sleep now, hit me up if you want to visit Germany again.” Y/N shoved a slip of paper between his tightly pressed fingers and walked off as an employee showed her the way. She was to stay somewhere close by as some NDAstuff needed to be handled now.

On the other side, more people were approaching. Charles' friends, the team and the media. Maybe Germany was actually a nice spot to vacation in. Without all the circus going on here. When was the winter break again?

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

I pinky promise that i WILL continue this since i wrote it for my friend acexf1 over on YouTube. It's more set-up than anything rn. My other stuff is also getting continuations now!

[blerb-f1]

also dying at the fact that liam said he literally never drinks and the one time he did his hangover ass gets turned into a meme

[blerb-f1]

„Pimientos asados“ – A roasted Spaniard

Fernando Alonso x NonBinary!Medic!Reader

I'm aware i already used this trope. I think i just like my drivers sweaty :D

Read more on my Masterlist.

-blerb

„Pimientos asados“ – A roasted Spaniard

„Stupid fucking Security Rules“, Y/N mouthed, buttoning their shirt up. The crisp blue and yellow fabric would soon be entirely sweat through, that was for sure. Their black linen trousers were the most airy thing allowed under safety rules, yet felt still too covering and heat retaining. They sighed once again, placing some bobby pins between their pursed lips. Coarse fingers grabbed each of them, in use of pinning their fringe up and out of the way. With the heat coming, sticky forehead hair would only be an issue. A load of hairspray that was sufficient to destroy the earths ozone layer, was the last step to get their hair out of the way. Seeing that the familiar team cap would rest on their head anyway, Y/N didn’t bother more in that regard.

They placed their badge around their neck, visibly reading “Renault Formula 1 Team Medic Y/N L/N”.

Knowing what was to come, Y/N were not jumping around in joy as they entered the car of another crew member, ready to head to the Track. Bahrain was hot, incredibly hot. Temperatures edging the 40°C Mark were announced before the race and definitely the truth currently. The team member sighed as well, emptying another water bottle.

With 2005 looking like a Championship Year for Renault, Y/N had to make sure their drivers would survive the race. Reaching the race track was however war in itself, with fans crowing outside. Y/N would tiredly wave their hands out of the window in hopes of shooing them away. “Shit”, proclaimed the car’s driver – Mike, the breakguy. Mike was tasked with all things breaks, he had to weigh them before and after races to measure their corrosion, to watch them during the race and tell the mechanics of breakage and measure their temperatures during the stops. He’d always tell Y/N that break discs were nicer than caring for Humans. Afterall, they didn’t rebut advice or act unnecessarily careless with their own bodies. He had taking a quick look in the rearview mirror, though just a second to late.

Some ‘fan’ had stolen the team cap of Y/N’s head, unveiling the bobby pins that were messily strung together. Y/N just scoffed, rolling the window back up before leaning back. “Stupid fuckers”, they cursed, patting down the now ruffled strands. ‘Hopefully the team has some laying around, otherwise Flavio’s gonna be mad again. He hates things that aren’t good appearance wise.’

Mike parked the car as close as could, shuffling around the boot to get out his backpack and Y/N’s workbag. Slinging it over the shoulder, he huffed loudly. “God, these fans are getting out of hand. We’ve had so much teamwear stolen by now – I wonder how other team’s are coping. I bet Ron Dennis is unhappy about them getting crumbly and muddy”.

As they approached the garage, an unhappy face already stood aside. Pat Symmonds, their Technical Director was talking angrily to a few of the mechanics. Apparently he had screwed up quite badly with something – not that it was of matter to Y/N. They fumbled around their bag to fish out a towel. Renault branded of course. Pouring water on the towel provided it as lovely cold recourse once placed on their own head, but also hid the hat-lessness from Flavio if he were to appear out of nowhere. A skill the otherwise loud Italian man knew better than one would expect him to.

Y/N ducked in the back of the garage searching through the shelves in hope of finding anything. A hat was important as team gear but also as sunshade in this demanded climate. The garage proved to be fruitless however, so Y/N made their way over to hospitality, still hidden under their fluffy frotté  head covering. The ladies behind the coffee counter were positively buzzing, their updos looking good despite the horrible weather. Flavio always had beautiful ladies work there and many mechanics would appear in hospitality, trying to fight for their numbers. Y/N on the other hand was a happy sight as they’d usually just ask for an Latte Macchiato and chatter about recent drama.

“Nice to see you Y/N!” the fronting one exclaimed.

“Nice to see you too, Monique!”, Y/N expressed before leaning onto the counter.

“Has Flavio passed by recently? I hope not.”

“If it has to do with your fancy new headdress, he hasn’t. Might want to ask Zanarini whether there’s still a cap ins storage. He just got one for Giancarlo. His got stolen as well apparently.”

The medic sighed before downing a cup of coffee given to them by Monique. “I’d better hurry, I’ve got to check Fisicella and Alonso over soon. Bye Monique!”

“Bye-Bye Y/N!” she waved cheerfully before giving her colleagues a snicker. Something bad must be going on they’d hear of later.

Trotting through hospitality with tired feet, Y/N soon spotted Enrico Zanarini standing to the side, his phone perched up. Being Fisicella’s Manager must have been a tiring job for sure. They approached the hard working man slowly, making sure he was not in a call or anything.

“Ah, Y/N. I presume you also got caught by the hat thieves, am I right in that assumption?” was his greeting. The medic just nodded. “I’m sorry to ruin your day now, but I got the last one out of storage. It seems someone snuck in overnight and emptied our warehouse here. I wonder what’s wrong with the people today.”

With their head hanging low, Y/N trotted back to the garage, knowing that Flavios scolding was inevitable by now. On the way the bumped into another person, blinking twice to notice they had run into Fernando.

“Good Morning Y/N, you’re late to the check-up.”

“I know, I know, Fernando. I’ve been on a treasure hunt the last hour. Some idiot stole my cap but we don’t even have a single one left.”

The driver lifted his eyebrows. “Not a single one?”

“None. The others all seem to have theirs so I’m the only one getting chewed out by Flavio.”

Fernando seemed to ponder for a while before settling onto Y/N’s office chair.

“Doctor, please proceed with your check-up.”

Y/N started their work, taking measurements and jolting down Fernandos health data.

“Please remember to drink a lot for this GP, I know the heat is horrible. It’ll be worse after the Race. I’m going to check up on you and get you both hydrated before the Press conference. Can’t have you fall on your face from heat exhaustion.”

“Us both? How are you so sure I’m landing on the Podium?”

“I just know, Fernando. Trust me. But something is telling me it’s not going to end well for Giancarlo…”

“You sure you aren’t Magic Alonso with these visions?”

“Maybe. Now zoom off. Fisi is waiting and I still gotta report to Flavio.”

Fernando stood up from his chair, eying the medic again. Finally, he lifted the cap from his head and placed it on theirs. “Look. Problem fixed, right?”

“Fernando, you’re our face! Wear it yourself!”

“I won’t” he chuckled while crossing his arms. “I can’t stand you looking so sad. Especially if I can fix it so easily, no?” He turned towards the door. “I’ll be going now. See you later!”

Y/N settled onto their chair with another sigh, though one team cap richer. Fisi was already standing in the door with his trademark grin. “Enrico told me you were looking for a cap. Seems you stole one yourself?”

This day would only grow longer.

As the race started and Y/N sat in the garage, monitoring stats and news relayed to them from the Pitwall to check on their drivers. With Fisicella coming in after Lap 3’s engine failure, work was sure to arrive. They took his stats again, got him equipped with nutritious drinks and snacks while also handing his Manager stuff for a bath. Exact instructions regarding temperature and procedure were added along with it. Since the race was still ongoing, they couldn’t care for the driver themselves which was unfortunate but Fernando needed full attention now. Soon after Michael Schumacher overshot a corner with apparent car issues, leaving one of their top contenders ouf of the race. Y/N was on the edge of their seat, attention at it’s peak. Fernando was doing well, staying cool despite the horrible heat. He kept drinking which was very good. His pitstop on Lap 20 went very well, he looked all right in the car as well.

As the race progressed and Fernando stayed on top of the Leaderboard, his victory lap around the track was lovely to watch. Seeing him do that bunny ear gesture in the car was always an amusing sight. Y/N rushed out with the Crew towards Parc Fermée to catch their lucky driver exiting his car, stepping on top and gesturing towards the sky. His race suit was entirely sweat through, his face red but his smile was real.

He headed up to the cooldown room, with Jarno Trulli and Kimi Räikkönen behind him. Y/N was following along as well, equipped with a coke can and some wet towels. Their exasperated winner slid tiredly on the floor, leaning back but still smiling like the sun incarnate.

“Here, Fernando” Y/N said, handing him the Coke Can. He deserved such a treat after this tiring race. They took the towels, helping Fernando get the sweat of his face and hair while also stopping it from burning. After a while, the call came to step outside. Fernando headed towards the Podium, pumping his arms and cheering loudly while Y/N kept looking from beside, happy for their driver.

Getting shooed off to the press conference afterwards kept Fernando away from Y/N who meanwhile prepared everything to get him going again.  Watching the conference on TV was quite amusing – Jarno looked like a wet dog, Fernando lost his color and Kimi was beet red.

As the conference finally ended, Fernando tiredly stumbled into his driver’s room. His steps had gotten weaker as he finally arrived, sinking onto his sofa. Y/N was quick to arrive, smiling at him with their teeth showing. “Congratulations Nando, that was a good race!”

The tired driver faintly nodded as he leaned back, just breathing in. The adrenaline was slowly leaving his body as Y/N handed him his sports drink. “Let’s get you back in shape, right?”

Shortly after, Fernando was bathed, properly dressed and back on his sofa, looking way less haggard. Y/N sat behind him, bobby pins placed between their lips again. A soft brush was holding his locks back as they got put into a short ponytail, barely enough to keep it out of his neck from scrubbing at the now very sensitive skin. Y/N placed a few Bobby Pins in strategic fashion to keep the shorter hairs out of his face, to stop it irritating his eyes. Fernando just sighed in relief as the hair stopped bothering him. “You were right with your prediction” he said.

“Hmm?” Y/N mouthed, still busy.

“With Giancarlo not finishing and me winning. You truly are the real Magic Alonso.”

Y/N laughed softly, patting his shoulder before placing his last Bobby Pin.

“It was your work as much as mine.”

As they were finishing, Y/N lifted the cap from their head, wanting to place it back on Fernandos. The driver however grabbed the medics arm, stopping them from finishing their action.

“Don’t. Keep it. It’s yours now my friend. I know you’ll bring me luck wearing it.”

He lifted the blue Fabric before placing it on the crown of Y/Ns head again. “Please, bring me more luck in the future.” He said, his grin cheeky.

Y/N turned to the side, not wanting him to see their reaction. “Shut up you stupid roasted Paprika.”

“Pimientos asados, eh? Sounds like a great Idea. Let’s get some” he laughed, getting up and pulling Y/N behind him.

[blerb-f1]

September 25, 2010 - Singapore

[blerb-f1]

Paddock shenanigans

Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader PART TWO

This is a Sequel - find part one here

“Oscar, have you seen Y/N since the whole ‘setting your car on fire’ thing?” Mark Webber asked, fiddling with his steaming coffee mug. 

“No. Dr. Roberts returned and Y/N was off training with the FIA. Don't you remember that? You were the one that told me in the first place!” Oscar complained. Mark shook his head. “Right - I totally forgot. I got my hands full of your contract negotiation goin' on. Have you spoken to Y/N at least? I know you got her contact info.”

Now it was Oscar's Turn to shake his head. “Y/N had to hand off her phone. Secret FIA stuff or something. Training's been pretty intense from what I've heard. Almost a Bootcamp. Appears Dr. Roberts really wants to retire about now. “

Before Webber could answer him, however, his phone's special chime went off. A message directed to Oscar, who'd managed to toss his own phone in the bath, had arrived. Y/N was now fully starting at her position coming the Saudi Arabian GP.

The young Australian driver smiled as he read it.

As the GP weekend rolled around, Oscar found himself excited. Y/N was good to be around - or more than that. He couldn't really tell himself. 

The paddock was lively with music blasting, though not that much to his liking. The practice sessions went well for him, less good for Carlos Sainz Appendix. Y/N was the one to order him to the hospital. Oscar himself hadn't had the chance to spot the woman yet, but a chance would surely arise.

The second he finished that thought, Oscar spotted a familiar gloomy appearance.

Y/N stood in the distance, long black sleeves cuffed at the end, puffing up at her shoulders and fluttering in the wind, a dark hat resting on top of her hair. The second she spotted him, she jumped up and waved but also dropped her cup of coffee.

Oscar rushed over to her, ignoring the media, snapping pictures. 

“Nice to see you, Y/N. It's been so long! Should i call you Dr. L/N now?”

Y/N chuckled. “I don't think that's necessary after I managed to set your car aflame. Was McLaren angry at you?” 

Oscar cringed on the inside. The chewing out he'd received afterwards wasn't exactly simply lovely. “A bit. But it's all good, McLaren saw this as a chance to fix the car.” He took a simple look down at the spilled coffee on the ground. 

“Fancy a new mug of coffee? My treat at the McLaren Hospitality?”

“Coffee sounds good. Let's go!”

The Walk to the hospitality was short, letting Y/N sip on her new Latte Macchiato much earlier than she could have hoped to. 

“You look quite simple today. What's up with that?”

“That's pretty direct Oscar. Short answer: I'm a doctor now, can't turn up in a full face of makeup that gets somewhere it's not supposed to. Everything else? This is a Muslim country. Didn't wanna rock up too revealing - not that i usually am.”

“I feel like the bite you spoke of the last time we met is kinda gone Y/N.” Oscar exclaimed.

The woman just pressed her face on the tabletop, sighing loudly. 

“Oh Honey, you wouldn't know. Be happy you're a driver - FIA bootcamp is hell.”

“Hell?” He laid his head to the side, looking like a depressed puppy.

“Sleep deprivation, caffeine overdosing and overworking. They had me going from morning till evening and then last minute studying.” Her fingers were shaking as if the sheer thought was causing her agony. “I am, however, very well-prepared for this job now. Dr. Roberts can retire in peace now. I also got to meet someone great.”

She perked up at that before pulling out her phone. The wallpaper presented to Oscar showed her standing next to a lady in an old-school racesuit, looking quite old herself.

“I got to meet Michèle Mouton! I got to practise driver extraction on her!” With her voice rising high, one could feel Y/N getting excited.

“The rally Legend? That's hella cool Y/N. Though your fangirling makes me think you'd prefer working with her than in F1” Oscar teased her.

“Shut up mate! It's Michèle Mouton! Who wouldn't fangirl meeting her! She was quite happy seeing me enter the world of Motorsport. She even took me on driving laps around circuits and even road track's. Believe me, she scared the carsickness out of me.”

“So our doctor doesn't need a doctor of her own after a car ride? That's nice - i feel like I'm in much better hands now. Have you told the other drivers yet?”

Y/N balled her fists. “Who allowed you to be so cocky, huh? I rescued you from becoming cooked chicken in Qatar. Be grateful.”

Oscar bowed forward. “Thank you, dear saviour. How could i ever repay this favour?”

Y/N pondered for a second before answering. As she turned to speak, her beeper announced itself.  She read the little device before downing her coffee and standing up. “Sorry Oscar, that'll have to wait. I need to check over Ollie Bearman and his dad. Both are nervous wrecks. See you!”

She spoke before running out, sleeves fluttering like a crow's wing. 

Qualifying went well though Oscar couldn't spot the doctor again. Only after the actual race on Sunday did he catch her again - standing next to the medical car still in her racesuit, talking to a few FIA employees about something. Her hair had been put into a tight braid, looking disheveled from the helmet sitting on top. 

As she caught Oscar, she said goodbye to her colleagues before speeding off. 

“Congrats Oscar! I bet it felt great to finally leave Lewis behind you.” She greeted him.

“It sure did - a podium would have been nicer though”, Y/N fumbled around the medical bag slung over her shoulder before procuring a bottle of water of which she quickly downed half. “You came back nice and healthy - so that's all that matters. Want some?” She finished off with a question. Oscar took the bottle, letting the leftover water run down his throat. “Very good. You've been looking a little red again. Make sure to drink enough.”

“Yes Doctor, i will.” He cheekily responded to her. “So what did you want from me as payment for your chivalrous deed? Well, both good deeds now. Nothing's for free when you're concerned. I bet you want repayment.”

Y/N placed her hands on her hips. “Of course Oscar - take example of the Dutch. They even want you to PayPal a Euro if they buy you something.”

“Glad then that i haven't been in Max debt yet.” Oscar smiled at her again. “Want me to repay you in monetary value?”

Y/N sat the bag down on the floor, packing the waterbottle before turning to him again.

“I'd like you to take me out for dinner somewhere. You've got my number, right? I know Mark got you a new phone. So contact me with the time and place. I gotta go now! FIA isn't kind to people being late.” 

With that she zoomed off again, leaving Oscar behind in mild confusion. Had she just asked him to take her on a date? Apparently. He'd better get researching then.

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Sorry for dissaprearing for so long - at first Exam Season kicked my butt and then writing papers was my 13th reason. Enjoy, i'll try to update more!