#Torro rosso boys

[janesurlife]

I MISS THEM SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺

[janesurlife]

One thing about Carlos is that he'll always touch other driver's butt 😜😂

Carlos Sainz, Max Verstappen and THOSE MOVES.

[sunny-sainz]

does anyone know where this photo of carlos is from??

[feraltwinkseb]

August 26, 2016 - Spa, Belgium Source: Dan Istitene/Getty Images

[janesurlife]

So much to unpack here;

Carlos called Max "Maximilian". Max calling carlos "carlitos"

Carlos sending max to the desert, Max sending him to beech with a lot of girls

Carlos teaching max how to flirt in spanish

Max wanting Carlos to sing "I'm sexy and I know it" (which I agree that man knows exactly how he looks and takes full advantage of it)

[janesurlife]

Carlos's Spanish ass was dying in the 🥶

Max & carlos going skiing (2017)

[theemporium]

The Monaco Grand Prix had been a fucking trainwreck.

It was meant to be their weekend. They had been doing so well all weekend. They had been topping the practice sessions. They had been putting in fast laps every session. They had managed to secure the front row after qualifying.

 They had done everything right, and yet it still wasn’t enough because Ferrari fucked everything up in the way they always did. 

Between unnecessarily long and unprepared pit stops to bad strategy calls that left them fighting other cars in old, used tires, it was a fucking shit show and the boys just wanted the race to be over so they could forget about it. They wanted to cross the line and get unnecessarily drunk until the race was nothing but a blip in their memory. 

And that was the plan for the night when they arrived at the club, until they saw you. 

Your relationship with the Ferrari drivers wasn’t exactly conventional nor easy to explain. You don’t even know how you could explain it to someone, because to an outsider looking in, it seemed anything but equal and fair.

It started long before either boy really joined Ferrari.

When Carlos Sainz drove for Torro Rosso and you were joining your father around the world, it was easy to cross paths with the Spaniard. Nothing ever happened, but you were on Carlos’ radar and that was more than enough. Then Charles entered the picture. And years passed without a single thought in your head about ever acting on the attraction for either driver because they became the enemy. 

To the world, you were the Red Bull princess. You were Christian Horner’s pride and joy. You were the face of one of the only pure and innocent things at Red Bull, and nothing could tarnish that image. 

Nothing except the Ferrari boys. 

The two men that were your father’s biggest rivals. The two men that seemed to have you wrapped around their finger long before you could even realise it. The two men that seemed to awaken a fire inside you that you didn’t think existed, and now you never wanted to extinguish it. 

The two men that had trained the perfect, little Red Bull princess into their perfect, little whore. 

And now, in a small and exclusive club in the heart of Monaco, you were just in reach. You were standing beside Max, his arm thrown over your shoulder, as you both laughed and celebrated and drank happily at the expense of both Ferrari boys. 

And something in them snapped. 

You were at least three drinks in, lost in the crowd as you aimlessly danced to whatever song was being pumped through the speakers when you felt their presence. You barely had a chance to open your eyes before you felt a warm and familiar chest settle behind you, hands on your waist that were gripping the fabric of your short dress. 

“You seem happy, cherie,” Charles grumbled, lips brushing against your ear as he pulled you back into him. “Far too fucking happy.”

“Charles,” you murmured breathlessly, leaning into his embrace like it was instinctive. 

“Maybe you like laughing at our expense,” a second voice spoke, and you didn’t even have time to turn your head on your own before you felt fingers digging into your cheeks, turning you to face Carlos who stood in front of you.

You shook your head. “I wasn’t—”

“You didn’t even come to see us, amor,” Carlos grumbled, his voice so clear to you despite the noisy environment of the club around you. “Too busy celebrating with Daddy’s favourite?” 

“I just didn’t know—” you started, only to let out a small whimper when Carlos’ fingers slipped past your lips, two digits laying heavy on your tongue as you gently sucked.

“You’re ours, amor,” he murmured, his hooded eyes focused on the way your pretty painted lips wrapped around his fingers. “Ours to do whatever we want with, right?”

You whined, nodding.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Carlos continued, shaking his head like he was scolding you. “You should have been waiting for us. You should have been on your fucking knees and instead you were running around with Max.” He paused for a moment, his gaze moving to Charles behind you. “Maybe you just need a fucking reminder who you belong to.”

You barely gasped around his fingers when you felt Charles’ hands wander lower until his fingers brushed against the hem of your dress. Carlos watched you, delighted in the way your eyes widened when Charles pushed the fabric of your dress up to expose your scantily clad ass in a thong.

“This just for us, cherie?” Charles whispered in your ear, his voice low and his accent thick and it made you clench your legs together.

“Maybe she does remember she’s our whore after all,” Carlos commented as if you weren’t there.

Charles fingers wandered, his palm moving to cup your pussy and he let out a dark laugh. “And she’s fucking wet already. Barely even touched her.”

“Because she’s such a good toy,” Carlos cooed as he pushed his fingers further into your mouth until you let out a choked garble. “Even when she’s not trying, she wants to be our good girl.” 

“Shit,” Charles groaned, his nose brushing against your neck as his fingers teased your soaking cunt. “She’s fucking dripping, Carlos. Making such a mess.”

“Guess we need to take care of our toy, Charles,” the Spaniard murmured in response. 

And it should have terrified you. All of it should have made some sort of warning bell ring in your head. You were in public. You were in a club. Anyone could see the three of you. Anyone could see the way the Ferrari boys were touching you. 

It was dark and it was loud and most of the people around you were far too drunk to comprehend their surroundings, but all it would take was for one picture to be taken and for the world to see the Red Bull princess at the mercy of the Ferrari boys.

But it didn’t scare you, or maybe you just really didn’t care. Maybe because you didn’t care what the world thought because Charles was sliding his cock into you and Carlos was slowly pumping his fingers in your mouth in a way that made you wish it was his cock, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything else at that moment. 

“Look at our pretty girl,” Carlos cooed as your eyes fluttered shut with Charles’ thrusts, his hands on your waist as he fucked you without a single care. “Taking it so well, amor. Like a good toy.” 

“Fuck,” Charles groaned in your ear, panting in your ear as he pulled you back onto his cock. “So fucking tight, cherie. Gonna fill you up and let people see me dripping down your leg all night.” 

You whined around Carlos’ fingers, a sound so pathetic and desperate that both boys almost wished the whole club could hear you. 

“We are gonna fucking ruin you, amor,” Carlos murmured as his other hand softly caressed your cheek as if a small dribble of drool wasn’t leaking from the corner of your lips and ruining your makeup. “Not Red Bull’s princess, but our fucking whore.”

You moaned pathetically. 

“Who knows,” his grin was a little vindictive and sinister. “Maybe we’ll send a little picture to your father. Show him which team his daughter really belongs to.”

.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 4)

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

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: apologies if this isn't 100%. i wrote this in between travelling to japan to attend suzuka. and then i got sick and couldn't even go lol.

P4 - L-sits and pull-ups

Charles Leclerc was known for being a nice guy. 

All the boys knew it. Lando experienced it when he saw how Charles was genuine with service staff whenever they went somewhere. Alex had experienced it in how Charles treated his family, leaving the F1 boys to spend time with Arthur whenever F2 joined the schedule - or when his mother visited the Paddock. Whereas George had just done a quick FaceTime to his mother on Mother’s Day, Charles had sent Pascale Leclerc a luxury basket with a surprise yacht trip and a massage.

“She was having a bad week.” The Monegasque reasoned when the boys found out.

Pierre’s PS5 was a result of Charles’ kindness; sourcing it for his upset friend who had missed the drop. Max's apartment was a result of Charles' kindness; helping him look for places in his home city for the Dutchman looking to buy property in the foreign Monaco. Max owed Charles a lot.

If not for his apartment, then for his F1 seat.

Mercedes were taking too long. Charles knew someone at Red Bull's junior team who could help him score an interview with Helmut Marko. And when you told Charles to stop being so nice to Max after all the drama that happened in F2, he shrugged and said it was the nice thing to do.

So you, a Torro Rosso trainer, helped Max Verstappen with an interview.

Because Charles was kind and he asked you.

And there was nothing you wouldn't do for Charles Leclerc.

Charles’ circles especially were all aware of you before he even joined the grid. It was just that sort of thing. Everyone knows everyone in motorsports. All those boys had seen you hanging around him at the karting races. Were it not for the stark difference in appearance, some might’ve thought you were family. Some did. Because for the longest time, that’s what you and Charles were. Family.  

You were always there for him. You celebrated him when he won. You supported him when he didn’t. You were always the first person he went to when he finished his race. Not his parents, not Jules, not anyone - you. 

He would come to you and you would quickly repeat some key English phrases for the interviewers who would surely come for him. You would pat him on the back and offer a warm smile - no matter the result - and offer some feedback based on what you saw. Performance was your speciality after all.

Then, after everything, you guys would finish with a homemade plate of your pancakes. No matter what. That’s how it went and how it would always go. 

Until 2018.

That had been a shit fucking show of a year. The rookie trio had been super confused when they finally arrived at F1 and saw you dressed as Hospitality. Charles gave no answer to Lando, Alex or George, no explanation to why he barely acknowledged you. It had been Pierre, the one who had been there through it all, who had quietly explained to them what had happened.

For a while, Alex had a hard time talking to Max when he found out. 

Charles hadn’t been surprised that the grid had found out. Nothing ever stayed a secret in this fucking place. NDAs were a joke. The whole agreement between him and Charlotte had been unearthed by some lower ranking Ferrari employee who didn’t know how to keep shut. Then again, Charles had expected it to come out eventually. Half the drivers were dating for PR anyway. 

Ferrari were already on his case about finding a new replacement, a pretty girlfriend for him to post boyfriend material pictures with so it can ‘increase his numbers’ with the female fanbase. Since Drive To Survive had done well to popularise the sport with a whole new demographic of F1 fans, teams were trying to capitalise on this as much as possible. Charles quietly suspected that this was part of the reason why Ferrari approached Carlos.

That and they probably wanted to get rid of Seb as quickly as possible after he found out what happened between to you and raged.

Though, Charles could understand Seb’s stance on it. He himself was conflicted about it, half the time unsure if he had made the right call to listen to Mattia. He had just been hurt and upset and his father had just passed away and the press had been vicious and Charles was just desperate to fulfil his dream of getting the coveted seat. 

Well, your joint dream. 

It had been the dream of the both of you. It was why you worked just as hard as he did. You had taught him English. He had taught you Italian. He networked and raced. You built cars and trained. He had helped you get a job in Torro Rosso. You had helped him get a seat in Alfa Romeo. 

Which, of course, led to him getting a spot in Scuderia Ferrari. 

Except by the time he was putting on the red, you two were no longer speaking to one another. Or, he was no longer speaking to you and you finally accepted he had cut you off. Gone were the days where he was searching the crowds for your face, rushing to you after the race finished.

Five years ago, he stopped eating pancakes. 

He knew you still made them, of course. And not because pancakes had been your everyday breakfast since you both turned fourteen and you started weightlifting and tracking your macros. He knew because he had seen some Alpine reserve driver eating them. 

His name was Oscar Jack Piastri. F2 Champion who also won F3 and the Renault Cup. He had more trophies than anyone else his age. For a moment, Charles thought it was because you back training drivers and were working with him.

Arthur later refuted this when Charles was grilling him that no, you weren't training Oscar Piastri. You actually hadn’t had much interaction with him when you would come down to F2. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to Y/N again?” Arthur had asked, assuming that’s why Charles was asking about you. “Can we be friends with her again?”

“No.” 

“You know maman still doesn’t believe what happened.”

Charles was known for being a nice guy, but he hung up on his brother. Charles really was one of the kinder drivers, but when Alex told them about the tweet, he had scoffed and sneered. When Oscar Piastri himself arrived in orange and held his hand out to greet the nice Monacoan driver, Charles glared and kept his arms crossed. Fuck this. He was not going to shake Oscar Piastri’s fucking hand. 

Even though, deep down, Charles knew there was no need for this. Arthur had confirmed that Oscar really was just a really talented driver - Y/N hadn’t trained him. This was no Max Verstappen situation.

Moreover, it wasn’t like Charles was in Daniel Ricciardo’s position.

If it weren't for the million cameras recording the first meeting of the two Australian drivers, Charles could only imagine Daniel's reaction to the rookie. It was one thing that Oscar essentially took Ricciardo's seat.

The other was that everyone had seen him with you.

Admittedly, Daniel had a reason to not want to shake Oscar’s hand, Charles could reason. Even if he still thought Ricciardo was an espèce de putain merde for what he did to you. 

Still, Charles couldn’t explain it. He wouldn’t explain it. He didn’t need to. The grid had so far understood it perfectly fine; you don’t go near Y/N. When Logan had joined the grid, Alex had the good sense to quietly fill him in on what had happened.

Why the fuck couldn’t Lando do the same?

Which brings us to right now: Bahrain 2023. A control unit failure meant a DNF for his first race of the season. When is this bad luck going to end? Charles retired his car, managing to make it past the McLaren garage on his way to the Ferrari red at the end of the Pit Lane.

It was just as well that his car was slowing to a stall. It meant that he managed to catch a glimpse of the McLaren garage - and the naive Australian rookie stood with a plate in his hands, very clearly eating some pancakes. 

Charles almost drove into a mechanic. 

It was 3am. $uicideboy$ was playing through your headphones. You weren’t wearing any shoes. 

This could only mean one thing: you were doing calisthenics. 

Your arms were shaking slighting as you bent your elbows and tucked your legs in before straightening them. Your grip on the parallette bars was slipping but you engaged your core tighter, hoping to keep balanced as you straightened out your legs and held the L-sit position. 

Oscar had DNF’ed on lap 13. The media was already going wild with questions about his decision to ditch Alpine for McLaren and whether or not this was just karma. McLaren looked horrible. Even his teammate had finished 17th. No matter your feelings on the young Brit, even you had to admit Lando Norris was a decent driver. 

During the course of pre-season preparations, wind had carried the gossip that Zak Brown had revealed the car to the team earlier this year with a sub-par level of enthusiasm. Whilst it wasn’t uncommon for cars to arrive at Sakhir with plans for future upgrades… you hadn’t thought it would be this bad. For McLaren. At this rate, the MCL60 was looking like a back of the field car. 

What’s more the team was struggling. One only needed to look at their qualifying session to see how bad it had been. Engineers giving mixed reports. Oscar’s radio not working and getting out in Q1. Lando getting mixed tyres and getting out in Q2. A whole ass clusterfuck, in your opinion.

And Daniel had been there, smiling smug whenever the camera decided to pan to the Red Bull garage.

The song changed in your headphones. Your arm strained. You dropped, fell forward. Cue the stream of expletives that would’ve made even Guenther blush.

You knew that going to the gym after the race had finished up - a night race that - was going to mess up your sleep schedule. However, you were too wired after everything to go to sleep. You needed the dopamine rush. There was too much going on for you to process any other way.

Because, firstly, you needed to get rid of the image of Daniel’s smug smirk that was currently etched into your brain.

You had skipped your post-dinner protein shake and had your coffees black today. You had started your session with a series of HIIT sprints on the treadmill before you did as many pull ups as your body would allow. It had been quite some time since you had done calisthenics training so religiously but you were already internally creating a new program for yourself. 

That is, you were already mentally preparing for the cut you had decided to undertake the moment Daniel Ricciardo had walked into the gym after finding out he'd lost his seat. And blame you for it.

You pushed yourself up off the ground and came to your parallette bars again. You grabbed each one and then lifted yourself up again. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to focus purely on the lactic acid running through your body. 

Because, secondly, you were stressing more than you should about Charles’ DNF.

You had watched the testing sessions carefully. You always did. Always keeping an eye out on the red car with the black T cam. Charles hadn’t done too bad but, obviously, it was hard to give a genuine judge. Everyone always sandbagged.

For example, Red Bull didn’t look as strong in testing, but then came out on race day and finished as they did. You could be happy for Max, especially since Jos was in attendance and knew just what that meant… but you also knew how it would look for Ferrari that Carlos had finished fourth and Charles hadn’t even finished the race. 

The car did look strong through. That was evident by how Ferrari had done in qualifying. Charles had out qualified Carlos, a narrow Ferrari 3-4 behind a Red Bull 1-2. However, your former childhood best friend had a bad luck streak unlike anything you had ever witnessed. 

And even though the word ‘former’ was in the equation, you never liked seeing Charles like this. Even if he was likely the reason no one in the grid spoke to you anymore.

Well, until now.

Because, thirdly, Oscar Piastri threw a spanner in the works.

You knew how it was going to look. You knew. It was one thing for you to interact this closely with a driver. It was another thing entirely for you to unofficially train him. However, as Zak Brown had found out, there was no way you could be allowed to join McLaren as a performance trainer for Oscar.

When the young driver had filled you in about his meetings with Zak Brown and his particular stipulation, you called him an idiot and told him to sign. When Oscar filled you in about his new plan to be able to work alongside you through all the loopholes his father's lawyer found, you called him an idiot and told him it wasn't worth it.

"I beg to differ. If you don't want to, that's fine. But not because of whatever drama happened."

He knew the drama. It was impossible that a team principle had looked into having you as his driver 's trainer and not found out what had happened. It was also impossible that Oscar Piastri, former Prema driver - as in, former Arthur Leclerc teammate - and current teammate to loose tongue Lando, didn't know about you and Charles.

You had honestly just waited for the moment he would bring it up. He never did.

Because Oscar, you were coming to learn, was far more level-headed and mature than most the drivers on this grid. And he was so young. You didn't want to see anyone fuck that up. You really, really didn't.

Still, you said no.

Then a week later you saw that fucking tractor make him DNF.

You leaned forward and brought yourself down into a handstand, counting to ten before bending your elbows and lowering yourself slowly. You lifted yourself up and then tucked your legs once more. Your whole body was shaking more and more know but and you fought to breathe through it. You finally lowered yourself and let out a deep huff. Whilst you weren't pleased with how out of practice you were, you were a little pleased that you finally managed to lower yourself - instead of falling down.

You looked ahead at the mirrors and then saw a familiar face of the driver walking into the gym. Oscar dropped his gym bag near yours and went straight to the treadmill to warm up. You kept your eyes on him as you held yourself up on the parallettes and watched the young driver fiddle with his phone and earphones before starting a light jog.

You took a moment before you pulled yourself up and went over to him. Oscar met your eyes as he continued to jog. He pulled down earphone but you said nothing as you pressed the button to increase the speed. Oscar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"45 seconds on. 15 seconds off. 20 repetitions." You said. Oscar nodded and put his earphone back in. You shook your head. He frowned and pulled them down.

"You don't drive with music so don't play anything." You said. "Feeling something in your ear needs to become second nature."

He nodded and you went to his phone and pressed pause. Then you made a voice when you noticed that Ed Sheeran was playing.

"Don't judge me." Oscar said.

"I am. You're working out to fucking Ed Sheeran." You responded with a scrunched nose. Oscar shook his head, smiling slightly, but said nothing else. In the silence, you observed his form and counted his breaths. You noticed slight irregularity with his inhale and exhales and immediately pulled him up on it.

And so you spent the rest of the night training Oscar Piastri.

By the time you both finished, and he gave you a tired and sweaty high five, the clock read five thirteen in the morning.

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[lostmymind-0]

Loosing you broke me | MV1 X Leclerc! Sister reader

Word count: 2961

Genre: hurt/Angst, comfort, a bit fluff

Tw: self-harming, death and attempted suicide

Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc did not get along. At all. The rivalry between the two boys was too big. Ever since they started karting against each other have they tried to outdrive the other one. The fights would often lead to one forcing the other off the track, even after the race had ended. Their parents both tried sitting them down and talk to them but nothing helped. Nothing except one thing, Juliett Leclerc. The little sister of Charles Leclerc. The little girl had everyone wrapped around her little finger. Especially her big brother, Charlie. Only for her would he calm his hate towards the Dutch boy, who was equally wrapped around her finger, if not more.

As the boys grew older did Hevé brought the little girl along to almost every race, even if it was just to maintain the peace on track. Over the time did the little Leclerc grew into liking the blond boy her brother stood on the podium with. The two found many shared interests and would disappear for hours after the race. Making their fathers and her brothers come looking for them. Hevé would gently lecture little Juliette in France while Jos would straight up yell angry words in Dutch at the boy. Each time Juliette would see the man would she glare as much as a seven-year-old could at the grown man.

Max and Juliette only grew closer. To the despite of her brothers. All three of them, even Arthur. Juliette was the calmness Max needed after a yelling from his dad and he was the confidence she needed when she once again felt like the world was too big for her and the urge to hide was getting big. Both of their mothers could see the changes in their kids when they were together. It seemed like their ware the puzzle piece the other one needed, even at their young age of sixteen and fifteen, where they officially became a couple.

The day of the Japanese Grand Prix was the supposed to be the best day of Juliette’s life. She and her brothers had travelled along with Jules to watch him race. It was not the first time they would see him race but it was still special. The four Leclerc’s watched as the young Frenchman crashed into the crane. “Jules!,” Juliette screamed and held onto Charles as they watched as the marshals tried to safe Jules. Holding onto his sister Charles prayed for his godfather’s life.

It was Pascale who called Max after the crash. He had of course seen it on TV and worried about his girlfriend as he knew how close she was to the Frenchman. “You need to come to her, Max. She is not doing good.,” were the worried words of Pascale that made the young Dutch book the next flight to see his girlfriend. He had to fight almost an hour with his father until he was allowed to go but that was worth it.

Max had expected almost everything but not this. Not seeing his girlfriend almost lifeless on the bed in her hotel room. The lights out and the curtains close. There was no light in this room nor in her eyes when she turned her head to face him. Without saying a word did he took off his shoes and got into bed with her, holding her tightly. Slowly did she start to cry. She had not cried since she saw Jules crash. She had just been sitting at the hospital or laying in her room. Charles tried to comfort her but could not do much as he did not feel a lot better. It was Max who finally got her to eat something as well as taking a shower. With gentle words and a lot of patience did he help her to detangle her mess of hair before braiding for her. For the rest of the year did Max took her with him to the F3 races. At first was everyone worried that it would be bad for Juliette to be at races again, but it helped her. Or so it seemed. She was okay for a while. She was cheering for Max when he stood on the podium, and she was there when he got the call to drive for Torro Rosso for the next season.

It all went bad when Jules passed. After months of coma did, he finally passed in July of twenty fifteen. It was truly devastating for the entire Formula one community. But even more for his family and friends. Once again was Max there to hold the young girl in his arms as she cried her heart out. Jules was her fourth brother. He was there the day she learned how to walk or for her first day of school but now was he gone. She would never see his smile again. After Jules’ death did everyone believed to never see the only Leclerc daughter smile again. Even with Max by her side. She was only a shadow of herself. Max still took her traveling with him to races while she did her school online. But even that did nothing to help her. In October did she had to stop traveling with Max as Jos thought she was distracting Max too much. So, she went back home.

In this time being apart did she really fell into a dark hole. No one could reach her. Everything felt like it was suffocating her. Like she could not breathe anymore. The only little dose of dopamine she felt was when she took the little blade she had hid in the drawer of her nightstand and cut the skin of her thigh. The pain made her fell better for a short time. The blood showed her that she was alive. Every time she was sitting at the dinner table and her mother would ask her how she was feeling that day, with that worried look on her face, could Juliette dig her fingers against the fresh wound and say the same words. “I am fine.” But she was not. Slowly the blade did not only dance across her thighs but also her arms. No one ever saw them. She was smart enough to wear clothes to always hide them from her family and Max was gone racing, so he also could not see them. It was her best hidden secret.

It was before Max’s first formula one race in Monaco when he discovered the horrible way his girlfriend had been coping. He could not believe that he had not noticed anything. “What the fuck is this, Juliette?!”, he asked her and held her arm in his hand. Staring at the fresh wounds all across her forearm. “Nothing.”, she tried to tell him, but he was not having that. Taking her face in his hand he asked her again and the young girl finally broke down. Telling him all about she started and how she felt. He was still angry.-and confused but he was mostly glad that she was telling him that. “Does anyone know? Charles?”, he asked and pulled her into a hug. “No, nobody can know, please. Especially not Charlie!”, she begged, and Max agreed to keep her secret.

After the race did the two sat down and talked about it for a long time. Max wanted her to get help and she slowly opened up to the idea, but she still refused to tell her brothers. “Someone should know, mijn liefje.”, he told her, and she knew that he was right but there was a lot of shame that kept her from telling anyone, from asking for help. “How about you talk to your dad? I can come with you if you like.”, he offered, and she accepted. Not even two days later were the two sitting in her home with her father. Her mother and brothers were gone for the day, so it was the perfect time. With a lot of reassuring and a lot of deep breaths did Juliette manage to finally tell her father about her struggles. Asking him for help. “Mon soleil, I am so sorry you suffer this much. I will help you as much as I can. Thank you for telling me.”, Heve told his daughter and hugged her as they both cried. “I don’t want my brothers to know, please Papa.”, she asked her father and he agreed to keep this from his sons.

After that day did they found her a great therapist who showed her ways to cope without harming herself. It was a slow progress but Juliette got better in coping. Max and her dad were always there when it got hard, helping her to find a way to go without the blade. But just as it got better and she was able to smile again did the next horror news came. Heve had cancer. While everyone worried about him was he only worried about how his little girl would do if he would not make it. Heve met up with Max in secret and asked him to take care of Juliette. To make sure she would not drown in the darkness again. Max promised to try everything he could. The rest of the year did they try to spend it as good as possible. Max got into Red Bull and got his first win. Which was also the time the media took more notice in his private life, discovering the rather private relationship of the two young adults. It was rather harmless as they just dug out pictures of the two being young and in love. The pictures her brothers hated with their heart.

For the rest of the year did Juliette split her time between spending it with Max and spending it at home with her family. The whole family tried to spend as much time possible together as no one could say how long her father still had.

In June of the next year did Heve loose the battle against cancer. Leaving the entire family broken. Max wanted to be there right after Heve passed but could not as he was stuck in a Canada. But the day after did he took the first flight to Monaco to be with his girl as well as the funeral. “What are you doing here?”, Charles asked as he opened the door and found the Dutch standing there. “I am here to be there for your sister. Can I come in now?”, he asked and Charles stepped aside, knowing that it would be for the better. “I am sorry for your loss, Charles.”, Max told the second oldest Leclerc, who just nodded and left. Walking up the stairs Max found his girlfriend in a really bad state. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and her hair was a mess. “I am so sorry, mijn liefje.”, he whispered before pulling her into his arms. Crying against his chest she let all the emotions go. All the anger of why it had to be her father and not someone else. All the sadness. All the frustration. Everything. Max said nothing but just held her as tight as he could.

While Max and Charles went away racing two weeks later was Juliette not able to leave her bed. Her therapist had tried to call her multiple times but failed. She was alone at home with her oldest brother, Lorenzo. Well, he was mostly distracting himself with work while Juliette was spiralling without him knowing. It only took a short trip from Lorenzo to the store when she finally fall down the cliff. Reaching into her drawer she walked into the bathroom. Filling the tub with water she stepped into the cold water with her clothes still on. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes before lifting the shiny silver blade up. Watching the blood pour out of her wrists she relaxed at the feeling.

Lorenzo yelled for her multiple times, asking if she was hungry but got no answer. Frustrated with his sister the oldest Leclerc went up the stairs and tried to find the girl. His first try was obviously her room, but no success. Then he heard a noise from the bathroom. Knocking on the door he asked if she was alright. As he still got no answer did he open the door. Revealing the horrible sight of his half passed out sister, covered in her own blood. “Merde! Qu'est-ce que vous avez fait? (Fuck! What have you done?)”, he asked her, rushing to her side. She was still breathing and had pulse. Grabbing the closet towel he applied pressure while calling an ambulance.

In the hospital did they stabilize her and stitched her wrists up. The first person Lorenzo called was their mother, telling her what was going on. Pascale was, rightfully, shocked and booked the first flight home. “Don’t tell, Charlie and Arthur. I don’t want them to know.”, was the first thing Juliett told her big brother when she woke up. “Cheri, why would you do this?”, Lorenzo asked, taking her hand carefully in his. “It is complicated. I just lost it after Papa passed. Did you call Max?”, “I called Maman and I think she told him. They are on their way here. Arthur and Charles are still in Baku.”, he explained and she nodded, asking how the boys did in the race. “Charles won. Max was fifth. But sleep now.”. Hours later did Pascale and Max rush through the hospital doors, waking the young girl. “Liefje, how are you?”, Max wanted to know as soon as he saw his girlfriend. It hurt to see her like this. Pale, bandaged up and hooked up on machines. “I feel tired.”, she whispered, shame of what she has done hitting her. She was ashamed that her brother had seen her like that and now her mother and boyfriend. Tears filled her eyes before she started sobbing. “What is it, cheri?”, Pascale asked her daughter, sitting down on the bed next to her. “I am so sorry. I never wanted it to come so far. I just could not take the pain anymore.”, she sobbed while holding onto her mother. “I know it hurts but this is not the right way.”, Pascale gently told her. Nodding she reached her hand out for Max to take.

After a while did Pascale and Lorenzo gave the couple a bit privacy. “I am really sorry. I just lost control.”, Juliette whispered and held onto Max’s hand like he would disappear if she let go. “I know it hard and I know that you miss him deeply but I need you to fight. If not for yourself then do it for me. I need you. More than you know. Without you would I be lost. So please fight. I will do what I can to help you but I need you to fight. For me, for Jules and for your father. I love you.”, he pleaded, crying as well. The fear of loosing her was the worst fear he had ever known. “I will try. I love you.”, she promised him.

It was still in the hospital when she decided to go into stationary therapy. Max, her mother and oldest brother all supported her a lot in that decision. Charles and Arthur still had no clue but she planned on telling them as it was holding her back from healing. So in summer break, when she was allowed to go home for the weekends did she decided to finally come clean to her other two brothers. With Max present. “What is he doing here? I thought it was going to be a family day?”, Arthur complained when he walked into the living room and saw the Dutch, once again, sitting next to his sister. “I want him here. now please sit down and shut up.”, Juliette asked him. Rolling his eyes he listened to her. “What is going on, mom cheri?”, Charles asked his sister. He feared that she could be pregnant or worse engaged to Max. “There is something I have to tell you.”, she stared only for Arthur to interrupt her. “Are you pregnant?”, “No, now shut up.”, she yelled. Max squeezed her leg, telling her to calm down. “Ignore Arthur, cheri.”, Charles told her and she nodded. “I have been struggling for quite a while now. Like a lot.”, she once again started. A nod from her mother encouraged her to go ahead. “I have been dealing with severe depression as well as self harm.”, “Self harm?”, Charles asked and she slowly lifted her sleeve up. Revealing her arm, that was covered in scars. Some small and white while others were still red and fresh. But the most striking one was the thick vertical one that was still looking rather fresh. “Merde!”, Charles cursed and gently let his fingers run over the scars, not believing they were real until he felt them under his fingertips. “Why have you not said anything?”, Arthus wanted to know. “I was afraid what you would say but I was also extremely ashamed. I did not want anyone to know. Max found out by accident and then talked me into telling dad.”, she explained, covering her arm again. “I am now in therapy. In stationary therapy to be precise.”. The brothers needed a moment to let everything sink in before saying anything. “Can we help in any way?”, Charles asked while Arthus was overwhelmed. “Just not judging me or hating me would be good.”, “Cheri, I could never hate you! You are my baby sister and I will always love you!”, Charles protested and pulled her tightly into his arms.

[janesurlife]

Can someone please please write a fic about this... I'll give them my first born

My sister called them Versainz and now I can't unsee it.

[blerb-f1]

Junge - Sebastian Vettel x reader

Sebastians Parents hate his career choice but at least you're here.

This is like a prequel to THIS fanfic - please beware that Sebs actual parents are incredibly cute and supportive and also i didn't mean to make like consistent songfics yet here we are. Its about "Junge" by "Die Ärtze"

hahahahaha

America's West, the vast prairie

And right in the middle of it: A small house

And in it: A concerned mother

2023 - Sebastian has just announced his retirement. You, his trusty Engineer since the Toro Rosso Days have spent the day looking back and reminiscing. Throughout the years you’ve had people come and go in your lives, but only you two and Britta, his manager, were truly consistent. One Group of People you absolutely couldn't count on were his parents.

They happily supported his Kart Career but going into F1? Never, F1 was for nobodies and troublemakers. If asked in which Michael would fall, they’d just say “Schumi is an exception”

Throughout the BMW Sauber Testing Years Seb would exist in the car given to him by BMW, friends apartments or hotels rented by Sauber themselves but never anything consistent. Once the move to Torro Rosso happened, with you becoming his equally young engineer, Red Bull made the decision to rent an apartment for you to share. Although you weren't a Red Bull Junior, Fate brought it this way. 

You’d taken way too many angry calls of Sebs Parents, causing you to one day chuck his mobile phone down the toilet- He was enraged but life soon improved until the worst day  happened. Your apartment was small yet cozy with each of you decorating their room lively. His covered in trophies and race suits, yours with study notes and smart looking graphs. Both however representative of your interests, with your shared common space housing your gaming consoles, a popcorn maker you bought thinking you’d use it a lot and a massive pullout couch someone put out for free which you transported home hanging off Sebs BMW X3 

Boy (Boy), why haven't you learned anything?

Look at Dieter, he even has a car!

Why don't you go to Uncle Werner's workshop?

He'll give you a permanent employment, if you ask him about it

Boy (Boy, Boy)

That was the first thing barreling out of a phone held to your ears. 

Sebastian and You had just entered the Red Bull Factory during off week to test new parts on the car. You, additionally, had more classes on being a Race Engineer. While you already were supporting him during races, you still had to study more to become better.

Just as you were about to enter the elevator, Helmut Marko came angrily flying towards you. 

“SEBASTIAN VETTEL! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I'M TAKING CALLS FOR YOU!” he shouted, throwing his Motorola towards you both. His moms shriekky noisy voice echoed through the speaker. 

His Cousin Dieter was a useless POS, whom his Uncle Werner, the workshop owner, coddled until there was no tomorrow. You had the displeasure of meeting them both when his parents sent them to your shared apartment, in hopes of building bridges. You both however preferred the Fernando Alonso Bridge and set this bridge on fire with a can of gasoline.

They were horrible rude upon intruding on your shared space. Dieter insulting your gaming setup, Werner complaining about your general decor and moving in. You’d gotten very fed up with them, opening the door and telling them to Leave that exact second.

Afterwards you and Seb had celebrated by ordering expensive Delivery Pizza while watching 100% Pirated movies. Most likely an Austin Powers Movie.

And the way you always look, holes in your pants, and always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

And your hair too, words fail me - do you have to dye it?

(What will the neighbors say?)

You never come home, we don't know what to do anymore

"DON'T GET THE TUB DIRTY!" you shrieked as Seb was trying to wash the dye out of your hair. You'd attempted to dye your hair purple and black with Seb being the one doing the work. He was, however, not good at being cleanly. He'd gotten dye inside of his gloves, on his pants and covered half of the apartment in the process. The washing out process was equally catastrophic with him getting your old bathroom tiles covered as well. 

As some dye was left over, you decided to apply it to his beautiful locks. You both came out very matchy. His hair had him look like a black-purple Raccoon and as he was a skinny boy, he looked more like a hungry raccoon than the fat ones you’d usually see rummaging on TV.

The day after you had an appointment with a piercer to get further piercings, the guy immediately thought you were a couple because of the matching hair.  You got multiple Piercings, each of them becoming their own memory for the future. You still remembered Brittas Expression as you turned up on Monday with all the metal jingling of your ears and in your face.

What you hadn't however expected, was receiving an invite to Sebastian's Aunts Birthday Party.  The Raccoon dye in his hair greatly contrasted the grown up BMW you found yourself in as you two were approaching Heppenheim. Seb took you along as an emotional support animal to better endure the party. You had met his parents before, the day they turned up at your house and another when they turned up at the factory. The day they had turned up at your house, you had your lovely neighbor open the building's front door. She was a lovely lady with hearing issues so you could be as loud as you wanted without bothering her. She often would cook for you in turn helping her with heavy tasks. She shushed them away and made you a hearty meal.

As the car pulled into his old home's driveway, you clearly saw people rushing towards the front door and stumbling out. Seb was clutching the wheel tightly, you both had been driving all the way from Austria so you were already pretty tired.

As you stepped outside you could hear his mom let out a surprised scream, it getting louder as Sebastian stepped out. Your favorite Piercing (a chain connecting from your lips to the ear) was glittering under the porchlight as his little brother rushed out, pushing his mom aside. He jumped upwards into Sebs Arms, possibly being the one most excited for his return.

“Who is this…Woman?” his mom asked, almost snakelike. 

“My Race Engineer and Roommate, Y/N”, Seb stated while brushing through his brother's hair.

Boy (Boy) don't break your mother's heart

It's not too late to enroll at university

You used to be interested in animals, wouldn't that be worth pursuing?

Your own vet practice, Boy

The dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. His aunt was to your surprise the one married to Werner, so he, the aunt and Dieter kept giving you dirty looks. His grandparents were equally unhappy with your both looks. Meanwhile his little brother was trying to show him pictures and awards. His Mom didn’t miss a single Chance to insult his driving career, only his dad stayed quiet. Then she started, talking about his love for animals and proposing he should become a vet again. A proposal, she kept repeating uselessly. 

Finally she dragged him away and his little brother approached you with shimmering eyes, inviting you to his room to show you his collection of things. 

You happily took the chance to flee from annoying relatives as you settled onto Fabians Bed, the sheets with car print giving way under your bum. The quiet mumbling from downstairs being way more endurable than the massively loud chatter. You would always pick the sound of a screaming V10, even if it would blast your hearring away. It would at least protect you from the pain of being repeatedly and hiddenly insulted.

knock knock

His father came in, face pulled into a mildly sad expression as he sheepishly stood in front of the room's door. you eyed him, waiting for more insults of your person to be hurled at you.

Instead however, he gave you a bag.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah”

“Please” he was a quiet man, his age clearly visible on his face. “Please give this to Sebastian. Heike, she… She isn’t herself . This isn’t like her. But Seb, he should have this back.”

You take the bag and gingerly lay it on the mattress next to you.

“If she’s gotten so bad, why don’t you leave her?”

“I promised to stick to her, in good and bad times.”

And the way you always look, piercings in your nose, and always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

Electric guitars and always these lyrics

Nobody wants to listen to that

(What will the neighbors say?)

You never come home, so much bad company

We will disinherit you

(What will the tax office say?)

How is it all going to end, we are worried

Seb and You were finally back home. Home, yes that’s what Austria had become for you both.  

The apartment was quiet until you rummaged through the cupboard, pulling out an  Electric Guitar and its required equipment. You gave Seb a cheeky grin before proceeding to play Wonderwall by Oasis. “Not Wonderwall…” Sebastian moaned.

You handed him the Guitar. “Then play something Better, Starboy!”

“But I don't know how to?”

“Just let it out!” you screamed before stomping around the living room, tumbling over collections of varying junk and memorabilia. 

clinggggg

You’d stumbled over the long forgotten bag his father had handed you. The Guitar abruptly stopped as Seb dropped it onto the Sofa while staring the bags contents

His first trophy, his favorite stuffed animal and his laminated photos of meeting Michael for the first time.

“Where did you get those from?” Seb asked with anger lacing his voice.

“Your father gave them to me.”

He looked between you and the bag's contents, difficulty enshrining his expression as you bent down, picking up the trophy. You lifted it, brushing your shirt over it. After a serious glance you shoved his newest trophies to the side and placed it smack dab in the middle. You could clearly imagine the little, then blonde boy, bursting with pride upon being handed it by his childhood Idol Michael Schumacher.

And you were such a sweet child

And you were such a sweet child

And you were such a sweet child

You were so sweet

And always your friends, I bet you all take drugs

And always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

Think of your future, think of your parents

Do you want us to die?

[bwoahtastic]

Random thought but momma Maxie is such a nice momma. Always kind and knows how to handle pups and big feelings. In my brain torro rosso/early redbull seb who was bullied for winning at his school and just a shy energetic passionate boy. He would adore having this amazing momma.

Oh pls, Max bring momma of tiny funky little sebby? Sobbing yhat is so cute!! He is such a sweet pup and so passionate about racing, but his biggest love is his amazing momma who is so sweet and patient but will always protect him!!

Max always being there at races but never mean at his baby ofc, just so ducking proud!

[mavernick2]

WIP WEDNESDAY!

hello you cool people. this my first wip wednesday and i present a little icemav extract from my top gun formula 1 au. not sure when i’ll actually get the first chapter out because i’m incredibly busy, but i’m loving this au so far!

Kazansky.

It wasn’t as if Pete hadn’t known about him.

Ferrari’s current golden boy, the man who Red Bull had been trying to snatch for two years, now set to win his first world championship.

Thomas Kazansky.

Pete let the name roll around in his tongue.

Tom — nicknamed ‘Iceman’ by his fans, was a brawny, twenty six year old Russian-American. His frosted tips were often slicked back and perfect with not a single strand out of place, even managing to maintain the look when he took his helmet off. He had piercing blue eyes, and a resting expression that strongly resembled a Paddington hard-stare.

If you’d given Pete a few drinks, he would’ve happily told you that Tom Kazansky was probably the hottest man he’d seen in his entire life.

Staring at Tom was unlikely to be the best method of preparing for the race. Nevertheless, Pete was doing it anyway. He hoped he was at least being subtle, hiding his gaze behind the aviators perched on the bridge of his nose, angling his face so that unless you came ridiculously close to him, you would have assumed he was staring at the car, rather than the hot blonde talking to his engineer not fifteen metres from where Pete was leaning against the fencing.

Yeah, maybe this could be a problem.

His heart stuttered in his chest when Kazansky flicked his gaze over to him. Pete quickly coughed and looked down at the ground, pretending to adjust his fireproofs and praying to a God he didn’t believe in that the flush on his cheeks looked like sunburn. He looked back up slowly, only to find the Iceman still looking at him. His eyes flicked around Pete’s entire body, face shifting into a knowing expression.

Then Tom smiled, and Torro Rosso were gonna have to find another reserve driver because Pete Mitchell had been reduced to a puddle on the floor.

this fic isn’t gonna entirely focus around icemav, with pete’s friendship/teammate relationship with goose also being a centre point! (but what’s a top gun fic without a little tom x pete, eh?) thank you for reading!

[janesurlife]

He was soft launching but we didn't notice

If I had a nickel every time Carlos Sainz Jr photographed his teammate sleeping and posted it online, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[j0shm0]

With the first Sprint race of the year and China returning to the calendar it's time to give a look at the Race Lap Analysis. Little different this Grand Prix compared to the others as there was not a 2023 race to compare Logan or Oscar against however, it is interesting and fun to compare them against their teammates still since last time they raced in China they were the rookies.

Some key takeaways we can see from the data is that in 2019 the cars were at base going about 2 seconds a lap faster across the board. In 2019 Alex was driving for Torro Rosso, had a big shunt in FP3, which lead to a pitlane start but ultimately finished 10th and Lando was starting his McLaren career and qualified 14th but took on serious damage in turn 1 lap 1 ultimately having him retire in lap 53.

This year in 2024 the rain/colder conditions suit that McLaren as always and Lando pulled it to 2nd and Oscar another 8th place finish doing well to stay in the points. With the Williams boys keeping it clean this weekend battling at the top of the back half but ultimately finishing in the middle as they do.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Something that I think is quiet interesting is the future of RedBull. It has always seemed obvious that around 2026-ish Max was likely to leave F1 for a while, maybe eben forever to pursue other racing series. And I don't want to talk about that but rather what that means for the team itself (as a big RB hater simply because I dislike most people affiliated with the team.)

RedBull is very obviously not waiting for a talent like Seb or Max to come up through their own academy again otherwise they wouldn't have renewed Perez and would have already given Lawson a shot. Most of the RB juniors are in F2/F3 and have decent to good results but clearly nothing that fits this Golden Boy track both Max and Seb had to a degree.

So that begs the question who will be their lead driver? Again, RB just acts like a first and second driver team. Seb established himself. Then he left where we had a weird time that it sort of flopped around but the closest was probably Daniel who was always likely to be replaced as soon as Max came into his own form and the sport for that matter.

The structure of the team has pretty much since 2009 been that there is a lead driver and a second driver. You can argue this developed alongside RedBull becoming a top team with Seb for example just simply estaishing himself etc. But it's undeniable that it works for them and I don't see why they would stray from that concept.

Red Bull has always gunned for the younger promising drivers. Be it Seb for the time he was there or now Max. Not to mention the dozen of Torro Rosso drivers who were good but not quiet enough who are now flourishing in their own racing series.

So, considering they clearly are not aiming for someone within their own programm, who is their future plan when Max decides to leave? The most obvious answer of course and the most likely one is that they will look at the grid and clearly aim for one of the best, youngest drivers. There is a huge promise with RB if a driver of that position comes in because he is in some way essentially guaranteed the number 1 seat in that team.

The most interesting and intriguing question here is who would fit into their role. Now, granted I am only working with this year's and next years potential grid but I think it's guaranteed that before 2027 there will not be another major talent coming into F1 that hasn't already been talked about/hinted at this year.

That leaves a narrowed down list actually of vets few drivers most of who in my opinion can already be excluded.

Charles is clearly in the Ferrari long game. I would not be surprised if he retires with them and will never change teams.

George and Kimi are clearly the duo for Mercedes for the next say 5 years? George has always been Mercedes plan for after Lewis and regardless what happens, I think it's obvious that sooner or later Antonelli will end up at Mercedes partnering George.

Now before I come to the actual two people who I believe it will narrow down to, I will just quickly explain why I won't even bother talking about anybody else. Drivers like Sainz or Esteban sadly fall into that same category as Drivers like Hulkenberg or Ricciardo. They are good but they are stuck in between the past generational talents (Seb, Lewis and Britney) and the future (Charles, Max, George etc.) They fall in between and will therefore only ever really be back up Drivers since the big teams are focused on their talent that went through their academy, training etc.

Now, who I think the actual future battle for the lead in RedBull once Max decides to leave comes down to, is the McLaren drivers.

Sooner or later (most likely after next season, potentially already after this on) McLaren will have to decide who they are going with for their future. They will have to prioritize one driver. You can't just have two drivers like Lando and Oscar who both show so much promise, on equal grounds because sooner or later you will be confronted with having to prioritize one over the other or one will maybe establish himself more when it counts which then brings the question of "Does this mean we will now make him the leader?"

With Norris current behavior it is obvious he is gunning for a fight with Max while Oscar is still adapting to the car as well as driving in F1 (It is only his second season.) Once Oscar adapts and if this form of McLaren continues, next year will poss a big question which is "Should Oscar get the hang of the car and get up there with Lando, who is the main guy that will be fighting among Max?" I am sure that McLaren would first let them just drive, wait for their results etc.

But again, the point where they have to decide "Who is our main guy?" will come and the other driver who loses out in that will still so clearly be a contender for a top seat. Should Max leave within the next 5 years, I truly believe that RedBull would get whoever loses out in that battle and put them along Max for a season or 2 before they become the main driver.

I personally believe 100% that Norris is McLaren through and through (in the worst way possible because I am still a hater.) Since he arrived in 2019, McLaren has felt to me like his team, a team built around him especially with his close connection to Zak Brown.

Which to me means one thing and offers one of the most exciting possibilities to the future (I might just stop hating RB for him): Oscar taking over as the RB golden child. While RB have made their interest in Norris quiet clear for years now, I always assumed that McLaren would be Norris team. Not for a second have I ever thought that would change or is in question.

So the most likely scenario to me for the next 5 years is the Duo of Max and Oscar at RedBull and Oscar taking over as the lead driver there once Max decides to try endurance racing.