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starlightdelrey · 7 months ago

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the view between villages

platonic ! f1 grid x reader

summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.

cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,

song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan

(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.

"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."

the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.

she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.

"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.

"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.

"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.

---

"lights out.... and away we go!"

the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.

she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.

"i keep locking up."

her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.

"copy."

finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.

"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."

"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.

---

the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.

somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.

the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"

"yeah... turn up the volume?"

the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.

"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.

"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.

"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."

she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.

across the world, houses go silent.

---

"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."

the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.

"y/n, are you okay?"

silence.

"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."

no response.

the commentators continue.

"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."

---

his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.

"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.

"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.

"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"

"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."

"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"

"no word yet. sorry, logan."

"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."

"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"

"sure."

he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.

there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.

he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.

---

inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.

her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.

in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.

"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.

she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.

she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.

she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.

the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.

---

inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.

---

"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."

verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.

"what's happened?"

"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.

"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"

"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."

he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.

"tell me if you find anything out."

"copy."

as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.

"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.

he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.

he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.

---

a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.

"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.

and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.

and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.

she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.

---

the commentators are no longer focused on the race.

"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"

---

charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.

he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.

this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.

the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.

"we've got an update on y/n."

he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."

"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.

---

muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.

the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.

people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.

she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.

she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.

y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.

---

"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."

the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.

"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"

---

"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.

"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."

"how do you feel about her new nickname?"

"nickname?"

"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."

lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."

"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.

---

a few months later:

over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.

she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.

"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.

roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.

"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."

lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."

y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.

he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."

"fuck off."

--- la fin ---

#formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #f1 angst #formula one angst #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #logan sargeant x reader #max versappen x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one oneshot #starlightdelrey

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aaron04jpg · 2 months ago

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Indycar crash course

(For this all I’m just going to use 2024 as an example)

I hope this is helpful feel free to ask any questions!!

1. Teams/drivers

* There is no limit on how few or many drivers can race for a single team.

* Most teams have 3 cars but some have as low as 2 and others have as high as 5

* Drivers don’t have numbers, the cars/teams do (ex: David is car #66 but will change to #41 when he changes to Aj Foyt racing)

* Additional Teams/drivers will come in for the Indy 500

2. Circuits

* circuit types – from road and street circuits to short ovals (one mile or less) and long ovals, often referred to as superspeedways.

* From what I have seen most Indycar drivers like/prefer ovals

3. Chassis and engines

* Dallara is the exclusive chassis supplier for INDYCAR. The chassis is made of carbon fibre, Kevlar and other composites, and weighs approximately 770 kg.

* Chevrolet and Honda are the two engine manufactures in the series and supply competitors

4. Tyres

* Like Formula 1, INDYCAR has a sole tyre supplier. But instead of Pirelli rubber, INDYCAR uses Firestone.

* Firestone provides three types of tyres for road and street courses, and one for ovals. On road and street courses, there is the ‘primary’ black tyre. The ‘alternate’ red tyre is a softer compound that allows for higher speeds but wears faster. A grey sidewall tyre is used in wet weather conditions.

* On ovals, only the ‘primary’ black tyre is used and if the rain falls at this type of circuit, Indy cars will not take to the track.

5. Aeroscreen

* In Formula 1, the teams have the halo. In INDYCAR, the aeroscreen is a ballistic, canopy-like windscreen anchored by titanium framework surrounding the cockpit.

6. Race weekend format

* The format of race weekends changes from race to race, however the most common is that Friday consists of two practice sessions – one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

* On Saturday, there is a morning practice session followed by qualifying in the afternoon.

* Sunday is race day and it begins with a warm-up session at road and street courses. However, on oval circuits there is no warm-up session.

7. Pit Stops

* Unlike Formula 1 where 16 team members assist during a pit-stop, just seven members of each INDYCAR team are permitted go ‘over the wall’ to execute a pit-stop.

* Team members include: four tyre changers, a fueler, a person responsible for the air jack (to raise the car to change the tyres) and an aeroscreen assistant to clean or pull a ‘tear-off’ from screen to help the driver’s vision.

* Each crew member is required wear a firesuit and helmet for protection.

* Indy cars refuel at each stop and drivers pit depending on the length of the track. In the 10 seconds it takes to fuel the car, all four tyres are changed.

8. Point scoring

* Points are awarded for all finishing positions in INDYCAR.

* First – 50 points, second – 40, third – 35, fourth – 32, fifth – 30, sixth – 28, and so on, going down to just five points for the lowest finishing position in the field.

* Bonus points are awarded for: pole position – 1 point, leading at least one race lap – 1 point, and most race laps led – 2 points.

* For the Indianapolis 500 and the final race of the season, points are doubled in those races.

TEAMS (as of end 2024 season)

1. AJ Foyt Racing

* 14 Santino Ferrucci

* 41 Sting Ray Robb

2. Andretti Global

* 26 Colton Herta

* 27 Kyle Kirkwood (logan’s friend !!)

* 28 Marcus Ericsson

3. Arrow McLaren

* 5 Pato O’Ward (McLaren reserve driver)

* 7 Alex Rossi

* 6 Nolan Siegel

4. Chip Ganassi Racing

* 8 Linus Lundqvist

* 9 Scott Dixon

* 10 Álex Paluo Montalbo

* 4 Kyffin Simpson

5. Dale Coyne Racing

* 51 Katherine Legge

* 18 Jack Harvey

6. Ed Carpenter Racing

* 20 Christian Rasmussen

* 20 Ed Carpenter (ovals only)

* 21 Rinus Veekay

7. Juncos Hollinger Racing

* 77 Romain Grosjean

* 78 Conor Daly

8. Meyer Shank Racing

* 66 David Malukas

* 60 Felix Rosenqvist

9. Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing

* 15 Graham Rahal

* 45 Christian Lundgaard

* 30 Pietro Fittipaldi

10. Team Penske

* 2 Josef Newgarden

* 3 Scott McLaughlin (twt icon)

#indycar #indy 500 #f1 #formula 1 #logan sargeant #ls2 #david malukas #pato o'ward #kyle kirkwood #josef newgarden #arrow mclaren #mclaren

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katsu28 · 4 months ago

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Kissing away their tears with lando, please and thank you!!🫶🏻

anything for you rachel my love <3 ily!

lando norris x reader, 1.6k, there's a crash but no descriptions of injury. request something from here!

“Norris is doing really well today, isn’t he?”

You’re not sure whose mouth the words come out of, but your head whips in their general direction, as do the rest of folks in the VIP box. Variations of “Shut the fuck up!” echo around the room, people grumbling to each other about those who obviously don’t know one of the biggest unspoken rules in sports.

Whenever a player, or in this case, a driver, happens to be doing well in a match (or race), you never, ever mention that they are. You can think it, you can say it in your head, but you don’t ever say it out loud. When those words make it out into the open air, bad things happen.

Call it stupid, call it superstition, but it’s a known sentiment in sports—Formula One especially. It’s like eating the same breakfast or listening to the same song before every race, or wearing a certain item of clothing every race day because you believe it brings you luck.

Does it actually bring you luck? Maybe, maybe not, but you do it anyway because of the possibility that it could.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut with a prayer to whatever higher power out there is listening.

Please, please, please don’t let anything fuck up Lando’s race.

Your prayer is futile.

You hear it before you see it on the TV—a loud crash. Tires skidding over asphalt with a deafening screech, metal grinding on metal, carbon fiber snapping off chassis and skidding across the track.

Instantly, you know there’s been a collision. Your heart leaps into your throat at the single thought that screams its way through your mind like an emergency alarm.

Was it Lando?

A hush falls over the track, and suddenly the only thing you can hear is the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears.

On the screen flashes an aerial shot of what you assume is the scene of the crash, but you can’t see much through the smoke and dust. The vague misshapen lump of a mangled car, a wheel rolling away from the wreckage, then—

Your heart drops out of your ass.

The car is bright orange. And as the cloud of dust gets blown away by the strong wind on track, your eyes zero in on the unmistakable fluoro green of Lando’s helmet.

He’s not moving.

No, no, no, no.

Your body is in the move before your brain even realizes you’re running, sprinting through the hall, down the stairs that would take you to the McLaren garage. You’re dodging people, you’re dodging equipment and carts and everything of the sort like a pro. All the while, you feel like you can’t breathe because you don’t know if your boyfriend is okay. You don’t even know if he’s alive.

That’s what scares you the most.

You’re stopped by track security before you can enter through to the garage. You show the guard your pass, but he still keeps you there, muttering something into a walkie talkie that you don’t understand.

“Come on, mate! Do you see what it says? Let me through, please!” You plead, near tears at this point.

The frantic part of you wants to push right past this knob and find Lando yourself, but you know the only good that’ll do is get yourself thrown out, and that’s the last thing you need right now. Your best option is to play nice, despite all the worst thoughts running rampant in your mind.

The guard takes what seems like a lifetime to look over your pass, glances up at you, then back down to the pass, but steps aside eventually, waving you into the bustling garage. You force yourself to calm down a smidge, not wanting to disturb any part of Oscar’s race.

From there, it’s not hard to find Lando’s race engineer. Will looks less worried than you, even as he paces back and forth with his headphones still on.

“Will!” You blurt, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the tall man. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“There you are! I sent someone up to the box to fetch you ages ago. Lando’s at the medical center now, he’s conscious, coherent,” Will says. You let out a sigh of barely there relief. At least he’s alive. “He was asking for you. Reckon you’ll be able to see him after the medics check him out, if you want to go wait there.”

“Yes. Yeah, yes, thank you, Will,” You breathe, wrangling him in a quick hug before making a mad dash back through the halls towards the medical station.

You’re panting when you get there, fully aware you probably look mental to any sane person, but you don’t care. All you care about is getting to Lando. “Hi, where’s Lando Norris? McLaren driver, number 4, was brought in after the crash at turn ten?”

The friendly looking woman at the front table smiles sympathetically. “You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? He told us you’d be worried. Wanted us to make sure someone found you.”

“I am, yeah. Is he—can I see him?”

“Sorry, dear. The medic team is still doing their tests and all that. Best let them be for now, but I’ll tell you what.” She leans in like she’s about to divulge some big secret. “I’ll let Lando know you’re here. Technically, I’m not supposed to, but you both seem like you could use a little break.”

“Thank you,” You say shakily, inhaling a wavering breath. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course, dear. You just sit tight over here, alright?”

That’s exactly what you do. You sit in the metal folding chair and you wait.

Nearly an hour passes and you’re still no closer to seeing Lando than you already were. The race is nearing its end, and you don’t want to bother the nice lady who’d already bent the rules for you once, but you’re almost at your wits end.

You’ve got your head in your hands when you hear your name called. It’s the lady again, telling you you’re able to go see Lando now. You're not sure what to expect when you make your way into the station, but you've gone through so many possibilities in your head you feel like you've adequately prepared yourself for almost anything.

Lando is sitting on the edge of the gurney when you walk into the room, legs swinging aimlessly as he secures his watch around his wrist.

He’s okay. He’s sweaty and covered in dust and dirt and looks like hell, but he’s okay.

You’re not sure why that realization, the one you’ve been waiting for this whole time, is the final crack in the dam. Lando’s eyes snap to you at the same time you rush forward, jumping off the bed with a tiny grimace and crossing the cramped room to bring you against his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” He soothes, holding your sobbing frame tight. You’ve got two fists twisted into the lapels of his racing suit, clutching at it like you're afraid he’ll slip right through your fingers. “I’m alright, love. I’m fine, I promise.”

“I heard you—I saw—” You can’t even get the words out through the tears streaming freely down your face.

“I know. Fuck, I know, I’m so sorry.”

You feel his lips press against your tear soaked cheeks, kissing all over your face until your breathing levels out. Even when you do stop hyperventilating, Lando continues to litter gentle pecks all around, finally stopping with one long, lingering kiss to your forehead.

You’re finally able to release your death grip on the front of his suit, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles as if it wasn’t already completely a mess.

On instinct, one of your hands slides over his fireproofs, splaying over his chest right where his heart is. It beats strongly under your palm, if not a little faster when you look him in the eyes. It helps, but it does little to get rid of the knotted ball of fear that’s been sitting right on your chest this entire time. But hey, at least you’re not crying anymore.

“There’s my girl,” He hums, swiping the pad of his thumb under your eyes gently to rid you of any stray tear tracks. His free hand comes to blanket yours where it remains on his chest, fingers curing over your own. “Hi there. Are you alright?”

“Fuck me, I’m a mess,” You say, sniffling. “I should be the one checking on you and here I am crying like a baby. How are you? Are you hurt, what did the medics say?” You size him up for any outward injuries, patting around his suit gently. Your hand presses against his torso and he winces a little bit at the sudden pressure, but tuts at the wide eyed look you give him.

“I’m fine, darling. Few bruised ribs and bumps from impact but otherwise a clean bill of health. Don’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank god,” You sigh, slumping forward against his chest in relief. “That was so fucking scary.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. His nose presses into your hair, inhaling as deep as he can without pain twinging in his sides. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head firmly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

“How’s the car?”

Lando grimaces, shaking his head. “Totaled. Not great.”

“Is Zak mad?”

“He’s definitely not happy, but I reckon he’s more relieved I’m okay.”

“That makes two of us.” You hug him again, careful of his bruised ribs. “I would’ve hit him with your front wing if he was more worried about the damn car.”

Lando lets out a snort of high pitched laughter, though it does sound a little nervous. He knows you're serious. “Babe, you can’t just whack my boss with a broken off piece of the car.”

“Would you stop me?”

“I’d feel obligated to or else I might be fired.”

“But would you?”

“Let’s just put a pin in that for now.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#requested!#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris one shot

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leclarifies · 27 days ago

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off the grid - I

✰ max verstappen x !driver reader ✰

summary: you strived for nothing but perfection. nothing less was expected from you. being a female formula one driver made it even harder for you to make mistakes. you figured that dating max, your biggest rival yet, wasn't a mistake...right...?

genre: kinda slow-burn? mostly angst, eventual fluff at the end.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: hello! this will be a mini series that i will be working on, so this work is currently on-going! all parts will be uploaded in the masterlist <3 thank u so much for reading

NEXT PART MASTERLIST ✰ ASK ME ANYTHING ✰ REQUEST A FIC!

ROOKIE YEAR ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“motherfucker,” you cussed under your breath when you’re sent into the barrier because of a certain someone who couldn’t stay on their side of the track when you’re flying on a qualifying lap. you huffed as you shook your head, your race engineer spoke in your ear.

you had to swerve left in order to avoid a certain red bull on the track, making you lose control of the car and crash into the barriers. “are you alright?” anthony sounded out, he sounded worried but you grunt a response as you try to get out of the chassis of your car, he took that as confirmation that you were alright, “the marshalls are coming, just sit tight.”

“it’s fucking ridiculous when i’m having my best lap and this inconsiderate motherfucker can’t even stay in his lane,” you had screamed into the radio, “is it because i am a woman? it’s because i’m a woman is it??”

the question was a sarcastic rhetorical one of course. you didn’t mean it, it came out out of anger. anthony tried his best to calm you down as the marshalls rushed to get you and your car off the track. even though you were in the gravel, the stewards had issued a red flag.

it’s not long until you return into the garage, harshly taking off your helmet and race gloves but gently handing them off to staff, “it is not because you are a woman, y/n. he made a mistake and you need to calm down,” anthony had greeted you upon your return into the garage.

“like is my big red car not apparent enough in his rear views?” y/n rubbed her temples as soon as her helmet was off her head, “for god’s sake, i’m the rookie! why is he in the middle of the track when i’m on a hot lap? it doesn’t fucking make sense.” “you’re fine–” “i’m sorry anthony, but it’s not fine! at best, i am p10, does that look like the best i can do to you?” you had been led to sit down in one of the seats at the back of your garage, but anthony shook his head. “i know you can do better but it’s your first year and second race, you need to be nicer to yourself. you are not going to get anywhere in formula one if you do not calm down, y/n,” anthony brings a reality check as you look up at him, still clearly angry, “you can be angry, you can throw a fit but all you can do right now is to be realistic.” “you have been given such a great opportunity by ferrari, they rarely pick up rookies and when they do, the rookie has a lot of expectations laid on them. i understand that puts a lot of stress on you to perform well,” anthony pats your shoulder, trying his best to calm your emotions and nerves.

he knew you were nervous, it was your first year and your first crash in formula one. the media wasn’t kind to you and he knew that, he’s been there since day one and he knew how harsh you could be to yourself. “i’m fine, i’m sorry for yelling at you. it was misplaced anger,” you buried your face in your palms, you could even hear the casters’ voices in your head. commenting on your crash. unknowingly for you, this would be the start of a rivalry between you and the one and only max verstappen.

“he said what???”

you were basically bursting with anger, no way in hell max fucking verstappen just blamed you for the crash. all the media training over the years out the window, you were fuming. ironically, all you could see was red.

you replayed the video being displayed on the ipad presented to you by your pr manager.

“she is a rookie and this is her first year in f1, so i wouldn’t expect anything less. she should know better and avoid the people on an out lap on the right of the track, it’s common knowledge. she will gain more experience as she goes through the races this season.”

"oh i’m going to pick a fight and it’s not going to be pretty,” you were about to march up towards him before being tugged by the ferrari sweater you were wearing by anthony.

“y/n. no.”

“he’s on an out lap! couldn’t he be more careful?” frustrations coursed through your veins like molten lava, “like if i made that mistake, it would’ve been understandable. i’m the rookie here, but him? he has eight years under his belt and he decides to blame it on me???”

"okay enough. you have interviews to get through today. you cannot be this riled up,” jessica, your pr manager had advised, “be professional in front of the cameras, ferrari wants nothing but perfection from you in the interviews. no snarky jabs, no shade, you got that?” “yes ma’am..." was the only thing muttered out of your mouth as you got ushered into the media pen.

“so what happened today, y/n? there was a small accident on the track while qualifying,” a reporter asked while he shoved a mic in your face, you wanted to yell at the man. like was he blind? did he not see the shitty quali you had? “unfortunately for me, i had to swerve out of the way because max didn’t keep enough to the right. but it’s alright. starting out p10 for me isn’t bad, considering i am a rookie. i’ve been given a gigantic opportunity from ferrari and i plan to make the most of it, even if i didn’t get the best results from today’s quali,” the words rolled smooth off your tongue but you really wanted to punch someone, preferably the driver with the number 1 on his car.

“starting out p10 is actually quite good despite the circumstances, people were surprised that you managed to reach q3. was this something your team had predicted?”

“my team had told me i could’ve reached a higher position. today was just unfortunate. i’ll try to prove that i deserve this seat in the race tomorrow,” another perfectly crafted pr response left your lips but it didn’t reflect how angry you were from today.

a few hundred interviews later and you were free for the day. honestly, it was hell.

you just wanted to come up to verstappen and punch him square in the nose but you know that your anger wasn’t what you needed in your first season of f1, so you let it go for now.

later on in the day as people were trying to pack up and rest up for the night, you were too. today was exhausting, both emotionally and physically. you were about to head home but caught a glimpse of max and his girlfriend, kelly piquet seemingly… fighting?

you didn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole, so you went and got settled into the hotel for the night. the hotel was nice, courtesy of ferrari of course. all of the drivers were settled into one hotel and it was inevitable that you would run into the others in the morning later on but that was a problem future-you had to deal with tomorrow.

your social battery was dead, social interactions were not something you were looking forward to and just your luck as you entered the elevator, your teammate approached you, looking to have a small chat before retiring into his room as well.

even though your social battery was dead, you couldn't help but interact with charles. he was always nice to you, giving you guidance where you needed it and encouragement when he felt as if you were being too harsh on yourself.

he's been there too.

“hey, i heard what happened at quali today. you alright?” charles shot you a small smile, he was always polite and friendly with you. you didn’t have a reason to dislike him. he was a pleasant teammate on the track as well.

“hey charles, yeah. i had a little mishap with verstappen but it’s fine,” you shrugged and laughed almost bitterly, thinking back about the crash but charles pat your shoulder, almost seemingly giving you comfort.

“look, you’re still in your first year of f1. crashes happen, even to seasoned drivers. you’ll do fine. you even pulled through to q3 and most rookies aren’t able to do that. the team is extremely proud of you,” charles was kind enough to give you words of encouragement.

maybe it was the stress of today, or maybe it was just you being emotional but you starting tearing up. charles obviously saw your tears and started panicking. “oh my gosh, i’m sorry. did i say something wrong?” charles asked as he tried to console you, but you shook your head and laughed through your tears.

“i’m just stressed with the day, your words really helped charles. thank you,” you swatted his arms away in a friendly way, not wanting him to worry about you.

the elevator dinged, signalling that it was there to come and pick you guys up and take you guys to your respective floors.

in a blink of an eye, it was race day and you were behind the wheel once again. “radio check,” anthony sounded out in your ears.

“loud and clear,” your muffled voice responded back behind the balaclava and helmet. you were ready to prove the media wrong this race. you deserved to be here, you fought tooth and nail to become one of the first few female drivers in formula one and you weren’t going to let it go now.

all you have to do is get in the zone, you told yourself.

taking a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second before opening them back up. ready for whatever this race threw at you today.

somehow, by some type of miracle, max had dnfed. rumors were circling around the paddock that max retired not due to engine failure but was not in the right mind to race.

you thought back about the fight you witnessed only yesterday but put it to the back of your mind for now. it was none of your business.

the dnf gave you much leeway for overtakes but you were just a rookie afterall. starting out p10 and only making it to p6. you had so many overtake opportunities but fumbled it because you doubted yourself. “nicely done today, that’s p6,” anthony’s voice rung in your ear to ground you. you were on autopilot, driving the car where it was supposed to go after the cool down lap.

your teammate had won flawlessly, taking p1 with lando norris and oscar piastri taking second and third respectively. you were proud of him but it hurt not to be able to overtake the mclarens while you were racing today.

“you alright, y/n?” anthony’s voice sounded out in your ear piece again, you sighed as you parked your car in the pitlane. “i could’ve done better,” you muttered out as the mechanics tended to you and your car, getting out of the car swiftly before walking into the garage to meet anthony. you took off your helmet and balaclava, the sweat dripping from your forehead. “you need to stop being so harsh on yourself, y/n,” anthony pat your back, “considering your starting position, you had near flawless overtakes. just be more confident on the track and trust your gut. don’t doubt yourself. i know you can do better.”

“i need to be better anthony, i have to,” you released your hair from the tight ponytail you had it in, “have you seen what twitter looks like lately? yeah it’s a dumpster fire from the silly crash i had yesterday. i can’t have it happening again.”

you were always tough on yourself, strived for nothing but perfection. the grid deserved perfection from you and that’s exactly what you intend on delivering. every race after the australian grand prix was almost flawless– aside from a few engine problems you had along the way. everything was fine.

your chemistry with charles on the track was starting to bloom, understanding when it was time to put the constructor's cup first before the driver's championship. charles always made a point to remind you not to be too hard on yourself.

you were a driver that was nit-picky. every small detail wrong with the car would always go through to anthony which would be relayed to the mechanics.

sometimes you wondered if they hated you for it.

it wasn’t something you were interested in finding out now.

"you do know that us having this yoga session is a chance for us to relax, right?" charles glanced over at you, you were tense. all over.

you were lost in thought, barely paying attention to what you were doing now, only charles' voice snapping you out of your train of thought.

you took a deep breath and looked at charles, "sorry, lots of thoughts going through this tiny little brain of mine," you gave a sheepish smile to charles. you had not been focused on whatever the team was doing at the team bonding yoga session.

the instructor had told you all to take a break after the session.

"you alright? you've been so spaced out recently, it's kinda worrying," charles had said to you but you shrugged it off, you tried to play it casually. not wanting to let anyone know how much you were struggling internally with your own thoughts.

he wasn't wrong, you had a lot of self-deprecating thoughts but nothing you couldn't get by.

"i'm–... i'm fine," you tried to breathe out as you got up from your previous position, "just thinking about the triple header next week. just nerves."

"nerves?" charles asked, almost as if it was a ridiculous idea, you cocked your head at him, confused, "we've been racing for almost a year y/n, i know when it's nerves and i know when it's not."

"i'm fine charles, just let it go," your voice softened at his concern, "it's seriously just the nerves. we're fighting head to head with red bull and mclaren, i'm just scared i'll fuck it up somehow."

it wasn't far from the truth, but charles being third and you being fourth in the standings wasn't easing whatever self-deprecating thoughts there were in your head.

"the constructor's cup is still achievable," charles pat your back as he got up as well, "we got this, okay? just trust yourself."

you kept his encouraging words in mind. he knew how hard it was to be a rookie in f1, you were always thankful for his guidance.

your relationship with max hadn't gotten better, sometimes even butting heads with eachother in races. in he beginning, he always got the better of you, not used to the type of aggressiveness that he possessed while on the track.

as the season went on though, you adapted fast. understanding that you could use max's aggression against himself.

the triple header was coming fast and you didn't know if you were ready or not.

"welcome to the interlagos circuit!"

the casters were lively and bustling with energy and you were definitely not in the right headspace, fighting on the track seemed difficult for you and you had a bad habit of getting in your own head.

but your hands were on the wheel and the red lights were about to go off, you had no time to think about anything else but the track and battles you were going to face.

you had started second row, third place. with charles taking pole and max taking second. you knew it was going to be difficult but lights out and away you go!

the first few laps, you had held your position. working together with your teammate, charles to try and gain a position but max was being max and it was hard to overtake. he was good at defense, like he said, the best defense is a good offense. his aggression wasn't something you weren't used to.

"stick to plan b, y/n," anthony reminded you, you grunted a response as you tried to hold off norris behind you. you hadn't pitted yet, and the tyre deg was getting worse by each lap you stretched them out.

"time to box!" anthony's voice came on the radio once again and you followed his orders, losing two positions but you knew this was part of the strategy.

with fresh new mediums, you had overtaken russell. now norris was in front of you, but you had the advantage of fresher tyres that were now just heating up.

it wasn't long before you overtook norris and gained your original position.

"how is charles holding up? when he is going to box?" you asked through the radio, it took a second for anthony to respond.

"he should be pitting next lap," anthony confirmed and there you were. you were in the zone. you focused hard, eventually overtaking max and you were p1. this was the highest position you ever held in a race, but you knew it wasn't going to last long if max was going to pit.

as the drivers pit onto fresher tyres. you started to struggle, but you held your place well. charles was p3 and it was back to trying to hold off max as much as possible without losing any positions to the other drivers.

the feeling of finally being a race leader was exhilarating. it felt good and you wanted to win. lap after lap flew by and you were keeping your position well, the tyre deg was starting to get to you. the grip wasn't the best but you put up with it.

max was keeping his aggression, trying to overtake at every turn, trying to use a slipstream with drs activated to take your position, but you clawed your way here. you weren't going to let some guy who ruined your first few races as a rookie take it away from you. you defended him like a champ you didn't know where you got the sudden skills for but you weren't going to guess now, using the help of pressure from charles to maintain your position.

if you kept this up then the win was secured.

you were nearing the end of the race, the high of the adrenaline was coming to an end. you were so near your first win, you could smell it but of course the thoughts from before the race had creeped up unbeknownst to you, at the worst possible timing too.

anthony's voice had sounded out in the radio, "keep it up, y/n. bring it home."

you don't really deserve the opportunity ferrari gave you, all you're going to do is fuck it up and ruin it for yourself.

give up. there's no way you can hold max off for long.

the constructor's cup is on the line, time's ticking.

you didn't know how it happened, the next thing you knew was the wind knocking out of your lungs.

your head was spinning, you didn't know what happened or what just hit you.

"y/n, are you alright? talk to me," anthony's voice sounded worried although muffled, your ears were ringing. you couldn't bring yourself to respond, "y/n?"

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

i told you. you don't deserve the red car.

you don't remember what happened next, you figured that you blacked out. you came to your senses when your eyes fluttered open in the medical center, the bright lights were blinding and god, your head was hurting like a little bitch.

you groaned out and that alerted the other people in the room, anthony, jessica, and verstappen??

"y/n, you're awake. you gave all of us a scare at the garage," anthony shot you a sympathetic smile, you knew that look all too well. you crashed.

you quickly sat up and buried your face into your palms, "i fucked up, didn't i? i fucked up the constructor's cup..." the tears were free flowing now. rolling down your cheeks and you were sobbing into your hands.

"i had it anthony, i was the fucking race leader and–" you choked back a sob as a soft hand landed on your shoulder, you didn't look up to see who it was. too ashamed to show your face.

"it was my fault."

that was unmistakably verstappen's voice but you didn't care at the moment.

the nagging voice from the back of your head returned.

you disgraced the entire female racing community with that performance.

and that's when you finally snapped.

"y/n–"

"i really don't want to talk to you right now max," you had just reviewed footage from the crash, you noticed that max had gone over-aggressive and bumped your rear tyre, making you spin out and crash into the barrier.

it was a high speed crash and the doctors told you that you were lucky you came out of that with a concussion and nothing more serious.

"please, can i at least apologize?" max tried to reason with you as you collected your belongings. the sunset was casting pretty over the track but you've started to resent interlagos.

“i think you’ve done enough max!” you turned around dropping all of your belongings to the ground, your face was angry— red from all the crying you’ve done. he had tried to console you in the medical center but you were unresponsive and wanted to be left alone, so everyone left and you were just there, sobbing your heart out at the loss of your maiden win.

“listen, i appreciate the fucking gesture but if you really want me to feel better right now, turn back time and maybe not rear end me, asshole!” you were really angry and was lashing out, max had his arms shielding himself as you tore him a new one, “you know that our relationship as co-workers is not the best right now and guess what you fucking do, you selfish prick? you fucking rear end me because you just can’t see me win!”

“it’s not like that–” max tried to reason but he knew you were inconsolable and unstable at the moment, he understood and he let you rip him a new one. he understood the pressure of being a rookie, the first female one no less.

“you’re a fucking asshole,” sobs started coming out of your lips, you started hitting him but not hard to do any real damage, his hands still up to try and shield himself but you fell apart and he caught you in his arms.

“i know, and i’m sorry. it was a mistake on my end, and i would turn back time if i could,” max mumbled as he embraced you, hugging you tight because he knew you needed it.

you sobbed into his embrace because you didn’t know where else to find it from, “i fucking hate you– you’ve made my rookie year hell,” the hands that were hitting him were now limp next to herself.

“i’m sorry,” max whispered softly as he stroked her hair, he continued to apologise the only way he knew how and that was to offer her comfort in her time of anger and sadness. he held her tight, not letting go because that’s the only way he knew how.

in some twisted way, she did feel comforted.

max had led you inside of the ferrari motorhome, setting himself on the sofa and still embracing you, stroking your hair and whispering apologies.

soon after, you felt exhausted and you didn’t want to move— you didn't have the energy to move. you felt emotionally and physically drained from today’s activities and the last thing on your mind was how you were laid basically on top of your biggest rival.

you fell asleep on top of max verstappen that night, and he didn’t want to move even when ferrari staff accidentally came inside of the motorhome to check on you.

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