#kart racing coaching

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[haikyu-mp4]

it’s a rainy day at summer camp. one of the few evenings that greeted you with bad weather instead of the setting sun, and the result was Fukurodani’s volleyball team gathered around a small tv and taking turns in a Mario Kart tournament.

you walked into the room with an order from the coach to tell everyone to quiet down, and was intrigued by the choice of game and their lack of talent in it. “you guys suck.”

everyone who wasn't playing at the moment turned abruptly, some squinting suspiciously and some laughing. “think you could do better?”

and so you were thrown into the tournament, and oh boy did you knock them off their pedestals. they didn’t stand a chance.

it earned you almost everyone’s desserts from dinner the day after, and you happily munched on pudding cup after pudding cup while they pouted about it. you shared plenty of them with the other girls as well, and you all enjoyed their defeat thoroughly.

fast forward one year later, Bokuto has made friends with Nekoma’s captain, making Fukurodani and Nekoma closer than they were with the other teams.

when Bokuto is particularly annoyed with Kuroo’s taunting after he missed some spikes in a practice game, he challenges him to a round of Mario Kart after dinner. Fukurodani vs Nekoma, choose your fighter style.

Kuroo walks into Fukurodani’s room that evening, carrying Kenma along while the setter is still playing on his console and not even paying attention. the captain looks smug, confident in his best friend’s ability to win. until he sees Bokuto standing with his arms crossed and shielding their chosen fighter.

a couple of the others from Nekoma’s team had joined, curious as to why Bokuto would challenge them in video games when he knew Kenma was there. “why do you look so smug?” Kuroo asks suspiciously.

“because we brought our secret weapon,” he answered, dramatically moving to the side and gesturing towards you. you sat patiently on a pillow, waving at the other team and smiling brightly.

“hi, guys!”

Kuroo laughed, letting go of Kenma and waving back at you. “y/n, fancy seeing you here.”

Bokuto rudely pressed his hand into Kuroo’s face. “none of that, don’t distract our player before the match!”

and while they fought, Kenma sat down beside you, finally turning off his console as you held out the other controller for him. “making me second player, hm?” you laughed at his remark, nodding.

“home base is always first player,” you teased. Konoha patted you on the back and smirked at Kenma.

“you don’t stand a chance.”

he did stand a chance. it was a close race, and you must admit you broke a sweat using every little trick you could think of.

however, it was just a chance. one he didn’t master, and you ended up with a clear victory after a mystery box gifted you with three glorious red shells on the second round, ruining any head start he might have gained.

the whole of Fukurodani’s team got up and cheered, many shaking your shoulders or ruffling your hair to praise your efforts. you looked to the side, ready to taunt Kenma a bit, but he was already staring at you. his catlike eyes made you flustered, and you quickly looked away. “I’m going to bed. good game, Kenma!”

Kenma watched the highlight reel after you left, and Kuroo had to practically drag him out of there as he could barely accept his loss. red shells don’t always mean you win. how you use them matters, and you use them perfectly. the way you drifted as well was beyond any technique he had seen before in real life.

the day after, Kenma comes over to you table with his dessert as a peace offering, and sits down across from you with his head down. “so you’re a gamer, what else do you play?”

“not really a gamer, my cousin just always brought Mario Kart for family holidays.”

Kenma stared at the table for two minutes in silence as you continued eating your lunch and chatting with your team’s other managers until he finally broke out of his trance. “can you teach me?”

“sure, catboy.” you were already eating the pudding cup, giving him a teasing wink now that he seemed so shy. this was the start of a blooming friendship.

masterlist

/when me n @cottonlemonade start brainstorming, great things happen

/this is a drabble in my head but it’s way too long for that… also, what do you think nekoma owes fukurodani after losing??

[heliads]

i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

Ever since you were a kid, your older brother Charles Leclerc has made you promise that you'd never date one of his teammates. Carlos Sainz, however, may be a fiercer test of your willpower than any of you imagined.

masterlist

Charles Leclerc is going to be late to the first race of the season, and it’s so his fault. He’s usually so distracted in trying to make sure that you’re going to be on time that he forgets to check in with himself. That’s why you’re currently watching him scramble around the hotel room, desperately shoving stuff in his pockets and trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“It’s only Bahrain,” you tease him, “how are you this behind already?”

Charles shoots you an infuriated glare, halfway through trying to tug both shoes on at once. “I’m sure this is your fault somehow.”

You roll your eyes. “I trust you to find a reason for that to make sense.”

You’re not fazed by his irritation. Charles is your elder brother of exactly one year, two months, and three weeks, which is, in his decided opinion, more than enough to give him an advantage over you in age and responsibility. Charles has taken it upon himself to watch out for you and Arthur in every way possible, including when either of you visit him at the racetrack.

However, Charles really only has enough room in his brain to worry about one person. In micromanaging you, he’s forgotten to get himself ready in time, thus causing the chaos before you now. You’re not the one to stress this morning, as you won’t be shooting around a track at ungodly speeds, so it’s well within your rights to sit back and laugh as Charles trips over himself in an attempt to still make it to the paddock on time. 

First race and he’s already behind schedule. If only he could use some of that nervous energy to actually be on time the first attempt. He’ll still make it to the race with enough time to spare, but you wouldn’t know that from the way Charles is buzzing behind the wheel, tapping his fingers and mumbling swears whenever the cars in front of him dare to dip below the speed limit.

Eventually, you find yourself in the Ferrari section of the paddock, guided to Charles’ assigned room so he can drop off a bag and grab whatever he needs before heading out again. He adjusts his shirt collar in the mirror, fixing his hair much to your joking derision, and finally declares himself ready to go.

At last, Charles turns to you in the depths of the Ferrari complex, placing his hands on your shoulders like a sports coach about to deliver some life-changing advice. “Y/N, before we go out there, I need you to remember a promise. You swore this to me years ago and I need your word that it isn’t going to change.”

You groan loudly. “Charles, I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

Charles temporarily breaks his stress grip on your shoulders to swat you on the bicep with his right hand. “Absolutely not, are you mad? I want you to promise again. I need to hear it.”

You stare at him. He stares back. “You’re insane,” you tell him.

“Say it,” he replies.

Unfortunately, you kind of knew this was coming. Charles made you promise something like this for the first time back when he was still getting the hang of karting. You’d done something silly like hold hands with one of his friends from his karting team when you were a kid and Charles had flown off the handle. That’s when he’d first come up with the teammate pledge. If you wanted to be there at the race, you had to swear you’d never go out with any of his driving partners, past or present. 

It’s a promise he’d made you continually repeat all throughout Formulas Three and Two, but it’s been a while since you were able to make it to a race due to various life interferences, so you thought he’d forgotten about it or something. It appears that’s far from the case, though. Leave it to Charles to remember something like this.

When it becomes increasingly apparent that neither of you will be going anywhere unless you say the words Charles is yearning to hear, you sigh and give in. “Fine. I solemnly swear that I’m not going to date any of your teammates. I won’t even look at them. I’ll run the second anyone with a Ferrari shirt enters the room.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Be serious.”

“I am serious!” You protest. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to seduce any of your coworkers.”

Charles gives you a pronounced glare. “I’m quoting you on that.”

Your brother looks as if he’d like nothing more than to lecture you for a little longer on the importance of keeping this promise, but luckily, you’re saved by someone rapping on the door. Charles gives you a cautionary look before calling to the visitor that they can come in.

And what a visitor it is. All thoughts of the previous dispute are erased from your head in a matter of moments. Seeing as you’ve been away from the races for so long, you’ve never gotten a chance to actually meet Charles’ teammate at Ferrari. You’ve seen photos, of course, and certainly stared at them for longer than Charles would approve of, if he ever knew, but something about Carlos Sainz is even better in person.

He peers inside the room and a smile instantly crosses his face at the sight of you. “You must be Charles’ sister, Y/N. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while.”

You grin back at him without even thinking of it. “It was the same with me. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Carlos reaches out to shake your hand, and it might just be your imagination, but you swear he holds it perhaps a little longer than he would Arthur’s or Enzo’s. “Only good things, I hope. If not, I hope to convince you otherwise.”

Charles coughs pointedly from beside the two of you, causing Carlos to drop your hand in a flash. “Are you here for a reason, mate, other than to talk to my sister?”

Carlos nods a little too quickly. “Yes, yes. You’re late, cabrón. PR’s been tearing hospitality apart looking for you. We were supposed to head out twenty minutes ago.”

Charles swears under his breath. “You should have told me that at the start, you asshole. Save whatever that was for later, we have to get out there.”

Charles exasperatedly rushes to the table behind him to grab his phone and a fresh Ferrari cap out of his bag. While he’s distracted, Carlos winks at you, whispering something about how he hadn’t minded the delay. Charles can’t hear it, but he must be able to tell from the expression on your face that something is happening.

“Out of my room,” Charles tells Carlos, “we need to get going. Y/N, you remember how to get to hospitality, right? You can meet up with Arthur and the others.”

You nod and he heads to the door, his teammate already shepherded out into the hall by the sheer force of Charles’ indignant stress. Your brother doubles back a moment later, leaning back into the room to give you one last vexed look.

“You promised,” Charles urges you, raising his finger in warning before hurrying out at last.

You’ve never had a problem keeping the teammate promise before. That being said, you think you might have to fight to maintain your word a little harder than you had before. Carlos is– well, his eyes, his hair, the way that red shirt looks against his skin–

Promises!

You’ll never make one again. Silently, you send up a prayer to anyone inclined to listen. You really don’t want to disappoint your brother, but you might need all the moral strength you can get.

You dutifully make your way to Ferrari hospitality as told, and you make it approximately six minutes through listening to your brother’s friends talk about the strategy and the track and the tire compounds before you cave and ask them what you really want to know. And what about his teammate? What’s Carlos like?

They’re not as paranoid as Charles, so they don’t suspect you. You listen carefully, quietly, to how Carlos has really been improving as of late, how he’s been nothing but a gentleman to all of them, what they wouldn’t give to see him more often than just around the paddock.

In short, it’s everything you’d want to hear. When the lights go out and the cars start streaking around the first corner, you realize that the red flash of engine and machinery you’re watching isn’t your brother, but Carlos instead. And, when the Spaniard ends up on the podium, your heart leaps as if it was someone you had known all your life up there, laughing and shouting and spraying champagne.

He still smells sweet when he visits you later. Carlos should know better. So should you. You smile and congratulate him and he thanks you, says that he knew you were watching the whole time and that’s why the race went so well. He waits until your smile is so warm that you could hardly speak and then he asks you to get a drink or two with him later. Just to talk, you know. Unless, of course, you wanted more.

More is exactly what you want with Carlos, but you’re still here in this room with him because you’re here to cheer on your brother, and your brother is the one who’ll be watching you like a hawk until the end of the night. Alright, Carlos says when you admit this to him, You know, I didn’t take you for someone who just wanted to follow the rules.

He’s going to get you killed. You’re delighted with every bit of him. You tell him as much when you give him your phone number. Carlos grins, presses a kiss to your forehead, and tells you when and where he’ll pick you up. You can still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin even after he leaves, even after your brother takes his place and starts rambling about every lap. You don’t hear a word. All you can think about is the new contact in your phone, the one who texts you as you’re leaving the building:

You looked beautiful today, by the way. In case I forgot to tell you.

So you do have a death wish, then. So does he. You text Carlos all throughout that night and the next, making sure that you are able to tell him how imperative that this remains secret from Charles even as you fall endlessly through compliments and charm and glory. 

You meet up with him relatively soon afterwards, even though to you, it feels like centuries have passed since that first meeting. You are absolutely terrified walking to meet him for the first time, certain that it won’t be half of what you imagined. There is a moment of fear, and then you round the corner and he’s there, holding out flowers for you, and the burden of Atlas himself falls from your shoulders.

And– it’s good. Fuck, it’s good. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if it wasn’t, but this is something unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You want to call it love from the first date alone, but you manage to wait a little longer, pushing off the declaration until a few weeks have gone by and he’s kissing you in the shadows of buildings, always running the razor-fine line of being adventurous and getting caught. 

This, you decide, one room down from your brother, Carlos’ hands on your waist, is why you would break the rules. It is all worth stealing; every word, every touch, every moment. You never want it to stop, which of course, means that it must.

You have three glorious months before your golden paradise comes crashing down around you. As time goes on, the two of you feel more and more certain that you won’t get caught. How could you, after all? How could Charles possibly guess? You sneak out of hospitality to meet with Carlos, and he laughs and calls you his little rebel, and everything makes sense in a way it never has before. You trust him to keep you out of trouble even as you drag him further into it. There is no way you could possibly be seen.

And then, when you’re in Carlos’ room and he’s kissing you to say hello and I missed you and you look lovely today, just as always, the door opens. You thought it was locked. You might not even have checked.

It is enough, though. Enough that your brother would be able to walk in and see. Enough that you would feel a terrible fear run like ice water through your veins. Enough for you to know that there would be no chance that he’d let this happen, that Charles would do anything but hate you forever for this.

The look on your brother’s face alone convinces you of that. You’ve had arguments before, in the past, both of you doing things to mess with each other, but never in your life have you ever seen Charles as angry as he is right now. Fury does not even come close to the war radiating from his eyes.

Carlos puts his hands up, tries to step in front of you to deflect some of the blame. “Charles, look, this is my fault. I–”

Charles cuts him off. Carlos usually doesn’t back down to anyone, but you think a raging bull would step aside if Charles was in his path right now. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Y/N, I asked one thing of you. What is this?”

You feel like your heart has stopped beating. A thousand thoughts whir in your head, excuses, pleas for forgiveness, apologies, but nothing comes out. Charles lunges forward, grabbing your arm, pulling you out of the room. Carlos tries to stop the two of you from leaving, but Charles looks him dead in the eyes and tells Carlos he’ll move if he knows what’s good for him. You nod once, mumble that it’s okay, and Carlos steps away at last, watching with a haunted stare as you disappear down the hall.

Charles slams the door of his driver’s room closed behind you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, breathing heavy as he tries and fails to get himself under control. “I made you promise this a hundred times, Y/N. Don’t date my fucking teammates.”

You’ve never been scared of your brother, but today– Today, you are. You shrink away from him, trying to think of anything to say to make this end. “I’m sorry, Charles. So, so sorry.”

“You’re not,” Charles spits. “If you were, you never would have done this in the first place. I want so little from you, and you can’t even do this?”

Hot tears threaten to choke you out, but when you finally manage to get your breath back, the sadness starts to creep away, replaced instead by embittered fury. Who is he to speak to you like this? No brother should treat his family with the hatred he throws at you now.

“You never should have asked me that in the first place. I can do what I want, I’m an adult.”

Charles scoffs. “You’re not acting like one right now. There are so many other men in the world, but no, you had to go behind my back like this. You’ll stay away from him, you understand?”

You feel like screaming. “Stop trying to police what I do! You can’t tell me what to do with my life, you’re not my father!”

“I know!” Charles says, furious, “I know, none of us are. He’s not here anymore, it’s just me trying to look out for you and you won’t even let me do that. Every time I try to do something, you find a way to get around it. God, you make knowing you so damned difficult.”

The room becomes icily silent. Charles’ eyes are wide and scared. You don’t think he meant to say that, but he did, and there is no going back from it now.

“Alright, then,” you reply as calmly as you can, “I’ll fix that for you, then. You don’t have to handle me anymore.”

Charles sucks in a breath. “Wait, Y/N–”

You don’t let him finish, already to the door before he can even complete the last syllable of your name. It slams behind you, making you flinch. You don’t know what you’d say if you saw him again, but you still walk slowly to the elevator, then wait five minutes by the button, just in case he comes after you. He doesn’t. The hall is dark and cold, just like the streets outside when you finally gather up the last pitiful scraps of your pride and leave.

You don’t go to any more races after that. You stay at home and go about your normal business and pretend that nothing is the matter even though everything is. You don’t answer when Charles texts you later, or when he calls, or when the attempts to reach you eventually fall away to nothingness. Carlos tries to contact you as well, but you doubt he wants to stay with you after that explosion with Charles, so you do him a favor and ignore him too. 

He’ll thank you for it later, maybe, if he even remembers you at all. Formula One drivers are a big deal around the world. You wouldn’t be surprised if Carlos forgets you over a supermodel or twelve, even if it would stab you through the heart to see a paparazzi photo of him with any other girl.

You don’t talk to anyone, actually, no one except your friends, and they know enough to not ask a single question. You don’t see any of your family, certain that they’d be on Charles’ side. You don’t want any more lectures, so it’s easier to just pretend like it’s just you against the world. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You have been known to lie before.

You last a few months before your facade starts to crack. No matter how well luck runs in your favor, how many new friends you make, nothing compares to what you’d had before. You find yourself staying up at night just waiting for a call so you can ignore it, or wake from a dream in which someone was there, talking to you, when you’d never dare so much as look at them now.

It’s not enough. Of course it isn’t. You had everything you could have possibly wanted— boyfriend and brother, both Ferrari drivers, your family happy that you were showing up to more races and the love of your life thrilled to see you each and every time— so how could none of that ever be enough? It never will be. You could spend a thousand lifetimes in this terrible empty resolution and still not be satisfied, not when you remember how you used to have it all not so long ago. 

You’re not sure how long you could have lasted like this. Perhaps you could have stuck to it forever, a grudge grown inside you like the roots of an evergreen, but it would have choked you out before long. Something intervenes, though. Someone, to be specific. Someone like your other brother, the younger one.

Arthur calls you. Frames it under the guise of wanting advice for an upcoming trip, but he finds a way to sneak discussion of Charles in there when your guard is down. He says Charles regrets it. You don’t believe him until an envelope shows up on your doorstep four days later containing plane tickets to the city of the next Formula One race. Addressed from your estranged brother. Including a note that says, Sorry. And, C.L.

Nothing more. The paper practically tears from the weight of you folding it and unfolding it in your hands. It seems to have aged centuries by the time you get off of the plane, stepping down in foreign territory both in terms of the new stamp you’ll get to add to your passport and the uneasy feeling resting in your chest when Charles texts you the number of the hotel room he bought you and his as well. Just in case, you know, you maybe wanted to talk.

You take the flight and you go to the hotel and you bring all of your suitcases and misguided hopes to sit along with you. It’s dark out when you finally manage to get up the courage to lock your door and go to Charles’ room instead. He gets back from media duties around this time, you’re sure he would be there if you just knocked. If you just tried.

The problem is how to make it last. You stand in front of his door, shaking, and then you raise your hand and rap once against the wood. It’s quiet enough that you could leave if he didn’t hear you, having done your job of attempting to reach him.

Charles hears you, though. The unhappy thought occurs to you that he’s probably been waiting for this and dreading it just as much as you. Your knuckles have barely left the smooth surface of the door before you hear the sound of footsteps on carpet, and then he’s undoing the latch and your brother is there again.

You hover for a moment, not sure what to do. Is he mad still? Couldn’t be, if he went to the expense of flying you out here. Does he expect you to apologize?

Instead of anything like that, Charles surges forward, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He hasn’t hugged you like this in a while, even before the fight. It’s like you’re kids again, and Charles has just won a karting round and he’s still small enough that having his sister there isn’t an embarrassment but a source of pride.

Something hot spikes through your throat, but you swallow it back and hug him, too. This is your brother. Even after a fight, he’s your family. The two of you have been trying your hardest to forget that, but he is.

Charles disengages himself soon enough to gesture you into the room. You take a careful seat on one of the available chairs and Charles sinks down onto a sofa, head propped up on hands on knees.

“I’m not sorry,” you blurt out. It’s stupid, you probably should have at least said something to clear the air before starting with that, but you want him to know what he’s getting himself into.

Even weeks after the incident, when the anger burned off and you just felt sad and alone, you still never felt regret for dating Carlos. You loved him. Still do, actually. You would have done it all over again if given the chance. If your temporary surrender with Charles is based on the lie that you’ll repent for having the audacity to fall in love, it would never last long anyway. Better to get it over with now.

Charles chuckles. “Yes, I had guessed that. Joris told me I was being stupid.”

You snort in disbelief before you can stop yourself. “You told Joris?”

Charles shrugs wildly. “Who else was I supposed to complain to, Carlos? Both Arthur and Enzo told me it was my fault and I wanted someone to agree with me.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Maybe you should have taken that as a sign that I was right and you weren’t.”

Charles groans, but he’s not mad. Not anymore. Neither of you are, actually. “Well, that’s why you’re here, obviously. I was– I was stupid. I can’t control you. You’re not a kid anymore. Just, Y/N– Carlos?”

He says the last part in a desperate plea, practically beseeching you to come to your senses. You laugh, unable to stay serious when Charles looks so horrified. “Let me live, Charles. He was worth it.”

“I assumed,” Charles says darkly, then, “Does this mean I get to date one of your friends? If you say no, you are a hypocrite.”

You roll your eyes. “They wouldn’t want you. I’ve warned them off of drivers.”

Charles protests that, but weakly. The two of you are giggling like nothing had happened, which, although infinitely preferable to fighting, confuses you more than anything. Is this it, then? Is the fight over? So many months of separation, and it’s done without hardly even being debated?

You eye your brother cautiously once his laughter subsides. “You’re really okay with it, then? I mean, you were so mad when you found out.”

Charles winces at the memory. “I was caught by surprise. I was angry, yes, but it shouldn’t have been that much. I knew I fucked up when you left. I told myself that it was more important that you come back.”

It’s what you had felt as well. After your father died– well, there are only so many of us. You learn that family is worth more than argument. Charles has been quick to forgive ever since then. It is easy to be lonely when you are far from home and there is nobody left who knows you.

You nod, accepting this. If Charles has made his peace, then– well, you would be lying if you said you had come to this race just to see your brother. “And– Carlos, is he–”

“I don’t know,” Charles answers evenly. “I haven’t seen a lot of him. I have no idea if he is angry or unhappy or anything. We’re nice on camera because PR makes us, but we’ve avoided each other a lot.”

Your face must betray your apprehension, because Charles waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’m sure he still thinks you’re sweet. He did tell me off for a long time when you left. He would not have done that if it was nothing. If you want to see him again, I am sure he would be okay with it.”

You laugh bitterly. “It’s been months, Charles. I don’t know if he even wants to look at me anymore, let alone date me again.”

Charles shakes his head. “What do you lose by going? Besides, now that I am invested in it, I want this to pay off. I did not spend money for your flight over here just for you to get ghosted.”

You toss a pillow at his head. Charles deflects it with ease and points towards his door. “He is out there, target him and not me! Now go already, I want to stop moping around. Maman says it is terrible for the constitution.”

You laugh and head for the door, pausing slightly over the threshold when you realize that you actually have no idea where Carlos is at all. You could, of course, just wait until the next day when you can see him at Ferrari hospitality, but you do not want to waste another moment when you’ve already gone so long without him.

A voice over your shoulder quells your worrying. “He’s in room 519.”

You shoot Charles a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, and you’re off, barely stopping long enough to close the door behind you before hurrying down the corridor once more.

You’re already on the fifth floor, which makes sense; Ferrari puts their drivers somewhat close to each other so they can help each other back if they’ve gotten a little too hammered after a long night out. You take two turns and then you’re there, 519. The end of the line. Your own personal fate.

You thought you would be more afraid to face Charles than Carlos, but for some reason now you feel as if you can hardly move at all. You have to force your hand to form a fist and rap against the wood, but your heart is hammering in your chest all the while.

For a brief, terrible moment, you entertain the notion that Carlos will not come to the door but someone else, a woman perhaps, halfway undressed or something horrendous like that. Instead, it’s him, just him, and you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest.

Carlos looks at you, dark eyes wide. He hasn’t seen you since the fight, and you were so afraid of everything that you didn’t respond to a single message or call. Still, you are standing in front of him now, so surely that must count for something.

“I forgave him,” you say, voice echoing in the stillness between you, “Charles.”

Carlos lets out this slow breath, and you’re debating whether it’s laced with disappointment or indifference or maybe something else, something better, the thoughts racing through your head at record time right up until he kisses you. And then– well, then you don’t have to worry anymore. You know. You know everything.

“I was waiting,” he murmurs against the top of your head, unwilling to pull away more than a centimeter or two even for a lack of breath, “I thought you might have thought we weren’t worth the risk.”

You shake your head indignantly. “No, never. I was scared, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Carlos leans away just slightly, enough that you can see the playful smile on his face as he traces the curve of your cheekbone. “My little rulebreaker, scared? Couldn’t be.”

You laugh, let him pull you into his room and shut the door. No one in the world needs to know the thousand ways you make it up to each other, how you make a new promise to him as a crescent moon snakes further up the sky:  you will never let a single thing get in between the two of you again. The stars soften, dawn colors the morning sky, and you, you have happiness beyond compare.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

What is this feeling?

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot let me know if you want p2. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

In the world of Formula 1, Red Bull Racing had always been synonymous with innovation and dominance. The team’s latest bold move, however, had set the paddock abuzz—YN, the first woman in decades to race in F1, had been signed as Max Verstappen’s teammate. It was a decision that polarized fans and media alike. Max, a four-time World Champion, was less than thrilled.

“She’s untested at this level,” Max had muttered to Christian Horner during the preseason testing. “And she’s… peculiar.”

YN, on the other hand, had heard every sexist remark and skeptical murmur from the moment she stepped into the paddock. She’d grown a thick skin, but being partnered with Max Verstappen—arrogant, aloof, and undeniably brilliant—was a challenge she hadn’t entirely anticipated. From the moment they were introduced, sparks flew, and not the good kind.

“You missed the apex again,” Max’s voice crackled through the shared radio channel during practice.

YN gritted her teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she took the next corner. “Thanks for the advice, Coach,” she snapped back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

In the garage later, their tension spilled into the open.

“Maybe if you listened to me, you wouldn’t be three-tenths slower,” Max said, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

“Maybe if you focused on your own setup instead of micromanaging mine, we’d both be faster,” YN shot back, glaring up at him. She wasn’t intimidated by his height, his trophies, or his reputation. Max was taken aback, momentarily at a loss for words, which only fueled her satisfaction.

Despite their mutual loathing, Christian and Helmut had made it abundantly clear—their success depended on cooperation. Red Bull’s dominance was fragile; they couldn’t afford this. And so, YN and Max found themselves paired for strategy meetings, team-building exercises, and post-race debriefs. The team’s insistence on unity only seemed to intensify their animosity.

Yet, there was something else—a charge in the air whenever they were near each other. It was an unspoken, almost forbidden undercurrent that neither wanted to acknowledge. Every argument crackled with more energy than it should have, and every accidental brush of hands or shoulders lingered just a moment too long.

During a heated argument after qualifying in Monaco, the tension boiled over.

“You can’t keep cutting me off during debriefs, Max,” YN said, her voice low but dangerous. They were standing in a narrow hallway outside the media center, their voices echoing faintly against the walls.

“Maybe if you made a valid point, I wouldn’t have to,” Max retorted, stepping closer.

“You’re such a… an asshole!” YN’s cheeks flushed with anger, her chest heaving as she met his gaze.

Max leaned in slightly, his blue eyes locked onto hers. “And you’re impossible to work with.” His voice was softer now, almost a whisper, but the intensity remained. The space between them felt electric, and for a fleeting second, YN’s breath caught in her throat. She hated how he could disarm her with just a look—hated how her heart betrayed her by skipping a beat.

“Good thing we’re not here to make friends,” she finally managed, stepping back and breaking the spell.

The tension wasn’t confined to the paddock. During a sponsor event in Austria, the two were forced to engage in a game of go-karting against a group of contest winners. Max, of course, took it as seriously as a Grand Prix, while YN approached it with her usual mix of competitiveness and charm.

“Ready to lose again?” Max teased as they lined up on the grid.

“To you? Never,” YN replied with a smirk.

The race was fierce, filled with playful jabs and a few borderline moves that had their team manager raising an eyebrow. By the end, YN managed to edge Max out by half a kart length. She jumped out of her kart, raising her fists triumphantly.

“Enjoy second place, champ!” she called, her laughter ringing out as Max approached her.

He stopped in front of her, shaking his head but unable to hide the small, begrudging smile tugging at his lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re overrated,” she shot back, but there was no venom in her voice this time. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to fade. Max’s smile faltered, replaced by something softer, more contemplative. YN quickly looked away, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I’ll be sure to remind everyone of this victory during the next press conference.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Max said, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

She winked at him. “Watch me.”

As the season progressed, their animosity remained, but so did the unspoken tension. It was during a rain-soaked race in Spa that things shifted. YN had been leading when a sudden downpour caused her car to spin out. She managed to recover but dropped to fifth. After the race, drenched and frustrated, she found Max waiting for her in the garage.

“Tough luck out there,” he said, his usual smugness replaced by something almost empathetic.

“Thanks,” she muttered, surprised by his sincerity.

He hesitated before adding, “You drove well. Better than most would have in those conditions.”

She blinked up at him, caught off guard. “Is that… a compliment from Max Verstappen? Should I record this moment for posterity?”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto his face. “Don’t get used to it.”

By the time the season finale rolled around, their relationship had evolved. The arguments were still there, but so were the moments of camaraderie and even—dare they admit it—something resembling affection. After a grueling race in Abu Dhabi, where they secured a one-two finish for the team, they found themselves alone in the motorhome, celebrating with a quiet drink.

“Not bad for a peculiar rookie, huh?” YN said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

Max chuckled, clinking his glass against hers. “Not bad at all.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, a rarity between them. Max studied her for a moment before speaking. “You know, you’ve proven a lot of people wrong this year.”

“Including you?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching his face.

“Especially me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his words hung between them, heavy with meaning.

YN’s heart raced, and for once, she didn’t try to hide it. “Maybe you’re not so bad either,” she said softly.

The corners of Max’s mouth twitched upward, and for the first time, there was no animosity in his eyes—only warmth.

Perhaps, YN thought, loathing could evolve into something far more complicated, and far more exhilarating.

Part 2

@justaf1girl

[cheriladycl01]

My Job is Beach ... - Valtteri Bottas x ItalianOlympicBeachVolleyball! Reader

Plot: You spend time with your boyfriend after the Australian GP doing what you do best, Beach Barbie and Beach Ken

Valtteri had an incredible race, him and Lewis both in a fantastic car as fantastic drivers. And you’d luckily been there to celebrate with him.

You loved going to Australia with him, it was so warm at the time of year the race was and it meant you got to go to the beach.

Which of course was one of your favourite things. Growing up in a small coastal town in Italy, meant you were at the beach pretty much all the time. You went there before school, after school, on the weekends. Even during school, your school was right next to a beach which is where you picked up your sport.

At first it was just for fun, like most hobbies start of as.

But after playing in some matches against others schools across Italy, your teacher and parents realised there was something special there.

You didn’t see it or get it, you just loved the beach do anything you did there was fun to you.

So of course they ended up getting you a coach. Someone who was willing to privately train you and get you into better teams in Italy.

In 2016 you competed in Brazil. Rio De Janeiro was an incredible place and it’s actually where you met Valtteri.

He and a few of the drivers had ended up coming to watch some of the Olympics and you’d bumped into him on the beach with Lewis.

You’d recognised both of them straight away, and struck up a conversation with them.

“Oh! Your Valtteri Bottas! And Your Felipe Massa!” You’d exclaimed at the men and they’d awkwardly nodded thinking you were a fan wanting a picture or autograph.

“What are you guys here for?” You ask, knowing that the race this year wasn’t until November. They were in summer break right now.

“Oh, we are here for the Olympics. We got invited” Felipe admits and you grin.

“Oh, I’m here for them too!” You grin.

“Oh yeah, you here to watch any sport in particular?” Valtteri asked.

“Watch? No im one of the beach volleyballers! Team Italia” You smile.

And the rest was history after that. You and Valtteri got together and he got a promotion to Mercedes after Nico Rosberg left the sport.

It was early the next day, the Monday after the race and you and Valtteri were still shacked up in Australia. You wanted to spend some more time here travelling to your favourite Aussie beaches.

So you took the 1hour flight from Melbourne to Sydney so that you were on Bondi beach. You guys had rented out a place close to the coast for easy access.

You guys were with a few friends, some of Valtteri and some of yours. Somehow your friendship groups just mixed together well. You were both apprehensive at first but realised after a house party that it was fine, the language barrier at first was a little awkward but English being a common ground for most of the group worked.

“Amore mio, please come join us! Then I promise you we will go on a bike ride!” You say cuddling up to him… you’d just finished unpacking and he was laying on the bed cuddling up to you.

“Im no good. And I just embarrass myself Rakas” he sighs pulling you into him and kissing all over your face affectionately making you giggle.

At first Valtteri was very shy when it came to showing you any level of affection and your overly affectionate side thanks to your large Italian family upbringing was very overwhelming to him at first.

But soon he learnt it was your love language and the more confident he got, the clingier he got.

“It’s meant to be for fun! You don’t have to be good at it” you giggle running your finger through his hair as he looks up at you.

“But all your friends are so good!” He exclaims sitting up.

“Mmmm and now you know how I feel when you take me karting!” You laugh knowing you have the bruises to prove just how bad you were at the sport.

“Okay okay fine. But just because I love you!” He says in that gruff lower voice.

You guys play beach volleyball for the majority of the morning until the suns at full peak.

“Barbecue sulla spiaggia?” One of your friends suggest whose English wasn’t great, especially when she was tired after a long morning of playing volleyball, in the sand and under the hot Australian sun.

“She suggested a Rantagrilli?” You say trying your best to translate for Valtteri and his friends who wouldn’t have understood the Italian.

You weren’t allowed to do this on Bondi but closer to where your beach Villa was, you knew you’d be able to cook on the beach there as it was private to the Villa.

They all nod eagerly and before you know it, you guys are using two barbecue for the amount of people you are cooking for. One that’s on the back garden of the beach villa and then one that was already in the sand.

You guys spent lunch munching on burgers and salad, and chicken and hot dog. It was for sure a chest day for all of you, most of you guys being athletes and being on strict diets.

After you’d spent the afternoon cuddling with Valtteri on the beach letting lunch go down, you both went out for a bike ride. He of course had chosen the longest and steepest route to take, meaning you came back drenched in sweat and cursing at Valtteri for making you endure that.

"I want a Dolce Sorpresa!" you groan your head leaning against him and he looks at you.

"A what?" he asks. You'd learnt a little Finnish for him but he still struggled with some of you little idioms.

"Sweet Treat, I'm craving Boba, I saw a shop on the way back!" you grin, kissing him before taking his hand to drag him to the Boba Tea shop!

"Then, can we go to the beach again?" you ask.

"You just love the beach don't you!" he smiles.

"Mmmmmm, my job is literally beach..." you giggle.

y/user

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y/user: Beach, Bike, BBQ and Boba all in Bondi

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valterribottas: nice alliteration hunny!

-> y/user: thank you baby! Thought it was very funny!

fan1: say hello to our resident beach Barbie and beach Ken.

-> fan2: no because the way her job is literally beach and his job is literally car 🥲😅

->fan3: yeah not an f1 driver and Olympic Silver Medalist lmfao 🤣

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We attempted … we fell lots!

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[sargeantposting]

Logan: And I couldn't thank my mechanic enough. And also my parents, uh, they really helped me to be able to win the world championship and it’s just an amazing feeling.  Interviewer: I mean, did you, did you, what did you do when you found out you won? Did you call your friends at home? Did you phone your grandpa? What did you get up to?  Logan: Uh, no, I just gave my mom and dad a really big hug. Interviewer: Is it still sinking in now?  Logan: Yeah, it's, it's a really emotional thing. [full transcript continues below cut]

Interviewer: I can imagine. I can imagine. You said that your mechanic Scott and also your driver Coach Gary really helped you along the way. How did, how did they do that?  Logan: Um, well, my driver coach Gary, he helped me a lot. Of course, he manages everything and he always keeps me calm before the races and just makes sure I'm always at my best. And Scott, of course, he always just makes sure the cart is perfect, make sure all the tire pressures are good and yeah, that's about it.  Interviewer: What's the difference before you get into the race? You said he keeps you calm and then when you put your helmet and you're actually sitting in the car. How do you feel? What's the difference?  Logan: Well, until the engines start, it's a bit, it was, it was a bit nerve wracking. But once the engines start, you forget about everything and you're ready.  Interviewer: And do you, do you just believe that you can beat all of your fellow races because sometimes some of those races there's like 90 odd other kids aren't there? Logan: Yeah, that weekend I was feeling really confident because I had been quick the whole week and I had won the pre-final. So I, yes, I did believe I could win.  Interviewer: Tell me about when you were a little bit younger than you are now. You're only 14 now. But why racing, why, why is this so important to you?  Logan: Um, well, my dad bought me a, a racing kart when I was five years old and we started from there. We thought it would just be like a little hobby and, uh, it ended up becoming like a professional thing we did. So. Interviewer: So, so was there a moment when you, when you or your dad just thought ‘Wow, I'm quick. I can do this’?  Logan: Um, well, not really. We just kept progressing and then, um, when we, when we decided to come to Europe to race, um, we moved to Switzerland and from then on we were just, uh, going to school, I started going to school in Switzerland. And, yeah, and then we just kept going and then ended up like this.  Interviewer: Do you have any other hobbies? Can you fit anything else in?  Logan: Um, well, other than school it's really hard. But when I get my breaks and I go back to Florida for, um, I like to go fishing a lot and, yeah, that's what I do. Mostly.  Interviewer: Nice, nice and relaxing. Schumacher, Vettel and Senna are just some of your idols, aren't they? What is it about them that you love?  Logan: Uh, just like the legacy that they've built and how, how good they were.  Interviewer: So, is that what you want to achieve?  Logan: Yeah, definitely.  Interviewer: Where do you want to go from here?  Logan: Um, well, next year I'll be racing in KF and then after that I'll try and make my way to Formula One.  Interviewer: And do you think if you achieved getting to Formula One, do you think you could match maybe Lewis Hamilton or Sebastian Vettel's four titles or even Michael's?  Logan: Well, we're far away away from that. But, um, hopefully, yeah, we'll see.  Interviewer: You must think about it though. Teenagers always think about stuff like this, don't they?  Logan: Yeah, of course. But it's a long way away. So I, I'm just focused on next year.  Interviewer: Well, we wish you lots of luck for next year and well done. Logan: Thank you very much.

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations - Part 3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: a fic focused on the readers career because YOU ARE A QUEEN

a/n: i wrote this before the Newey/RBR break up. i also can’t stop ending my fics with a social media post 😭

requests open masterlist

————————

When Daniel retired from F1, you were ready to pull the plug on your career, but he wouldn’t let you. He saw the passion you still had and didn’t want to extinguish it just because he wasn’t going to have a seat in the race anymore. Instead, he decided to live his best life as a stay-at-home dad while also coaching Florence who was naturally drawn to her dad’s karts.

Your family eventually moved to England, it being the easier move with your job promotion and Florence’s karting. You took the Chief Engineering Officer position after Daniel retired, working closely with the man who taught you so much. Adrian and you were a dynamic duo, the cars you build together are rocket ships. Daniel is an ambassador for Red Bull when he isn’t with Florence at karting competitions. You’ve been teaching Sidney about the mechanics behind karts and the cars, letting him come to work with you to shadow once in a while.

You walk into Christian’s office to remind him about the family dinner tonight, Max already promised to be in attendance with P and Kelly.

“Y/n, mind taking a seat?” Christian asks, you think nothing of it, figuring he just wants an update on the car.

“What’s up? There isn’t much of a progress update yet,” you say, sipping your coffee.

“I’d like to sign Florence into our driver development program. Not just because she is a Ricciardo, but because she has the technical knowledge and the talent. I know someone with Rodin who has a seat open for her in Formula 4,” Christian says and you nod, having gotten a similar offer from Mercedes and Ferrari. You feel pride in your daughter, her hard work and drive being recognized by top programs. It’s extra special because Christian is using his connections to help get her a seat with Daniel’s old F3 team.

“The PR will be tricky to manage, but would you like to tell her at dinner tonight?” you smile, F1 fans already joke about Red Bull being Ricciardo central. Sidney is preparing for his semester finals for Mechanical Engineering and you can’t believe it’s been ten years since they made their first paddock appearance. You negotiate some terms with Christian, the most important being that if she wants to leave the program and go to another, she can.

“We will announce it once she’s signed with the team, I’ll give my person a call,” Christian lets you know before you go to your office. You admire the family photo you took when Florence won the CIK-FIA world championship last month. She’s been dominating British karting all year, Daniel has been working so hard to help her get where she wants to be.

Your day flies by, and before you know it you are all seated in your living room.

“How’s the driver program selection going?” Max asks Christian, genuinely curious.

“I actually made my selection today, Florence, how do you feel about the family legacy?” Christian beams as her face lights up.

“Really? Oh my god, thank you Uncle Christian!” she darts over to him to hug him. “Uncle Maxie, you better watch out,” she grins at Max, who is a Red Bull institution.

“I’ll be very lucky if I am still racing when you get to F1, but I will be happy to coach you,” Max chuckles, knowing he’s pushing the limit of his career.

“No way, that job is reserved for me,” Daniel tells Max who just frowns at his friend for taking away his plan.

A few years later, your whole family is essentially traveling race to race. Sidney is interning with Red Bull, Florence is racing with Rodin in F2, and Daniel is living his best life as a commentator.

“Y/n, let’s grab coffee,” you’ve noticed that Christian tends to say that when he has something important to say.

“What’s wrong?” you cut straight to the chase.

“Max is retiring after this season and I am going to retire as well,” Christian says and a silence falls between you.

“It’s a well deserved retirement for both of you,” you say after a couple seconds.

“I am recommending you for team principal. I also want you to be involved in choosing who is the next driver for the team,” Christian says and you pause.

“I would be honored, that would be huge shoes to fill,” you say after a second.

“You deserve it, you’ve worked your way up from the bottom,” Christian reassures you. In the next month, you signed your contract and got Oliver Bearman to replace Max’s seat.

“You should’ve let me take the seat, Mom,” Florence smiles, you shake your head.

“Not yet, you are a wonderful driver, but I can’t sign you my first year as team principal,” you tell her. Your promotion has been well received among staff and fans. You take the promotion seriously, learning what you don’t know while Christian is still there.

Five years later you walk into testing excitedly. It is a special day for your family.

“Daniel Ricciardo here reporting from the Paddock for testing, let’s see who we can grab,” your husband says, looking towards the entrance where you are walking in. “Y/n Ricciardo, have a second for an interview,” he smiles as you ate into the frame.

“I do, rare for a team principal,” you smile adoringly at your husband, still the young driver getting his shot in your eyes.

“How do you feel going into testing?”

“Great, my engineers and I have worked hard on the car, we are excited to see how it performs against the field,”

“And you have a new driver this year? How is that going?”

“Well so far, as a team we’ve been watching her for years. She’s worked hard with our junior team and we are always excited to bring young talent in. It’s always a tough decision when choosing someone for a seat, but we are confident in our choice,” you say, keeping things professional. The fans watching live are loving the interview, commenting about how your family is acting as if you aren’t a family.

“One last question, your new driver, Florence Ricciardo, is bringing in her own race engineer, Sidney Ricciardo, an engineer who worked for Red Bull Racing in the past. Are there any worries about an unproven race engineer?” Daniel says, the two of you somehow keeping a straight face.

“Obviously we want our drivers to be comfortable with their race engineer. Sidney has been with the team for a while before going to McLaren, so we are excited to welcome him back. Our team has worked with him to familiarize himself with the job, and he will be beside me on pit wall today for that reason,” you explain, a small smile holding back the laughter.

“Thank you for your time, Y/n. Good luck today,” Daniel tells you before you walk off. The video goes viral among F1 fans for the sheer humor of it. Fans also love that Florence and Sidney are following their parent footsteps and career paths.

“That interview was so funny,” Sidney sits beside you in hospitality.

“Thank you, Sid. I may be old but I can still be funny,” you smile at your son. “Are you nervous? I remember how nervous I was on pit wall the first time as your dad’s engineer,” you ask him.

“I am your son, I’ve got it in the bag, plus it’s only Flo,” Sidney says as Florence barges into the room, sitting beside you. Daniel follows behind her, quietly sitting beside her.

“Thanks for basically disowning me on live television, Mom. Oh, hi Dad,” Florence hugs her dad as you all try not to laugh.

“Come on, Flo, it was funny watching Mom and Dad act like we all weren’t related,” Sidney laughs. The social media team takes a picture and posts it on twitter.

twitter

@redbullracing: guys, a bunch of people with the last name Ricciardo are sitting in our hospitality, I guess all but one works for us. Apparently they know each our team principal? Are they related or is this just a weird coincidence?

@y/nricciardo not related to me, just a weird coincidence.

↪️@florencericciardo MOM! STOP DISOWNING ME

↪️@sidneyricciardo no, no, please continue disowning her

↪️@danielricciardo Do you know who these two are, Y/n? I don’t recognize them

↪️@y/nricciardo I’m sorry, do I know a Daniel?

[thef155]

Carlos’s comments at his karting event - February 5, 2024

"I'm fine, don't worry about me. I'm calm and we are already working on the future of course, but above all also on what is ahead of us or a very important year. It will be my last season with the team and I will want to do it in the best possible way, for this reason today I am here on a Go Kart track to train my best to give all this year."

"Obviously these things, maybe from the outside you don't notice them, but I from the inside I see and know things long before you and I have prepared with my team for all the changes that will come. As I said, however, I don't want to think about anything other than this season and I want to give it my all for Ferrari."

"It's been a different winter this year. It's true that I've changed all my coaches, and also the way I prepare for the races. I'm doing a lot more cardiovascular work with the bike, and of course the more I can ride with the Karts or with the Formula 1 car the better. We did a few days of testing in Barcelona last week and tomorrow I will be in Fiorano with the 2022 car to do a couple of runs."

"I think I'm a driver who gets better with the passage of the seasons, it doesn't seem to me that there has ever been a year in which I took a step back during my career. I'm continuing to grow, this year I'm going to be thirty but I feel younger and more motivated than ever. I always try to find that extra something I can have on the Go Kart, the bike, or the Formula 1. That's my philosophy and it will always be like that."

"That's why I'm telling you that I'm very quiet. I know what my level and my value is. I know there will be good things in the future, but for the moment the most beautiful adjective I have in mind this year with Ferrari is to do the best."

"This last week is not the best to start a year, but since I'm going to put on my helmet in Bahrain, I'm going to get on track and start working with my engineers I can assure you that I won't hear anything. I will feel that I will want to go as strong as possible and if there is an opportunity to become world champion I will be there to see it."

Article Here

[azzyangelfish]

Redacted Characters As Things My Coworkers Have Said:

(For context I’ve been coaching competitive swimming for a month)

David: What do you think you did wrong? The colour of your suit does not determine your time.

Sam: Wait how old do you guys think I am? 56- *takes a deep breath* moving on!

Alexis: God I hate kids- Oh hey that was an awesome race kiddo!

Asher: Listen, we can debate all we want about what the best character in Mario Kart is. But, if someone can win Rainbow Road at 150cc we will play sharks in minnows instead of doing the main set next practice!

Angel: And remember! If a man ever tells you that you’re hysteric I give you full permission to punch him in the nose.

Milo: That is an objectively wrong opinion. I don’t care that opinions can’t be right or wrong- your opinion is wrong case closed, end of story, see you later alligator.

William: Back in my day we didn’t have technology to keep track of our sets and swimmers *yaps about the good old days*

Darlin: Ok listen up! Since I don’t want to be here, and yall don’t want to be here because it’s a warm Friday afternoon, let’s go ‘do dry land’ outside! *takes the group on a walk instead*

Bonus (things that coaches have said to me):

Quinn: All you guys do during practice is slack off and I’m sick and tired of- *his dentures fall out of his mouth and into the pool*

William: You there! With the Russian name!

Kody: I had to go through this as a swimmer so now I’m getting my revenge by making you guys do it too.

Huxley: Do you guys want to go and play capture the flag or would you rather do pushups- ok ok capture the flag it is!

Quinn: It’s a shame that they don’t let us do punishment sets anymore. I mean athletes these days have no discipline, your group had punishment sets and you guys turned out fine!

[thissying]

FORMULE 1 Magazine, 2017, number 6

former go-kart opponents about Max

Dave Blom karted against Verstappen in 2011 and 2012

"I used to defeat Max sometimes: on the Playstation. I wasn't in school, he wasn't in school so we'd be racing against each other four, five hours in a day. We were both incredibly competitive. Still are actually. When Max has time we play a game of FIFA against each other online. And he'll be laughing again when he wins and when I win it's the same. Because we're two years apart in age, I used to kart in a higher class than him but we did hang out together.

"In 2011 we truly met on track for the first time. At a high level: the European and World Championships. During practice I was sometimes faster but in the races Max always finished ahead of me. He was so immediately focused and fast after the start. After the first corner we already couldn't overtake him any more. Max and Jos also did everything to be able to win. Their engines and chassis were always very good. If, after practices before a race, they felt it didn't go quite well, they'd go to a different track in the evening to keep testing. There was so much passion behind it.

"I remember a race in Japan. I was fifth, Max third. Suddenly I see him overtaking those two before him in one turn just like that. Incredible move, is what you think then. That's what you see in F1 now as well. He plans his moves where you don't expect them, puts the car alongside, you lose your concentration for a second and he's gone already. Unfortunately for me it was financially impossible to make the move to racecars. Sometimes I still visit the track, as a driver's coach. I now work as a salesman at a BMW-dealership. Max and I have always kept in touch; he's a good friend of mine. I talk to him regularly and celebrated New Year's at his place in Monaco. In May I'll see him again at the Monaco GP."

📷🎥: instagram 🎤: andré hazes - kleine jongen

[monacodarling]

Where is my lestappen kart dads au

Kimi and Ollie gokart and are like rivals and are quite popular for being track terrors but off track they are actually best friends

On the other hand their respective dads…are off track terrors like the stewards and coaches get tired of them complaining and they have this tension and when they had a parents kart racing event the inchident happens

And maybe Kimi and ollie do parent trap and forces their dads to get along….

…ends up as step siblings in the process lmao

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – Y/N PROFILE

full name: y/n harper

date of birth: june 3rd, 2005

birthplace: cambridge, england

family members: william harper (father); sarah harper (mother)

teams: prema racing (2020-2023), campos racing (2024-now)

driver academy: red bull junior team (2019-now)

instagram: yourusername

best friends: jak crawford, dino beganovic, pepe marti

racing record:

2020 italian f4 championship – third place (six podiums; two wins)

2021 formula regional european championship – fifth place (four podiums; one win)

2022 formula regional european championship – second place (nine podiums; three wins)

2023 fia formula 3 championship – second place (five podiums; three wins)

2024 fia formula 2 championship – ongoing

trivia:

– y/n harper is the only child of four-time world champion william harper. her father was a ferrari driver for a total of eleven years and won his first two titles with the italian team in 2007 and 2008, before moving on to drive for red bull. there, he won his second championship in 2010 – only to move back to ferrari and take his last title with them the following season. as of early 2021, he's the head of the ferrari driver academy.

– y/n began karting at the age of seven, starting off with being coached by her father but later moving on to getting a trainer of her own. she joined the red bull junior team for her last year of karting and has stayed in the academy ever since.

– american f2 driver jak crawford joined the junior team one year later, and he and y/n found each other instantly. the two have been best friends, as well as neighbors, since then.

– y/n began being romantically involved with teammate paul aron during the summer break of the 2022 freca season. however, the pair split up almost a year later. she then started dating ferrari academy driver oliver bearman in late july 2023.

– y/n was homeschooled between ages 14 and 16 so that she could focus more on her driving.

– besides racing, her interests include skiing, baking, reading, and journaling.

– despite often being held back by her own performance anxiety and imposter syndrome, she is very set on and clear about her goal; getting into formula one. she has claimed that she will never truly be satisfied until she stands on the top step of the podium after an f1 race like her father did so many times.

series masterlist

[mrs-saturday]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*Start Of Something New˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Twinkle Towne (An F1 X High School Musical AU!)

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: george russell x fem!reader, platonic!rest of grid x reader

♥ synopsis: New years parties, chalets and karaoke... Is this the start of something new for up-and-coming driver George Russell and maths genius Y/N L/N?

♥ warnings: nada, no warnings here bbys

♥ a/n: tysm for all your amazing love, support and kindness on my work! all the likes and kind reblogs and convos I have with you all over asks mean so so much to me, and im glad people are enjoying my work! TT is a purely self indulgent fic, but I hope you'll grow to love her as much as I do! Enjoy the show!

You had always hated these FIA New Years parties, and this year was NO exception. Every year it was the same old chalet in the alps, with the same old music and the same old countdowns to the new year with a load of young drivers. You weren’t even a driver yourself, it just happened that your father, Sebastian Vettel, was like the it girl of driving, so you basically HAD to go to all these parties.

“Leibe, please, at least try and have some fun” your father begged you as he walked you down the hallway to the party for under 18’s. You huffed a little, and felt grateful you’d managed to smuggle a copy of your favourite book in that little baguette bag slung from your shoulder. “You never know, maybe you will meet someone at this party, I know Lew-” You cut your father off with a small laugh and smile “I’ll try Vati, but I’m not going to go about looking for one of your friend’s cute sons! I have to focus on school if I’m going to go to Princeton!”  You cracked a glowy smile at your father and he laughed back, smoothing your hair down with his hands, before giving you a stern look. “Y/N, hand the book over.” You pouted, about to attempt a denial, but when Seb raised his eyebrow, you relented and handed your copy of ‘My Brilliant Friend’ over to your dad, as he kissed your forehead and headed off to the party. 

Meanwhile, over at the karting track nearby, George was whizzing around in his coach Lewis’ old go-kart, with Lewis cheering him on from near where the pitwall usually was. “WHOO! GO RUSSELL! WHAT A LAP KIDDO!!” he claps as the younger boy pulled up to the finish line, detaching the steering wheel so he could jump out. As he ran and hi-fived his coach, a sharp cough filled the air. Valtteri, Lewis’ old teammate and the other man on this trip with them, was stood with his arms folded and a stern expression on his face. “Boys, it is New Years Eve, please can you stop training for one evening and go shower up?” He sighed, walking over to Lewis “Why are you all suited and booted, Bottas?” Lewis laughed, and Valterri gave the boys a little spin “The party, Lewis. George, there’s a kids party downstairs as well!” George scrunched his face up at the Finnish man, now with his blue helmet tucked under a lanky arm.”Young adult party” he corrected himself with a sigh, looking between both Lewis and George. “We didn’t fly all this way for you guys to race the whole time. We can do that at home.” Both the Mercedes boys hung their heads and nodded, walking off to their chalet to get cleaned up for parties they didn’t want to be at.

At the kids young adults party, cheesy pop music blared over the speakers as teens from all over the racing series played games, talked, laughed and ate. Esteban and Pierre were arguing over a foosball table, Yuki was eating every sandwich he could find, and Lando was DJing a load of karaoke over a headset and mic in his DJ merch. Kimi and Ollie, two Formula 2 drivers, had just finished up a duet of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ by Whitney Houston, as the crowd clapped. You ignored the roar of the music and laughed, sat on a couch, watching everything unfold in front of you, while pulling the blue cardigan your Vati had bought for you up over your shoulders, ready to make your escape. “Not bad for a couple of drivers, huh?” Lando hollered, messing with his lighting rig a little.

“Now, who’s gonna rock the house next next?” he asked, jumping up on a small box to scan the room better, as you struggled to think what to do, and he moved his light towards the doorway of the room. George quickly covered his face with his arm, yet felt himself dragged by another driver up to a small stage, and having a microphone thrust into his hands. You were dragged up too, a microphone flung at you, almost slipping out of your sweaty hands. How on earth could this happen to you!? Or this awfully attractive boy you’re now stood next toYou looked up at the taller man, both confused as each other, the sheen of  teenage awkwardness covering both of your foreheads.

“Y’know, you guys might thank me for this later” Lando winks, to the reception of an unimpressed you and George. He slinks back behind the DJ rig and sighs “Or not…” and starts the track. You and the boy stare at each other as the opening piano notes play. You were more so staring at those beautiful blue eyes, connecting the freckles across his nose like constellations, looking at his perfectly formed cupids bow, when all of a sudden-

“Living in my own world

Didn't understand

That anything can happen

When you take a chance”

Oh boy, he has the face and voice of an angel. You made the decision quick and pulled the microphone to your lips ready for your part. There went nothing…

“I never believed in What I couldn't see

I never opened my heart (Oh)

To all the possibilities”

George felt his heart skip beats, the sound of his pulse rushing through his ears and the blood into his face. Thump-thump, thump-thump. Not only did this random girl he’d been pulled into some sort of karaoke fanfiction with LOOK like a princess, but she had the most beautiful voice and the confidence to actually sing with him. He had never believed in love at first sight, but he thought, perhaps love at first note could be real.

“I know that something has changed

Never felt this way, and right here tonight

This could be the start of something new

It feels so right to be here with you (oh)

And now looking in your eyes

I feel in my heart (feel in my heart)

The start of something new”

You loosed up a little, taking the claw clip out of your hair and letting it flow freely, framing your face and making George flush a baby pink in the cheeks.

Thump-thump, thump-thump

His pulse quickened as you moved closer, hips gently swaying to the sweet sound of your harmonies, and he tried to keep himself in check as the song progressed. 

“Now who'd have ever thought that

We'd both be here tonight

And the world looks so much brighter

With you by my side

I know that something has changed

Never felt this way

I know it for real”

You just glowed as you sung, sort of enjoying the anonymity of no one in the room seeming to recognise you, despite your father’s name. And George could tell you glowed, he spent all your solo parts scanning your frame, to find not a single flaw in his eyes. You were some sort of fairytale princess, singing him these sweet siren songs and making him forget the stress of the track, of Coach Hamilton’s emphasis on the upcoming races, and of his entire career as a racer. 

It was you. him, and the music.

“This could be the start of something new

It feels so right to be here with you (oh)

And now looking in your eyes

I feel in my heart

The start of something new”

And unbeknownst to him, you felt the same. No more swirling equations in your head, no more maths tests or Princeton or college entrance papers. Just this mysterious young man with the floppy curtains, slender frame, and glassiest blue eyes. And his voice, dulcet and warm, like ginger and honey tea on a winter’s morning. You pondered Lando’s words in your head:

 “Y’know, you guys might thank me for this later”

And thought, maybe he was right. Maybe you would.

“I never knew that it could happen till it happened to me

I didn't know it before

But now it's easy to see

It's the start of something new

It feels so right to be here with you

And now looking in your eyes I feel in my heart

That it's the start of something new

It feels so right to be here with you

And now looking in your eyes I feel in my heart

The start of something new (The start of something new)

The start of something new”

The music faded out as you and George stood looking into each other's eyes, a cheer spreading across the room, accompanied by the sound of claps and hollers from the crowd of teens. He smiled, and ran his hand through his hair “George. And you?” You smile back, blinking softly and quietly responding “Y/N”

You both found yourself sat outside after a while, escaping the music an the dancing just before midnight, “You were AMAZING Y/N!” The Brit, as you had learned from the accent, enthused. “You gotta be a singer, surely?” You chuckle, and follow his lead, guided by his soft hands, to a balcony “Only church choir, and even then I almost fainted!” The Brit laughed, and blushed at the gentle grip of your hand, feeling the edge of your nail dig into his vein ever so slightly. “Well, you were amazing, Y/N” He chirps, standing with you, overlooking the snowy mountains to the tune of faded voices, and the low whirr of the ski lift in the distance.

As you both looked over the balcony, George turned and grabbed his phone out of his pocket, still talking as he did so “So, Y/N, I was wondering if I could get your numb-” He trailed off as he looked up, only to realise you had vanished while he was pulling his phone out. Not that you’d wanted to, of course. But you’d promised your father you’d be back in the cabin by midnight, so you’d slinked away while George was distracted, the thought of your new school year buzzing in your mind. Besides, it’s not like you’d see the handsome stranger again. 

Right?

[pleasantglitterflower]

Heart Podium (Joe Burrow x OC x Max Verstappen)

Many times our childhood dreams cannot be realized, due to our overly fertile imagination, many times our professional childhood dreams cannot be realized either, either due to the delay in getting a place at the university we dreamed of or the lack of opportunities when it comes to working in the arts or sports. 

There's always plan b.

Kayleigh was one of those kids, it's true that dreaming of being a Backyardigan was difficult, but she was left with plan b, a plan that was broadcast every Sunday before the NFL, her father would have lunch, afternoon snack and dinner on the same channel, watching the drivers and then the Cleveland Browns, his favorite team in the state. 

That was the most exciting thing Kayleigh had in her childhood, watching Formula One followed by a good Browns game, arriving at school and eagerly wanting to talk to someone, but the girls didn't like the subject and asked to talk about something else and the boys laughed at her.

Leaving her and her mom's cookies in the stands.

Until one day she plucked up the courage and asked her father to play go-kart, finding a track in the state of Ohio in 2004, it wasn't the easiest task in the world, but he managed it and little by little, it went from being a joke to a serious thing.

Until high school came and she discovered that there were two ways to get into college: she had to be very smart or know how to play some sport, in 2011 in the United States, go-kart doesn't really mean a sport, far from it.

Not knowing what to do, she decided to confront her parents in her first year.

Not wanting to do anything, since it wouldn't help her with her possible future career was a very risky step.

For her parents, it's not even worth mentioning, they wanted to freak out, exchanging the stability of a degree for a go-kart race, for them it's crazy, especially when they've always prepared themselves financially for it, when they always prepared for her to enter university, which is not the cheapest thing,and it was in these uncertainties and in the midst of this conflict of whether or not to go to college that she tried to get interested in more conventional sports.

But when she tried out, she was terrible at soccer, average at lacrosse, slow at basketball, tough at gymnastics, shy at cheerleading, short at volleyball, afraid of water when swimming and she's a girl, she couldn't play American football.

It was during one of these that she found herself making a fuss.

-You're going to regret it, you know, you're losing the best wide receiver the world has ever seen -  She yelled.

One of the guys looked at her in fright, while others wondered who she was.

-You know you were running for the cornerback spot, right? A blond guy tells her.

-Yeah, I know, that's exactly why - She sighs tiredly.

-Because you came to try for the spot right here, you know they don't choose girls easily.

-I’ve tried everywhere, I came here just to cause trouble, I had nothing to do” She confesses, leaving him confused.

-Really?

-Yes-They end up laughing.

-You don’t like a specific sport, maybe if you try there you’ll do better, maybe explain to the coach that you like it and want to learn and she’ll let you stay-He suggests.

-I like watching, but not putting it into practice, I’m doing this more so my parents can see that I’m not good, I already know I’m not good-She sighs.

-I’m sorry-He gives her a half smile, until she feels a crack.

-Geez, I haven’t tried baseball yet-she remembers and gets up, leaving the equipment there.

-They don’t accept girls either-He reminds her.

-That’s exactly why-Kayleigh laughs.

-By the way, what's your name?-She stops, holding the door.

-I'm Joseph-he says shyly.

-I'm Kayleigh, see you soon, Joseph.

And yes, she tried baseball, but the first time she held the bat, it ended up between the legs of the boy next to her, who fell to the ground groaning in pain.

Kayleigh was thrown out.

Fate was cruel to her when it came to sports, but it only reinforced the idea that she had to continue in karting.

After meeting Joseph, she would see him someday, as she thought, but she would see him every day, until the prom, when after two years together, she finally realized that they would have to separate by force,and how that hurt, not only for her but for him too.

-I can’t believe you’re going to Europe, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m going to tell Ohio State to go fuck itself, I’ll go with you wherever you have to go, but I don’t want to be away from you.-His cheeks already reddened from the cold, he said.

-Stop saying that, you’ve been given an incredible opportunity, you have to take advantage of it.-She tried to convince him.

-But I can’t imagine being away from you.-Hearing that, she lay down on his lap.

-We’ll get through this, you’ll see, and we’ll be strong.

The first year away was the hardest, not only for Joseph, but for her parents too, because seeing their daughter try to make a living racing karts, traveling all over Europe, was something that made them so proud, but at the same time so apprehensive.The second year seemed to be easier. They were already well accustomed to the routine of video calls, social media, messages, letters. They sent polaroids to hang up. Once, Joseph even caught himself putting his perfume on the paper to make sure she could smell him. They exchanged gifts, everything.

Until the careers arrived on television, Joseph could sit down and look for the channel to watch her and she could pick up the phone and watch the college divisionals.The fifth year passed, the sixth too, and then the seventh, when Joe finally took off in his career in American football, being drafted by the Cincinnati Bengals.

And the following year, Kayleigh did what she never imagined she would be able to do: she reached Formula One, after almost dying waiting for this event. Of course the party was huge, she returned to her country with all possible honor, suddenly a little girl from Ohio was going to compete for a title for a team and everyone wanted to know what this little girl does and better, where are the American boys who are not having the same prominence?But she could never say that it had any real effect on the American public. Formula One is still a playboy thing for them, to the point where they even consider golf a more accessible sport.

Just as she was there for Joe's big debut, he was there for his big debut, of course,but their contracts ended up preventing more contact. They had to train, they had to focus, they couldn't travel long distances or do physical work before their work, and they also couldn't be too far away from their work.

It allowed them to spend a few moments together. She would catch his last games if he made the playoffs and he would catch her first races,so much time apart didn't make their love diminish. On the contrary, seeing each other's achievements seemed to only strengthen their love for each other.And even without knowing, there was someone who was not at all happy with this growing love.

-Joe said he'll call me soon.-She jumps around the room excitedly, waiting for someone to call her to give her the prize.

-Hmm- Max makes an annoyed face, leaving his helmet on the stand.

-That's cute, it's the middle of the night in the United States, isn't it?-Carlos asks her, all smiles.

-Yes, it's the middle of the night and he stayed up.-She doesn't hide her smile.

-Really the last of the romantics.-Max rolls his eyes.

-Stop being annoying, she's so happy.-Carlos watches her like a doting father.

Max glares at him, enough for the Spaniard to avoid him and stay quiet.

And of course, the next day, as always happens after every race, Joe sends her a huge bouquet, with a dedication and, when he is present, romantic letters.For most people around him, it is just his European or rather, Dutch humor.

But for those who actually live with him and see the mistakes he makes and notices, the way he treats her when she talks about other things and when she talks about Joe, they understand very well.

Max messed up her hair, trying to free her mind from those thoughts, from that feeling, but realized it was difficult.After another podium with her, another trip to a random bar with everyone involved, the country's biggest celebrities and everything else, he could no longer stand two things.

The first, Charles flirting even with the walls of the place.

The second, the fact that she trusted George more than him, to tell him the reason for her 37th breakup with Joe.

-I honestly don't understand you guys, one moment you say that distance is good, the next you break up because of distance, make up your mind damn it-George, tired of the situation, slammed his hand on the table.He fixed his hair, looked around and composed himself.

-Sorry man, I got carried away-He spoke like most people do sometimes, treating her like a man.

-I know it's not the most normal thing to do, but it tires me out-She said finally, she didn't want to waste her friend's night with this, much less make him occupy his mind with his problems.

She went to the bar to order another drink, without realizing who was next to her.

-Did you bump into something?-She heard someone ask and then looked to the side to see Max.

-What do you mean?-She immediately became confused.

-Your leg is kind of purple,-he says.

-Oh, let's just say I might have fallen on my suitcase- She rolls her eyes.

-It's the third time this season.-He holds back his laughter.

-She goes everywhere and sometimes it happens.-She shrugs.

-Your suitcase can make you more purple than your boyfriend, I think it's time to trade him for her.-Max takes a sip of his drink, savoring every note of it, satisfied with yet another mean comment about Joe. He knows how distance affects him and that's nothing more than a psychological game, sending indirect messages that hurt.

As always, she remained silent, discreetly observing her leg and trying to cover the bruise, with her face reddened.

-I can't blame him, he's going after his dream." She answers for the first time, even if a while later and too quietly, as if she wasn't even there anymore.

Until the girl asks herself, why is Max worried about this?

For a second, Max almost misses the destination of the glass, looking at her.

-Really, there are men whose only dream is to chase a ball, not to have trophies and a woman who loves him.-He takes the opportunity to retort.

-Thanks for ruining the rest of my night, Max, you're always so sensitive.-She answers, choked, finishes her drink and walks towards the exit with long strides.

Max remains there at the bar, staring at the various bottles, some full, others half full, thinking that once again she leaves angry with him, because he doesn't defend her dear Joe.

-You don't have to be so rude all the time, I know you're used to guys around here, but you have to realize that there are girls around here now and they deserve to be treated with kindness and affection, did you know that women are people too?Lewis appears at her side, irritated by the situation.

-Have you stopped talking, Lewis Senna Hamilton?He scoffed.

Max was already drunk enough to almost drag himself back to the hotel.

And even after spending the next few hours thinking about whether or not to knock on her door, as he always does when he’s drunk, he decided it wasn’t the right time.

When he woke up with the sun and that strange feeling, since that’s usually when he goes to sleep, thanks to the jet lag, he allowed himself the luxury of staying a few more minutes in that comfortable bed, under all those sheets, grabbing the fluffiest of his pillows to hug, trying to get it into his head that he was hugging her, trying to get it into his mind that he woke up next to her that morning, it seems he was so used to doing this every morning that with each passing day, the images became clearer in his mind and the sensations stronger.

And for the next race he had a surprise, he jumped out and took off his helmet and head protector, looking in disbelief at the smiling couple on the sidelines watching the track.

-Joe, should I congratulate you or say my condolences? Max gives his best sarcastic smile.

-I don't understand- Joe's radiant smile fades.

-What do you expect from a player? Max grumbles, he had meters around to pass and reach his destination, a screen to review his training, but he made sure to pass between the two, bumping into Joe.

He placed his helmet on the table next to him, silently completing the malicious thought, about his possible dubious qi, when he saw Joe approaching through the shadow on the ground, his smile only grew wider.

Kayleigh decided to leave, aware that they would have some kind of argument.

-I don't understand your stubbornness, Max- Joe confessed, watching Max from a few inches away.

-I say it over and over again, what can you expect from a player? Max rolls his eyes.

-And what are you, don’t you play in this?Joe retorts.

-I’m a pilot, it’s different-he says, convinced.

On the side of the track, tired and just waiting for time to pass, the topic, as always, was just one.

-Max is PMSing- Lando comments while sitting on the floor.

-We should take up a collection and pay a gynecologist, so she can prescribe some medicine, I don’t know- Hulkenberg adds.

-I think what he needs is a psychiatrist, one minute he’s calm, the next he wants to kill you, he’s crazy- Lewis concludes.

-He just needs some time to calm down, recharge his batteries and rest- George defends him.

But he ends up getting angry looks from everyone.

-For this and other reasons, I stay away from that snake pit they call Red Bull, God forbid I have to deal with that creature - Charles says, looking disdainfully at their reserved space.

-No offense, Kay- He makes his observation.

-No offense, I can't stand it anymore- She confesses.

-Not even Kayleigh throws this tantrum when she's on her period, honestly we don't even know when that happens, thanks for sparing us- Lando thanks her, making her laugh.

-I think there are certain details that aren't necessary- She comments.

Max walks past the group with firm steps.

-No one moves their ass in this place, then they complain about the podium- He sends the indirect message with his angry eyes.

Everyone there exchanges glances.

-Hold the Japanese- Ricciardo warns.

-Why? Charles finds the request strange.

-I’m warning you, hold the Japanese guy-he repeats.

And indeed, poor Tsunoda is at breaking point with Max.

Joe left, but Max’s sourness didn’t.

During breakfast at the hotel, Pierre’s strawberries were more sour than expected.

-Her boyfriend leaves and doesn’t get a bruise on his neck, he’s a real wimp- Max grumbles, savoring his waffles.

George’s eyes widen, he wipes his mouth with the napkin next to him.

-Max, how rude. He glances at Max out of the corner of his eye.

But Pierre has the most priceless face, he looks like he’s eaten something spoiled.

-Jesus, you weirdo, who says that, keeps an eye on others, has he become a tax inspector now? He left his comment.

-Watch out guys, there are people watching our necks- Lando dramatically covers his with his sweatshirt.

-I think you should start thinking about where and when you say certain things, Max- Carlos warns him, earning his laugh.

-Why? Do you know anything?” The Dutchman stared at him.

-Common sense Max, just common sense- he retorted.

-That was ridiculously sexist, Max, if that’s what you say, imagine what you think- Lewis gives him his best disapproving look.

-Have you finished your testimony Lewis?Max provokes him.

Max’s life became increasingly complicated there, with the boys and his provocations, little by little choosing to be alone, but not as much as Kayleigh's, who, in addition to having to put up with his mood swings, also has to put up with Joe's suspicions.

His jealousy used to have no name, but now it has a first and last name. Kayleigh only sees one reason for it, the fact that they work together, nothing else could make sense, andexplaining it doesn't seem to help, Joe found himself wondering why they exchanged smiling handshakes live, if she hates him so much.

-Do you really think that after the race, I'll remember how much I hate him? Of course not, Joe. I just think that I won or that I need to improve, hug everyone involved and leave. - She explains, pacing back and forth across the room.

-I don't want to be the annoying guy, but he doesn't look like he hates you, he seems to take advantage of your innocence. - Joe says almost desperately.

-What innocence, Joe? - She asks him.

-Kay, I don't want to fight over this guy. I'm just saying that this isn't something that makes me comfortable. You're walking around half the world with them in a place full of men working, next to several men, and that bothers me. Not only because of jealousy, I don't know, maybe they'll try to do something to you. -

-Jesus, Joe, don't say something like that. I understand your side, okay. I'm not saying you're wrong, but you need to trust me. I won't betray your trust. I haven't done that in all these years. Why would I do it now? - She tries to calm him down.

-Sorry for stressing you out. - He sighs heavily.

And it's been like this for a while.

Even when they're not at work, free to visit somewhere, Max seems to show up in the same place as her or simply in a place nearby, which makes Joe even more suspicious.

But Max couldn't stop there. When he saw her calmly standing there taking some notes, Max approached her with the excuse of seeing what she was writing down and it was then that he took the opportunity to bring his face too close to hers, which left her somewhat speechless. He placed his hand on her hip, giving her a discreet caress.

-Studying for the race, kitten?- He smiled at her reaction, a mix of confusion and embarrassment.

-Sorry Kay, I forget that you're sensitive to male touches. He laughed, leaving her blushing and finally going where he wanted.

She closed her eyes, not liking it at all. His provocations were getting more and more personal with Joe.

Whenever Max managed to get the slightest hint, he would walk away smiling.

But this time, George decided to confront him.

-You should be ashamed of touching women who are in a committed relationship inappropriately- he says, somewhat indignantly.

-Have you had your tea yet, dear English nobleman?" George rolls his eyes.

-Max, I'm serious, that's not cool, it could cause unnecessary confusion- he insists.

-You look so cute saying 'unnecessary'.Max laughs at the guy, who decides to get more serious.

-When Joe gets pissed off and comes to punch you in the face, don't tell me I never warned you.

-Before he punches me in the face, he'll punch you in the face, because you're the little friend who's always around, hugging and advising when they break up. Do you really think he's going to come after me, George?

-I'm in a committed relationship, I've never done this with bad intentions. He doesn't like the accusation.

-Wow, now I'm confused, is this a swing or a threesome? Max laughs to himself.

George stopped walking at the same moment, offended and even more shocked by another accusation.

When he realized it, Max took a few steps back and ruffled his hair.

-Just kidding, George, you're so cute.

But even his happiest days get bad when he sees the two of them together on social media, kisses, dates, more kisses. Max is sure that if Joe knew how jealous he is of him, for being able to love the woman he loves, he would definitely dig a hole to the center of the earth and stay there, far from Max's eyes.

He has thought countless times about using Joe's number saved on his phone, to send some manipulated photo or one that would have a double meaning, but knowing the two of them, he believes that even that would be reason to break up and get back together after a few days.

But it's these photos, the flowers, the letters, her giggles in the corners of the hotel, that make him freak out when he shouldn't. After being next to her in one of the endless meetings and noticing his new gift, a ring on her finger, that was enough for Max to find any reason to start stomping his feet and shouting. And sometimes he even measures her before the race, in the best possible way, as if he were casting a curse on her. -Damn, did you two fight? The boy asks her. -Honestly, I don't know, he left the meeting shouting, now he just looks at me like that. She sighs tiredly. At one of the parties, thanks to Charlie, he can talk to her a little. -You know, girls, sometimes we reach 200 kilometers per hour.He boasts, the trio of friends start drooling in French. -You could say that I am speed. He gives her his most seductive smile.

Max denied it and snorted.

-If I say something like that, I'll get a restraining order.- He takes a good sip of his drink.

-Also, with a sensitive mood like that, you can be sure that many would be afraid. She teased.

-So I don't have a chance? He used his playful tone.

-You're quite cheeky, you know. She lightly took his hand as a quick friendly caress, more for his level of need, that wasn't just a caress.

Max took her hand, lifting it and bringing it to his lips, finally leaving a caress there.

She was embarrassed, but she couldn't see any harm in anything Max did; for her, that was just an apology for the previous treatment.

But from that day on, it could be said that Max started to look at her more, in increasingly shameless ways.

Once again, with a podium in his hands, he waited for her, making sure to catch her eyes, just so she could see him measuring her completely, and she could see that it really affected her.

Or another time, when she was already embarrassed by him staring at her, while she watched the screen with the replay of some moments of the race, he caressed her face, giving her a wink.

She certainly doesn't know what to do with that.

Joe can't dream of that, while Max seems to love it.

But what she didn't expect was for someone to tell Joe about the flirting and say that she is increasingly cornered by the situation.

Unfortunately for Joe, in the middle of his season and fortunately for Max, in the middle of Joe's season.

One day after getting out of the car, Max was waiting for her, not giving her much space to walk away, the girl took off her helmet without knowing what that was, does he want to solve something? Are they going to slap each other or something like that? She wondered.

-How are you, Max? She looked at him.

-You were amazing, you know that? He spoke softly, raising his hands again to her hips and patting them a few times.

-Thanks, I have to go - she said, without giving Max any space. He wanted to know how she was when her only option was to be ridiculously close to him.

The group was confused, to say the least, they didn't know what the hell was going on and what the atmosphere was like.

As Max walked away with firm steps, when he saw that she was far away, he decided to try to get along with the Red Bull team.

-Sometimes I forget that she's not a guy - he laughed for no reason, but he's not like the other boys, who really do forget that she's the woman there. Max remembers who she is every second.

But Joe's situation is nothing that a phone call can't solve.

-Joe, I don't understand who told you that? He asked.

-Someone I trust- Joe justifies himself.

-Joe, I'm going to be honest, if I had the chance to sleep with her, you can be sure I would have done it already, as many times as I could and you can be sure that every time I lie down in my bed, I wonder why it hasn't happened yet and guess what, it's your fault- Max decides to be honest just to hear what Joe has to say.

-You're really brave to say something like that, you know? You know what, I'm going to kill you- Joe gets upset enough for Max to have some difficulty understanding what he's saying, the Dutchman gave his best laugh.

-You know, just a simple touch on her hip makes her all embarrassed, it makes me wonder how long it's been since she's been with a real man, but apparently I don't think that's ever happened, especially since she's only been with you- He continued his provocations.

-Joe, it's really cool that you're the cute guy who gives flowers after every race, gives gifts, writes letters, but if I were you I'd start to worry, because there are a lot of people watching her and I'm one of those people- Joe snorted from the other side.

-Because you can be sure that if I were her boyfriend, her legs wouldn't need a stupid touch to go weak, a simple look would be enough to make her remember a lot of things, things like that my friend, let's be honest, we're among friends here, you don't- Max stabbed the last time, hearing a sound of something breaking and he was sure it wasn't a glass but the phone.

Kayleigh almost didn't find out anything, they both avoided the subject just waiting for the other to tell.

But as the races went by, the atmosphere between Max and her seemed increasingly confused.

With the end of another race, Max lifted her up in a hug that at the moment, out of joy, she didn't stop to think about everything that was happening, but Joe did.

-The thing is, if it were me, it wouldn't be just fucking work- Joe shouted loud enough for her to have to pull the phone away from her ear.

-It was just a hug Joe, we've been together for I don't know three, four years, we work side by side, I understand your jealousy, don't think I don't understand, I do understand and in your place I would be like that too, I'll talk to him okay, I promise I'll talk to him and we'll work this out- She tries to calm him down having this idea.

-Kayleigh Hawkins I trust you, please don't make me lose that trust in you, I love you regardless of whether we can't spend a month together without breaking up, I don't know what I would do without you- He asks sighing heavily on the other side.

-I never did anything to make you doubt me, you know that Joe, if I didn't like you, I wouldn't be with you until today, swallowing all these breakups, just promise me that you'll calm down, okay? I love you - She says finally.

She went to sleep and tried to calm her mind, she needed to be calm and talk to Max the right way, she knows how he is, even if she's a little uncomfortable with all this extra contact they're having, there's no reason to do this to Joe, to let him suffer with a situation that's already driving him crazy, he's far away and the only thing she can do is trust that they're telling him the truth.

She got ready, took pictures with everyone who asked and went into the nightclub, this time looking for Max, the first thing she thought would be that he'd be at the bar, as he always does, but nothing.

She spotted George and it doesn't hurt to try.

She nudged him lightly so that he would lean in without leaving the circle of conversation.

-Have you seen Max? She asks him.

-Thank God I haven't seen Satan today. I heard he came to Earth in the body of this Max guy, but honestly I think Max is the one possessing the devil. George turns back to the group of friends. Okay, that's not the information she wanted to hear today.

She asked Lando the question, indiscreetly interrupting him and a girl she doesn't know, earning a free kick.

-Man, I haven't seen him - Pierre says, already out of habit in the male environment.

She sighs, imagining two hypotheses: either he's hiding out with some girls or he's gone back to the hotel.

She quickly makes sure to send a message to Joe, saying that he's definitely with some woman and that she's going to wait a little longer to look for him again. She rolls her eyes at having to do that, still feeling like she's going to be really embarrassed.

She picked up her drink and decided to walk around again until she saw him walking outside with his glass and sitting alone at a table.

She hurried, she needed to be quick, she didn't want anyone to arrive in the middle of the process.

When she walked through the door, it was clear that he found it strange that she went there, he gave her a small smile that was returned.

-Can I sit here? She politely asked for one of the empty seats.

He put his hands under the armrest of his chair with a big smile.

-You can sit wherever you want.

-Okay - she mumbled tensely.

-What do you need? He asked her, making her a little embarrassed.

If he was having a bad day, it could get even worse, so she decided to be as cautious as possible.

-Joe talked to me yesterday, he was a little upset about our hug, he got jealous of you and you know, I don't want that to get in the way of anything, not you, me or him, so if you could reduce the physical contact it would be a big help. She smiles nervously.

Joe said he's jealous? he asks with the same apathetic expression.

It was then that his laughter startled her.

-Yeah, I know, it's irrational. She quickly agrees, starting to lose her voice and blush with embarrassment, she didn't need to be making such a fool of herself, she thought.

Max froze when he heard that and with his best ironic tone, asked her to continue.

-We've known each other for years, we work together on the same team, it's crazy to say this, I'm really sorry for this boring conversation, but I promised him I'd talk to you, you know- she's already preparing for the next kick, he'd probably say it's a favor not to have to hug her and that would be the kindest thing she could imagine that could come out of his mouth.

-First of all, I'm an educated man, so I wouldn't be talking nonsense, smiling, complimenting, or any of that crap to someone I'm not interested in. We both know you're smart, you don't need to force it so much. She's in a mix of understanding and not understanding.

He looks at her and realizes he's only confused her even more.

-Tell your boyfriend, if he's jealous, he'll have to have the balls to come here to solve it - Max says, enjoying the situation.

-This will create an unnecessary situation, you know, you don't need all this for a misunderstanding- she explains again.

-Let me explain something to you, since you didn't have the tact to notice, from the damn moment I met you, well before I knew that this idiot was your boyfriend, I was already in love with you and something stopped me from talking to you, my girlfriend. Now I'm single and nothing stops me from talking to you. Are you going to say you never noticed? Her feet fell, as she tried to reason, she felt a cold hand go up her thigh. She froze there, not knowing what to do, looking at Max who had the most peaceful expression in the world.

She looked down, seeing the hem of her loose black dress rising higher and higher, exposing the area. She couldn't understand how Max, who distributes rudeness, now had a hand on her thigh. She delicately brought her hand to meet his, making eye contact with him again, but when she thought she would stop her hand, she only made him squeeze the spot and get even closer to where he shouldn't.

-Max I think you- She prepares to get up, but he is faster.

-Sit down, we're not done talking - he uses his most gentle tone, but even so it's hard to say anything.

-That idiot Joe has even threatened to kill me, you know, because he knows that I like you and I made one thing clear to him and now it's going to be clear to you, the only thing I need is for you to say yes, you know where my room is, it's always next to yours, it's not hard to find, when you get tired of this idiot you can knock on my door. - He walks away.

-That's not how it works, it's not about getting tired of my boyfriend -She is cut off.

-I don't know how and what you like about him, so yes, it's a matter of getting tired of him

Even with the shock, she stayed quiet and didn't say anything to anyone, she thought that would make things easier, but everything got worse with Max.

Now besides being a sweetheart, he's simply everywhere.

This includes grabbing her hand when she is focused on the training screens, indiscreetly measuring her and, what has caught the team's attention the most, the number of times he touches her hair.

On another day, finishing some notes about the current track, she doesn't know when he appeared, but he started massaging her shoulders, slowly moving up to her neck. The first thing she did was cough to discreetly send him away, which didn't help.

-You need to relax, Kay, you're too tense - he says quietly.

One of the guys on the team walked by them.

-I'm enjoying seeing you helping each other, Red Bull spirit - the guy leaves smiling.

-Max, that's enough, you're going too far -she says through clenched teeth.

-That's my specialty. He laughed, one of his arms serving as support so he could slide his hand down her spine as far as he could reach, slowly moving up, noticing her held breath.

-You need to relax, why don't you take a deep breath and let my hands help you?He suggested.

-I need you to stop with the double-meaning jokes - She asked.

He didn't answer, he just brought his fingers to the back of her neck, massaging the tips of them and moving down a little, he got as close as the backless bench would allow, pressing her head against his torso, and finally sliding his fingers from her jaw until they almost reached her lap.

-And what kind of massage is this? Can you explain it to me? She asked reluctantly.

-A casual massage, like any other, I think that massage is more about touching someone's skin until you see relaxation appear, and that angle of you is wonderful - He teased, aware that with the force used there it would be difficult for her to move.

-Max, I didn't know you could give a massage - Lando shouts from outside.

-That's great for those who wear a helmet.

-I'll have one - Lando says, and Charles agrees next to him.

-Me too.

-Sure, boys. I'll be right there when I'm done. He smiles at the two of them, who continue on their way.

-Why aren't you writing it down? Did you forget what you wanted? He gives his most fake tone of concern.

But by giving her the massage right there, he makes it difficult for her to say anything.

He then gently lowers his fingers and finishes, bending down a little so that he's at the height of her neck.

-Stop pretending you didn't like it. Considering that you're dating Joe and how much your skin is crawling, I think you should go to the bathroom and get yourself together - he pats her shoulder.

-It's great to see how satisfying these hands are, not just on the steering wheel. He laughs, walking away and giving her another wink. Kayleigh closed the notebook, wanting to bury her face in the ground. This can't be happening. Max can't be serious. But he is very serious and to make the test complete, he decided to tease her with a little more than words. The situation has already escalated to a point where she doesn't know if she can keep denying it and, worse, what to say to Joe when he calls at the end of the day and she has the same scared expression. Suddenly, the guy who was a jerk to everyone has become an angel with her and, on top of that, says he's in love with her, to the point of making a scene. The point is, she doesn't know how far he's going with the description, but Max knows well.

Tsunoda, who is next to the two, was a bit embarrassed by his face towards her and hers towards the floor. He doesn't know if coughing would help to start a conversation or if anything else, the atmosphere around them became unpleasant and even tense. 

She was grateful when she saw Carlo approaching, smiling as always, and greeted everyone, but before they could say anything. 

-We would make a beautiful couple, wouldn't we? He points at her, who freezes in disbelief. 

-Isn't she with Joe? Carlos asks. 

-I didn't ask about him, I'm talking about us. Tsunoda and Sainz stare at each other, not knowing what to say, along with her, who has wide eyes. 

-Of course, they would be great, she's very pretty and you - Carlos is cut off. 

-Really, she's beautiful. Max gives his best smile to Kay, who pretends not to have heard anything.

-I heard Lando calling me, bye guys. He left in a hurry without looking back. It didn't matter that they must have been there for an event or something, he would arrive at the last minute and that was it.

But her destination ended up being the same as his.

Max took advantage of the hotel corridor being empty, to reach her and hug her body from behind, holding her. Kay moved, trying to get out of the tight spot, and then Max decided to play it low, going up to her neck and nibbling it.

-Can't you see that it's crowded here, can't you see that this is going to hurt me? She asked him irritably, trying to stop him from continuing to caress her.

-You said that I always mistreated you, I'm just treating you the way I should, making my interests obvious to everyone. He replied.

And then only two breaths were heard in the hallway, Max continued the attack on her neck, sliding his hand until he reached the hem of the woman's pants where she quickly grabbed him.

-Are you going to run away again? You know that the more you run the better it is for me, because then I'll feel like I've won you over. He then released her, turning her to face him.

When he realized, he was against a wall in one of the many empty hallways, Max brought his hand to her face, squeezing her cheeks.

-Do you know how much it hurt me to spend four years of my life, seeing you with that clown, while you were always by my side? Do you know what it's like to see him deliver flowers, letters and then suddenly it all ends, you feel hope, then you come back and all this repeats itself over and over again, meanwhile, I'm the guy who's always here, do you know how horrible that is? He asked her somewhat irritated, not with her anymore, but with the situation.

-Not even when you were hospitalized after a crash, he showed up, like a good teammate I went there, do you understand now how much I need you to dump him and let me make you truly happy? he asked, letting his hand slip.

He steps away slightly, Kay runs her hands through her hair, messing it up, looking to one side nothing but an empty hallway, looking to the other the same and Max in front of her waiting for the answer.

-You guys break up all the damn time, break up with him, spend some time with me and then if you regret it, which I highly doubt, you go back to him. Max waits for her decision, staring at her.

-I can't... he quickly cuts her off.

-You can't throw away your childhood love, a beautiful childhood love that you see for three months and then only next year."

She swallows that.

-I may not be the nicest guy, nor as loved by everyone as he is, but I will be here and I know very well how much you want someone who is here. He gently takes her hand.

-You want someone who will hold your hand, praise you, watch you run, can do something stupid together, someone who understands you, someone who is not so fickle, someone who is here to wake up next to you, who will hug you at night, who can touch you and he can't do any of that but I can and I want to. The distance between the two became short again until the wall appeared.

Kayleigh took a deep breath and nodded slightly, she was afraid that she was under the effect of his power of persuasion and even more so of those eyes, but she couldn't deny it. She did miss Joe's presence, she loved him, not having him around was always the biggest obstacle.

And this obstacle would only have one solution, one of the two of them giving up their careers.

The fact is that once again they have been separated for a week, but as always she cries on the day and then pretends that nothing happened and they are together.

-We broke up last week - she begins, still thoughtful. -We can try, but I don't want anyone to know, because if nothing works out, I don't want it to become a mess, or for anyone to talk about it - she asks. -They'll start seeing me smile, it'll be kind of obvious - he approaches. -Are you sure?" He asks cautiously first. -Yes - he agrees. Max presses the elevator button, leaves a hand caressing her ear, preparing to finally kiss her for the first time. Max never hides his desire, much less his rush, but even so, he takes Kayleigh by surprise when he lets his hands roam guiltlessly over her body in that hallway.

He finally felt the weight, anger and hurt of all those years being thrown aside, being extracted from her body, he wouldn't say she wanted to wait so long, but being able to drive Joe crazy, just like he had been all this time was wonderful, now he finally has what he wants, her.

[xdacted]

The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace. 

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better. 

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point. 

It was like losing a piece of myself. 

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did. 

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school. 

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen. 

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything. 

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it. 

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad. 

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name. 

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down. 

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it. 

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world. 

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts. 

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it. 

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch. 

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off. 

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house. 

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them. 

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them. 

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest. 

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us. 

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion. 

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression. 

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks. 

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left. 

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close. 

“Hi,” She whispers back. 

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Is there -?” 

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow. 

What a drama queen. 

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear. 

Hm. How strange. 

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly. 

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me. 

A secret then. 

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong. 

But this - this was different. 

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. 

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling. 

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him. 

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed. 

Maybe I was a bit psychic. 

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand. 

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful. 

A peace that’s so very addicting. 

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic. 

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods. 

Before I know it, they are both standing. 

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement. 

“I told you!” I cry. 

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare. 

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry. 

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory. 

But what a beautiful memory it will be. 

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea. 

It is perfect. It is home. 

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back. 

���What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear. 

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth. 

“What happened?” Carla demands. 

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with. 

I can hardly breathe. 

Anger coils tight within me. 

Fucking vultures. 

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex. 

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own. 

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him. 

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.” 

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room. 

This wasn’t right. 

Summer is our time. 

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away. 

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat. 

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face. 

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles. 

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors. 

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through. 

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn. 

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself. 

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse. 

I take a tentative step forward. 

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful. 

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go. 

My brother is good. 

And the world is cruel. 

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable. 

And Charles. 

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear. 

That Charles. 

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is. 

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them. 

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him. 

I hold him and let him fall apart. 

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him. 

I gesture for him to come and he does. 

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back. 

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does. 

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest. 

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do. 

We always will. 

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

[agendabymooner]

about names: the wingman of maranello || cl16 scenario (2)

dad!charles leclerc x mom!ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENSION OF OF LONG LINES AND NAMES AND THE LECLERC DAYCARE

PART TWO OF ABOUT NAMES SCENARIO SERIES

Summary: The Leclerc boys and their names go hand in hand. OR times when Charles and his wife Aimee had to explain that their children’s names are meaningful. 

Scenario summary: With his brothers coming down to sickness, Jules Leclerc travelled to Italy with his father and Uncle Arthur prior to his next karting event before them as he learned more about the ‘Wingman of Maranello’ — his namesake Jules Bianchi.

Content warning: FLUFF!!!!! What is beta reading we write with no sense of proper grammar or transitions, kids' sickness, heavily mentions Jules Bianchi (+ Jules being a good sport and matchmaker), feel-good vibes, OC (Teague; OFC's relative), Uncle Arthur Leclerc is quite unattentive, possible use of explicit language, poorly translated French and Italian(?)

Note: I have two papers due in the next two weeks lmao. Enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

Charles and Aimee always thought that if it hadn’t been for their jobs, their kids wouldn’t have the chance of catching a case of stomach flu from countless germs in their school. 

They were meant to travel to Italy a week before the eldest Leclerc twins’ karting tournament occurring at the track in Maranello — but it seemed like PJ Leclerc’s class had another plan in mind. Now, two days after his last class of the week, he and his brothers Hervé, Anthoine and Alain (age two) were sulking at home. 

They weren’t allowed to travel to Italy until they felt better — after all, the parents didn’t want to be running around with kids who look sickly and would probably throw up every other minute. 

Hervé, out of the four boys, took that information to heart though. He was supposed to be with his twin brother as he, too, was going to compete in the karting event — with Arthur acting as his coach. He was excited to travel with his Da and Jules, but he started showing signs of a weak stomach. 

Aimee had promised that if he got better before the race they’d be able to travel to where Charles and Jules were. It was just a translation to, “Listen to Maman and drink your tea, eat your soup and take your medicine” but they’d decided to put it in a nicer way to avoid dealing with a stubborn seven year old. 

But as Jules placed his bag down after packing up, Hervé’s scowl turned light. His face was pale, but his face showed a lot about how he felt about his twin leaving.

Neither of the parents were paying attention to the two though. Arthur was somewhere in the house, saying goodbye to his younger nephews PJ and the twins. 

“Mon cœur,” Charles started, making Aimee hum as she washed the soup bowls. There was no right time to ask his question especially if he asked his wife this but it was a shot worth taking. “Since it’s just Artie, J and I heading there for the week I’m thinking—“

“Uh oh, that’s a bad sign,” Aimee joked, now rinsing the dishes. Charles chuckled and rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter next to the sink and his wife. He proceeded with his suggestion.

“What if we took the Pista to Maranello instead?” 

It was like his world stopped. Quite literally. 

Turning off the tap, Aimee’s grin faded as she scowled heavily in the direction of her husband. Charles’s usually widened eyes shrunk small as Aimee continued to bore her eyes into his pair. 

It was a bad idea to bring up his sports car overall.

With a scoff, she then said, “I want you to say those words slowly and understand what you just said.”

“Okay…” He nodded.

“Then I want you to think about how stupid that sounds,” Aimee smiled grimly. Yikes. He was a footstep away from being banished from his own bedroom. 

“Okay,” he said regardless.

“Don’t be stupid,” Aimee warned him, “you know that the Pista isn’t for the kids.” 

“I know,” Charles told her, his voice now hitting an octave as he defended, “to be fair, I wouldn’t put the kids in your McLaren either.”

“Darling,” Aimee laughed humourlessly, “we were thinking of two different things; I thought that they shouldn’t be allowed to ride it because it’s dangerous and you said that it was a McLaren not a Ferrari. Do you get what I’m saying?” 

“Right, alright,” Charles said with a shrug, “it was just an idea.”

“An idea that isn’t even worth looking at,” Aimee shook her head, “take the Aston or something— just don’t take any of the two seater ones. Do not ever let Jules sit on Arthur’s lap on a two-seater— he has to have a seat belt, Charles. If I find out that you took either of the Pista or McLaren I will come after your head— and you’re my husband. But I won’t hesitate to be a goddamn Black Widow if—“

“Okay, geez,” Charles interrupted with a roll of his eyes, “don’t need to threaten me. Still your husband, mon cœur.”

“Not going to be anymore if you do what you just said,” Aimee gave him a smile. It was a rather threatening one, and Charles should do anything but contest what he was told. 

Meanwhile Jules stood there and awkwardly patted his brother’s head as he said, “Tu te rendras à la course, Herb.” You’ll make it to the race, Herb.

Hervé grumbled and continued to sulk, “I hope so. Tia said that Louis is going to be there. And je n'aime pas perdre contre Louis.” I don’t like to lose to Louis. 

“Eh,” Jules shrugged nonchalantly, “you know what Maman said once? Uh… don’t take it personal? Is that what she said?” 

Hervé nodded as his twin brother continued, “Louis me taquine aussi. Je m'en fiche parce que maman a dit que je ne devrais pas me soucier des gens qui se moquent de moi. Cela m'empêche seulement d'aller plus vite dans la course.” Louis teases me too. I don’t care much because Maman said I shouldn’t mind people who make fun of me. It only stops me from going faster in the race. 

Despite being a twin, one of the things that differed Jules from Hervé was his level headed trait. It wasn’t as if he never showed any form of emotion to anything worth reacting to, but he seemed to reason more than Hervé. 

Everyone around them was quick to notice this and easily pointed out that he took this rational approach from Aimee, while Hervé got his sensitivity from Charles.

Still, Jules approached things differently than his twin — and his attempt to convince Hervé to see the things he’s seeing was something that most school aged children wouldn’t do. 

“So,” Jules told Hervé, “make it to the race not because of him. Remember! Auntie Vie raced for fun! Not because she wants to fight Uncle Max!” 

“Hm,” Hervé nodded, but kept his head down nonetheless. The eldest Leclerc boy looked up and murmured, “My stomach still hurts, J.” 

“Ah, I’ll tell Maman,” Jules nodded, “why are you up if your stomach hurts anyway?” 

“Alors je peux demander à Maman si je peux venir avec vous les gars,” so I can ask Maman if I can go with you guys. Hervé grumbled, tucking his legs in his hoodie as he groaned. “Ugh.”

A four hour drive to their accommodation in Maranello and a quick trip to the Ferrari headquarters after Charles, Arthur and Jules Leclerc were found in Charles’s in-site office. Or rather, Charles was somewhere in the facility having a meeting with the PR team and Carlos while his son and brother were in his office. 

Jules kept rolling over the chair from the desk to his Uncle Arthur, growing bored of the lack of things to do inside his father’s office. Arthur was just sitting there, his eyes hovering over his phone as he continued to browse through his twitter. 

“Da should have just left me with Maman,” Jules sighed, his head slumped against Charles’s desk.

Arthur hummed, not paying full attention towards the boy as Jules sighed in annoyance. 

Arthur wasn’t paying attention to him and Jules decided to mess with him a little, “Da could just drop me off the street and let me race by myself.” 

Nothing but an utter “Mhm” escaped Arthur’s mouth. 

“I’m bored, Uncle Art.”

Still nada.

“Herb said that he should have had Auntie Vie or Uncle Max coach him instead of you.” 

It was as if Arthur got a whiplash as his mouth gaped open at the boy’s comment. “Jules, is that true?” 

Jules shrugged, “No.”

“Then why say that if it’s not true,” Arthur exclaimed and heaved a sigh dramatically, “you scared me.”

“Because I’m booooored~” Jules whined, spinning himself while he sat on the chair of his father’s office. “Da left me here with nothing!” 

“Tell you what,” Arthur started, “why don’t we take a look around the floor and see if you can find the LaFerrari car to ride in? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to let you borrow it and drive around the office.” 

“Fine~” Jules hopped off the seat, not even bothering to wait for his uncle as he ran out of the office. “Race you to Da!”

“W- Oi! Jules Lorenzo Pascal- agh, wrong- Leclerc!” Arthur grunted before he stood up and ran after the boy. “You lots have a lot of names to even call you by them- Jules! Come back! Charles has a meeting!”

The Ferrari headquarters in Maranello was, no doubt, a place that held a lot of memories for the Leclerc family. Charles’ name was engraved in the wall of fame and Aimee’s family was strongly connected to the Ferraris. Their connections to the team — one that became their family — led them to what they had now. 

Everyone inside the headquarters were fond of the Leclerc boys and Jules was no exception.

For an hour, he’d been going around the office saying hi to everyone and asking about their day — in Italian, as well, to impress them with his ability to speak more than two languages. Then he went around asking about the LaFerrari that his Uncle Arthur mentioned earlier. 

Jules gladly toured the museum with his uncle rather than finding the car he’d asked about, his eyes glimmering at the sight of Niki Lauda’s car and even Enzo Ferrari’s. When they got to Michael Schumacher’s car, however, Jules nearly jumped up and down in excitement. 

His loud excited voice caught the attention of other onlookers in the museum. It was rather funny that he was so excited, because by the time people had approached them the excitement in his features had infected the Ferrari fans as they asked Arthur for photos. 

“Oh, I’ll take the photo!” Jules offered in excitement. 

“Jules no you have to get in the picture,” Arthur kept an arm around the boy and said, “how will people know that there are two handsome Leclerc men roaming around Maranello if you’re out of the picture?” 

And find out, they did. It wasn’t even an hour after when the fans posted their photos on Twitter and became a hit tweet because of the Leclerc boy. What was funnier aside from the caption “I met Jules Leclerc with his relative today” was the result that came with it. 

Charles looked quite frazzled trying to find his kid and when the fans saw the driver they nearly freaked out. Jules merely waved at his father and said, “They said they want some pictures, Da!”

Charles sighed and smiled at the fans lightly, his eyes finding Arthur’s as he warned his brother quietly about letting Jules in the pictures.

Jules was still a child, and taking photos of him without the knowledge of either Charles or Aimee was trouble you’re asking for. 

“Jules,” Charles started as he held the boy’s hand, making their way back to the office after having some photos taken, “Do not go far from the office when Da has a meeting, alright?” 

“But I only went in the museum, Da,” Jules reasoned out, “and Uncle Artie went with me!” 

“Well I’m glad you went with someone,” Charles shrugged, “but there is someone I would like you to meet.” 

“Oh! Cool,” Jules exclaimed. “C'est le père de maman?” Is it Maman’s father? 

Charles and Arthur shared a look over Jules’ head. Yeah no.

The boys had always mentioned that they’ve never met any of their grandfathers before. They understood why their Papy Hervé was not here anymore but Aimee’s father — Julius Hearth — was still alive. How come they’ve never met them? 

“Non, mais il est proche de maman,” No but he is close to Maman. Charles replied quietly, eventually coming to a stop in front of the conference room by the Scuderia Ferrari Team Principal Fred Vasseur’s office. 

Jules stood there, expectantly looking at his father as Charles gestured to the entryway. Stepping inside without looking away from his father, Jules finally looked in front of him as his glimmering eyes turned curious. 

A man sat there. There are some signs of age in his face, but Jules could tell that he was not older than his father. The man’s smile brightened the room, the shade of his skin brightening like the sun. 

Jules looked up at Charles, who only offered him a smile before telling him to keep walking. The man stood and stuck his hand out. 

“Last time I checked, you and Aimee were still new,” the man gave a teasing look to Charles, who only chuckled. His Scottish accent piqued Jules’ interest even more.

His Maman’s accent was different from his and as he continued to think about it, his cousins’ mixture of Austrian and RP accent wasn’t like this either. He’s from a different region, Jules deduced.

The man looked down and crouched, hand still stuck out as he spoke, “My name is Teague. Teague Edmunson. And you are…?”

With a face showing a mixture of curiosity and cautiousness, Jules looked back at Charles who only gave him a go-ahead before the boy reached out to shake the hand of the man and introduced himself, “My name is Jules Leclerc.”

“Ah! Jules?” Teague smiled softly as he gave a nod of approval towards Charles’ direction. “You named him Jules?”

“Yes, we did,” Charles grinned, his hand reaching out to mess with his son’s hair.

“Seems rather fitting,” Teague teased the Ferrari driver, “the Wingman of Maranello… Ah… he made you and Aimee possible after all.”

Jules’s face scrunched up in confusion, watching how his Uncle Arthur giggled and his father’s face flush red.

It was like he missed something. He wasn’t sure what but the way his Da’s turn red told him enough about asking him about the matter later.

“I’m sorry, mister,” Jules piped up, making the men look down at him with questioning looks. He proceeded to look at the man who introduced himself as Teague and asked, “My Da said that you know my Maman well. Can I ask what you are to her?”

“Jules,” Arthur called, “do you know one of your Maman’s last names?”

The boy shook his head, making Teague laugh quietly and answer with, “Edmunson, Little Bianchi.”

“You said that is your name,” Jules pointed out, making Teague nod. “So… if Maman’s name is Edmunson then you are her… brother?”

“Well… Not quite,” Teague shook his head before elaborating, “I’m her cousin. Don’t tell me your Maman had never spoken much of me? Charles?”

“Yes we have,” Charles scoffed. But all Jules seemed to have heard was that the man in front of him was his mother’s cousin. Then he recalled that one time he went browsing through his Maman’s childhood photo album.

He saw his aunts in those photos and even his Uncles Max and Lando. He knew that some of them grew up together, but there was one person that Jules once pointed out and it was a boy with a darker shade of skin and curly hair. The boy that he saw was sitting next to his Maman. 

Suddenly it all made sense to him. Aimee once introduced him to the photo of this boy as…

“You are Uncle T.”

Jules came to a conclusion, his lips spreading into a grin as it infected the whole room. 

“Yes, I am your Uncle T!” Teague confirmed, nodding eagerly. “Gah! I thought Aimee and Charles had forgotten about me. Or even your uncle Arthur!”

“I’d never forget about you, T,” Arthur scoffed.

Jules then turned to Arthur and said, “Uncle Arthur, you cannot even remember my full name! You have put my Pascal first before Blaise!”

“Ahhh, Arthur~” Charles gasped dramatically and looked at his younger brother. Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I forgot about it once this noon and little Bianchi considers me a criminal for it,” Arthur muttered. “You and your Da, J. You like to give me a heart attack.” 

He stood next to his father while they both brushed their teeth, getting ready to go to bed for the next day. 

Jules had spent his day with Fred Vasseur and his Uncle Teague. It turned out that Teague was to work as an engineer at Ferrari after years of working at some firm in Luxembourg.

From what Jules learned, Teague never had the chance to visit Jules and his brothers due to his work commitments. Now, he’s had every chance to— and he did make sure that his time was well spent. 

“Da,” Jules spoke after rinsing his mouth, hearing a hum from Charles as he glanced at the older Leclerc. “On reverra l'oncle Teague?” Will we see Uncle Teague again? 

“Oui,” Charles murmured as he continued to brush his teeth. He spat the contents of his mouth and rinsed his mouth before he answered his son, “He will be there for your race, Jules.” 

“Ah,” Jules nodded in understanding. Silence was shared between the Leclerc boys before Jules asked, “Est-il proche de Maman?” Is he close to Maman?

“Very,” Charles nodded, “but he is not your Maman’s best friend though. He was…” 

Jules Leclerc, if you were to compare him to his twin and the rest of his brothers, was good at reading expressions. He could just tell that Charles wanted to tell him something but refuses to.

Jules always told himself that his Da got the look that his brother Hervé had whenever he was in the verge of crying or breaking down, and this was no exception.

So rather than bringing up the situation Jules went ahead and said, “Da, pourquoi l'oncle T a-t-il dit que mon nom correspondait?” Da, why did Uncle T say that my name is fitting? 

Charles’s expression changed as he snapped his head towards the direction of his son. “What do you mean?”

“I do not know,” Jules said before he tried to recall the events earlier, “he said uh… Il m'a appelé quelque chose… W- wingman?” He called me something.

“Ah,” Charles chuckled, shaking his head lightly before he grabbed the brush from the sink alongside a hair tie. He stepped behind Jules and began brushing the boy’s hair back. “The Wingman of Maranello.” 

“Oui! That!” Jules exclaimed, wincing lightly when he moved and his dad tugged on his hair lightly. Charles muttered an apology before Jules continued, “What does that mean?” 

“Uh… so,” Charles tried to speak but he couldn’t help but focus on the detangling brush on his hand as he continued to brush Jules’ damp hair. “Do you know- Maman t'a-t-elle parlé de la Saint-Valentin?” Did Maman tell you about Valentine’s Day? Jules nodded as Charles explained, “There is something called a Cupid. Now, Cupid— he matches people with others. To find someone to love.”

“Maman said that! She said that Cupid helped you and Maman!” Jules said as his eyes glimmered at the thought of Cupid doing their work— a masterpiece that the boy called his Maman and Da. 

“Yeah, well you see,” Charles chuckled, “long before Maman and I got together with the help of Cupid, we had something called the wingman. It’s someone who encourages you to talk to the person that you like.”

“Like Cupid?”

“Pretty much, but Cupid just helps people get together and love stronger,” Charles shrugged, “the wingman, in this case, helped me discover my love for your Maman more.” 

Charles smiled to himself. He remembered it vividly. 

BACK THEN

It turns out, being a student and a godson of a test driver — who was best friends with a stakeholder’s cousin — could lead him to a party at the Ferrari headquarters… and to her. 

Teague chuckled quietly before nudging Jules Bianchi slightly, earning a scowl from the Frenchman as he followed Teague’s line of sight, smirking lightly as Charles Leclerc — at the age of fifteen — blushed furiously and walked away from the golden skinned girl.

When the girl was out of their sight, Jules whistled as if to tease the boy. Charles gave Jules a glare as Teague laughed.

“Come on, Shal,” Jules grinned lopsidedly before he wrapped his arm around the Monegasque. “I think you should talk to her.”

“I already did,” Charles tried to shove Jules away from him, but the Frenchman was stronger than him as Jules laughed.

“Not that,” Jules shook his head, “maybe someday she’ll be your girlfriend~~”

“Jules, shhh-“ Charles hissed. 

“Careful now, Wingman of Maranello,” Teague piped up, “you might give my aunt a heart attack with all of your matchmaking.”

“I’ve done an alright job so far, don’t you think, T?” Jules winked at his best friend. “I’m sure your Aunt Amara wouldn’t mind having a handsome Monegasque for a son-in-law. It worked out so well with you and your girlfriend!

“Now Shal! Promise your best godfather Jules that you’d ask her out one of these days, hm? I’d be damned if you let go of a smart girl like her.” 

NOW

“So if I’m called Jules and he was your Uncle Jules… does that mean I get to play matchmaker too?”

Charles laughed aloud, finally tying his son’s hair into a bun before he wrapped his arms around his boy. 

“Why not,” Charles rolled his eyes before pressing kisses on his son’s face. “You can do whatever you want, little Bianchi. Just not anything that will send your Da or Maman to the hospital, hm?” 

Jules sighed contentedly, resting against his father’s chest as he looked at himself and his dad in the vanity. He then smiled and said, “I hope Hervé gets better before the race. Then Uncle T can see me and him race.” 

“I hope so, too, Jules,” Charles sighed quietly, patting his son on the shoulder before nudging the boy towards the direction of their bedroom. “Now off we go. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Will I drive the LaFerrari this time, Da?”

“If your Zio Fred has someone to find it for you, then yes. Perhaps don’t crash around the office. It’s a busy day tomorrow.”

“Uh… okay. Maybe I can make that promise.”

“You can promise? So silly of you, Jules.”