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alanshee-keeper-of-realms · 8 months ago

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Off the Animation Table a Modern Who Framed Roger Rabbit AU: Similaritys

Miklos and Mickey Mouse share one just ONE similarity, their love and protection of children. Especially when the kids is the child of the Mouse who he suddenly forgot how to parent and just happened to forgot entirely that he brought her to the parks in the first place.

Yuki hated being surrounded by crowds, and her father was a magnet for them. At 8 years old she'd been dragged to the parks once again and again her father laughed as people instantly came up and asked for photos, he seemingly didn't notice his own daughter being forcibly shoved away,

She squeaked as she shuffled her way out of the group that had completely engulfed him, staring at the wall of people, she felt actually kind of frightened looking around she went on all fours and darted away, dodging people as she just went anywhere,

Tucking herself in a secluded area she started to cry, tail tucking itself around her as she was terrified. Not noticing a tiny head in the bushes near, nor the rustle as the toon took off,

“Stupid Dad, any other kid would want to be his child.” She sniffed, ears drooping,

“Well yeah being Mickeys kids great until you get to deal with the crowds and have to share your own parent with the World,” a voice made her jump and turn fangs baring,

A toon with a hood on only snorted, arms crossed in front of them, a smirk visible despite the sunglasses even obscuring their eyes,

“Some fangs you got there kiddo,” they reached up and pulled it off, she instantly was confused as it was..... her Dad?

“Oh great I've been dragged into one of your plays of I'm the damsel,” She huffed brows furrowing, turning away,

“Wha- ohhhhh nope!” He flopped down taking the sunglasses off and placing them on his head, as a mouse pup appeared and scurried up placing their paws on his lap as he scratched them between the ears,”I'm Miklos the accident of Disney, I look like your daddy but I ain't the Grey fur tell ya how I was made?”

Her head turned, eyes scanning over him, she huffed rolling them before tucking her knees to her chest. Unbelievable that her dad thought she would play along,

“Let me guess story is this time that you were a toon created by mixing up colors,”

“Again kid I'm not your Father,” he spat and she flinched, his own eyes rolling and motioned towards the hedges that surrounded them,

She crawled over to the edge as he pulled the bushes apart. There was her Dad signing autographs laughing and shaking people's hands, shock ran through her as she vollied between the Toons, looking back at the mouse beside her eyes widening, as he shrugged,”But the stories right on the money,”

“Woah,” he snickered as she tried comprehending such, she'd never even heard of an accident at the company, but it did make sense,

“Yep! Miklos the Grey Mouse at your service." He sat back down as the mouse pup batted at his pockets,

"Alright lil shit, you knew I'm carrying cheese on me," he playfully teased the child as he reached in and pulled out the familar orange cube, the pup grabbing it, scampering off as he called"Mooch!"

She snickered as the kid stopped, standing bipedal turning stuck their tongue out before stuffing their cheek and continuing to run off,

He himself laughed as he elbowed her, motioning to her dad still in the middle of the terrace sucking up the attention,

"Wanna play, let's see how long it takes yer pops to realize you're gone?”

She instantly felt conflicted. Her mother would be furious, but then she realized that her mother would not be angry at her. Getting a grin on her face, feeling a bit malicious towards her Dad as the group began moving towards Fantasyland,

“More like how long it takes to also make my mother pissed at him because I'm missing,” Miklos let out a laugh, eyes twinkling with mischievous intent,

“I like your style kid! Now come on everyone's at the parades and with Mickey in the Parks they will be distracted, I bet your hungry,” She did feel a bit peckish, so she stood, as he placed a pair of sunglasses back on and tossing his hood back up,

She followed curious of this toon, and honestly if she ended up in trouble it would just get his dad in trouble more, however her eyebrows raised further as he lead her towards the Villains housing, this felt like forbidden territory, but spotted Maleficent conversing with Tremaine and Medusa at a table, Miklos just striding up,

“Hello Mal, Tremaine if Minerva comes screeching how her kids lost” he pointed with a thum over his shoulder,

The ladies looked as she waved, not sure how they'd react, however Medusa laughing was not what she was expecting,

“Oh my Michael is going to be in the Apartments for this!” She cackled, the Elder sorceress cracking a smile as she brought a cup of tea to her lips

“Indeed, do not worry Yuki” She looked to the younger Mouse toon,”I shall alert your Mother when she comes looking where you are.”

“your not gonna tell her now?” she was confused as the Fae laughed with the other two,

“And spoil what is most likely going to be the most entertaining evening we've had in months?”

“Let alone we are not his babysitters, we are here to encourage bad behavior,” she turned as Ursula in her Vanessa form strode over and sat down across from Medusa,

“And some children are just wanderers, it's his fault for not paying attention,” Tremaine smoothly said as a waiter came to collect their orders,

“Have fun dear, Miklos has plenty of abandoned Pups for you to run around with.”

Yuki blinked as the women went back to talking to each other, Miklos snorted as he headed inside,

Several amazing smells of the restaurant greeted her nose. Patrons were sparse in this area despite a menu with prices showing, it felt almost parisian in feel and appearance,

“Hey Chef Louis! You think you could whip up something for the kid. Michael up and let her get lost and we are playing how long till Minerva finds out an explodes,”

The French chef poked his head out grinning,

“Of course! Poor dearie, he used to care so much more, but we have you little one!” he shrugged as he used his toon abilities to quickly move through the kitchen as Miklos sat them down at a table,

Yuki couldn't help but look around as several pups appeared sitting next to Miklos who pulled a paper out and pulled his hood off and placed the glasses on his head,

“Uhhh Miklos?” She stared as more pups appeared,

“Hm?” He looked up then grinned at the sight of well over 50 of the tiny toons standing bipedal,”Oh! These guys just want their food, come on kiddos line up like we practiced you know the rules,”

To her surprised she watched in an orderly fashion they shuffled one by one stopping holding their paws out he dropped a piece of cheese into them she was even more surprised at the tiny

“Thank you!” From some before they scampered out,

“Mickey won't take care of the kids he fathered I will,” he quipped at the last happily skittering off, even Louis looked amused as they dodged his feet as he came to deliver two plates of food

#mickey mouse #disney #miklos the grey mouse #mickmin #disney next gen #Yuki Mouse #disney villains

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fiirekat · 2 years ago

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Yuki Sohma! 🐭💙

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letyukisayfuck · 10 months ago

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if you had to assign the sos brigade fursonas/otherwise symbolic animals what would they be

#ruby.txt #there IS a reason for this. atm my thoughts are #haruhi = cat #kyon = dog #yuki = mouse #mikuru = rabbit #koizumi = fox

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peaceblank · 1 year ago

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Got to perform rotator cuff repair surgery while being assisted/guided through it by two of the leading orthopedic surgeons in Japan.

#the yuki's #Peace works #Kinda funny they're both named yuki #By the way it was on a dead mouse #Cause I very much had never done it before

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anestofmuses · 9 days ago

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"Yeah..that was pretty much my reaction too." Yuki admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. He still wasn't sure about how to feel about this whole suddenly royalty thing. "But I guess it's better then owning a life long debt to the brothel."

He then looked more cheerful, nodding. "Yeah I can ask him. Supposedly the land of the elves is fairly safe. So hopefully your folks can stay there. They're pretty cool I gotta admit. Nice folks."

Bar one in particular, though that she didn't say even to Yuki alone. Seemed Trinity had pretty big problems with most of them, bar Shi, and even with Shi she had different standards for the woman than Shi herself wished. A mindset of how to live...reminded her of herself and Anne, actually. Never caring to understand what she wanted.

The new energy in his speech surprised Erin, and she sat up.

"...Well. That's...huh." Sounded awful to her, especially given...everything their party was dealing with past and present, but if Yuki was happy about it. "Ah...well. If you'd like to go see your family I'm sure Xaos would be okay with it...do you think your father would take my family in? I want them somewhere relatively safe from Novis, and Sawyer's troupe has played courts before, they're quite well known."

#bad decisions in leather: yuki #driftingjazzbard #novis is nouse a mouse boy

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rika-mmendmethings · 18 days ago

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Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 2

CH 1 l CH 3

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of blood and drugs, self-suturing, minor character deaths, stalking, some comfort in this one.

Word count: 1.8k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: New chapter every Thursday! This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me so he's a hot ass 39 year old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing I know but soon it'd be cleared too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me and I'd try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added in the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @namjoons-toenails @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya

The warehouse loomed like a tomb swallowed by the night, its skeletal frame etched against the bruised sky, whispering secrets of violence and forgotten deals. Flickering neon lights spilled weak, jaundiced glows onto the cracked concrete floor, casting long, distorted shadows that danced like specters of the past. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, oil, and the faint, acrid bite of burned rubber.

You ran for your life through the chaos like a monkey with its tail on fire. Bad idea. Your mind had screamed at you an hour ago as you snuck into the warehouse to investigate further the drug traces that led to it. But you rarely listened to your brain, and that habit had brought you to this exact moment — hidden behind a few metal racks, your hand gripping your gun beneath the armor of your tailored black blazer.

You’d made the rookie mistake of visiting the warehouse without double-checking if it was truly empty. Some men from the drug-dealing gang were dozing off on makeshift beds after consuming too much liquor. Being light on your feet, you’d made sure not to make any noise just in case, and you were almost done collecting evidence when things went south. You’d pulled out your Polaroid camera for instant pictures of the drug packets, but after a few mechanical shutter sounds, you heard other noises in the background.

You ducked behind metal containers, your heart halting when you peeked and saw burly men searching around. Thus began your little cat-and-mouse game.

Back in the present moment, you analyzed the situation after calming yourself down. Four men on the ground floor of the warehouse, rifles in hand, with you on the first floor. You had a gun, of course — you weren’t that stupid — but taking all of them down would be a hassle, especially with a limited number of bullets. Soon enough, they’d come up to search.

You quickly formed a plan: distract them by aiming at your far left, behind the metal containers, then jump off the first floor and hurry out through the small cavity in the wall you’d come in from. You smacked your forehead with your hand when your mind began to play the Subway Surfers theme song as if it were the musical backdrop of a film starring you.

You were all set to put your plan into motion when you heard their raised voices. But their angry spouts weren’t directed at you — they were directed at someone else who had entered the warehouse. A complete silence fell over the space, and as you strained your hearing, you could make out a new, huskier voice.

Soon after, loud, painful screams echoed before abruptly stopping. You heard footsteps retreating, presumably out of the warehouse.

You blinked once, processing the turn of events. The men who were targeting you were probably lying dead on the ground floor right now — victims of another man who wanted them dead. Strange. You thought, glancing at the Polaroid camera hanging around your neck. At least the evidence was safe, and you were alive. You’d think about who your guardian angel was later. For now, you need to head back to your temporary apartment in the slightly safer regions of the N109 Zone.

You rolled back your tensed shoulders and moved out of your hiding spot, making your way downstairs via a mostly hidden and rusty staircase. Your gun was still tightly clutched in your right hand, just in case. You were about to weasel out of the wall cavity when two pairs of footsteps had you freezing.

You immediately whipped around, aiming your gun at the origin of the sound, and shot without thinking twice.

The tall person you’d shot groaned, knees buckling as he fell to the ground. Beside him, another man in the same uniform, groaning just a second later, clutched his arm before also crumbling to the ground. You gasped, realizing they hadn’t even been on your trail — they were walking over to the dead, burly men.

You felt bad, okay? You knew anything could happen if you moved closer to the unknown individuals, but you didn’t wish to leave them in that condition — especially since they hadn’t even targeted you. They were probably henchmen of your supposed guardian angel if their matching black costumes and crow-themed masks — with horns and beaks concealing their faces — meant anything.

After an internal battle between your logic and your conscience, you finally decided to approach them. You were still on guard but had put your gun away in its holster under your blazer. You nudged the men, but they didn’t even budge, so you assumed they’d passed out from the pain. You pondered why the second man had passed out if he hadn’t even been anywhere near the bullet.

Rushing to your motorcycle, you grabbed your medical kit and hurried back to them.

Luckily, the bullet hadn’t entered anyone’s body — it had only grazed the first man’s arm. It left an angry, gaping gash, though, which was currently bleeding. You rolled his sleeve up to his shoulder and began stitching it. You needed to get this done before they woke and swore mortal enmity against you. You tried to hurry, not really wanting to know if the stitches were messy, but some unknown feeling had you slowing down and being a lot more gentle than you could possibly afford right now.

After some time, you were done tending to the first man’s wounds and had even checked the second man for any injuries for inexplicable reasons. You quickly stood up, double-checking if you had everything you owned on you before rushing out of the warehouse to where your bike was hidden. You put your belongings in the saddlebag before zipping it shut. As you were about to grab your helmet, a small tap on your shoulder caused you to freeze mid-air.

You glanced at the two sets of shadows stretching on the ground just behind yours. It seemed you’d wasted too much time, and now you were about to be barbecued by the probably angry young henchmen. With no backup plan in mind, you turned around with your hands raised in surrender and eyes clenched shut.

“Thanks, missus.”

You’d expected a gun’s muzzle to your head or a hand around your neck, strangling you. And out of all the other wild things you’d expected, thanks was the last of them. You thought you were dreaming until another calm voice brought you back.

“You shot us unknowingly out of human instinct. But you still tended to us, so we decided to drop by and let you know we appreciated that.”

You were hyperventilating, you were sure of it. Until the first man spoke with a lilt:

“Your aim is super cool, though, missus. We were actually awake but wanted to see who had shot us, so we played dead, and it worked.”

You slowly lowered your hands as you heard them burst into hearty laughter. You opened your eyes, rigid as you took sight of their faces beneath the masks. The injured one wiped the sweat off his forehead with a napkin, and the other rubbed his chin — all the while laughing.

It wasn’t their near-identical faces that threw you off — no — it was the color of their eyes. Their irises were the same hues as yours: electric grey, intense as storm-churned clouds.

A gripping realization churned your heart as you silently noted the inky, curly locks — like those of the father of your late twins — and the resemblance to you in their facial features and height. Your lips wobbled, and the smarter side of you willed you not to jump to conclusions. But how could you ignore the unfamiliar warmth and contentment in your chest as you watched them laugh and interact?

Still, the lawyer in you knew better than to claim anything without evidence backing it up, so you remained quiet. They looked quite young, probably in their late teens, and that assumption caused your mind to race.

You pulled yourself together as both of them started speaking simultaneously:

“Anyways—”

The twins narrowed their eyes at each other, and you suppressed a smile.

The uninjured one continued, “We have to deal with the dead scums inside and be back before dusk, so sayonara, missus.”

Both of them saluted you as if you were some sort of general before turning on their heels.

Before they were out of earshot, you called out, “Wait.”

The twins turned around, looking at you quizzically. You shuffled on your feet, asking reluctantly, “What are your names?”

The twins nodded. The injured one pointed at himself and introduced, “The one who you shot is me. I’m Luke, the elder twin,” he pointed to his brother and trailed on, “And this is Kierran, the younger twin. Now, we really ought to dash before boss-man has us in a tight spot. Bye, missus.”

The twins waved you goodbye in sync before hurrying back into the warehouse.

You felt as if lightning had struck you. All doubts, all what-ifs — cleared. You’d crocheted a pair of blankets when you’d found out you were having twin boys seventeen years ago. Your mother had suggested adding the names you’d chosen for them on it too, aside from the cartoons.

Luke and Kierran.

You’d smiled in pure bliss that day as you told your father the names you’d chosen for your kids from the crocheted blankets. A smile of the same kind, albeit even happier, now bloomed on your face as you realized that fate had found a way to reunite you with your children once again.

And you weren’t letting them out of your sight ever again.

A joyful smile curled across your face as you slipped into the dim confines of the apartment — your so-called temporary hideout. The door clicked shut behind you with finality.

You dropped onto the couch, sinking into the worn-out plush. Their faces played over in your mind, every gesture, every word. You were already thinking of the next move, the next encounter. You’d make it happen. You always did.

But then… a pause.

Your brow furrowed, the grin faltering just slightly as a thought cut through the haze like a blade.

“They mentioned some boss-man…” you muttered, voice low, nearly lost to the silence. Your gaze flicked to the window, unfocused. “Who exactly are my children working for?”

The room gave no answer.

But if you'd been paying closer attention — if you'd listened to the silence — you might have caught the almost imperceptible flutter of feathers, or the faintest click of talons on steel. A pair of glowing, crimson eyes blinked once from the darkness, then vanished. The answer to your question, however, did not linger.

The spy departed, slicing through the night sky until it reached the edge of a sprawling mansion. It landed softly on the calloused fingers of the very man you were trying to uncover. The bird gave a mechanical caw as a red hologram burst into life, casting a ghostly light across the man’s face.

There you were, speaking, pacing, questioning. Vulnerable. Unaware.

“Interesting,” the man said, voice like fine velvet. His eyes burned with something unreadable — part curiosity, part calculation.

He leaned forward, watching the screen closely.

“Very… interesting.”

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

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formulafics · 1 year ago

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★ THE JPG CHRONICLES | PART 4

Scenario: in which the grid and fan favorite mclaren reserve driver opens a jpg account, but it isn’t what was expected. this time around, yn ln finally reveals who her boyfriend is.

Pairing: f1 grid x fem!reader

A/N: guys, we’ve made it to the last part of the jpg chronicles. i just want to thank everyone who’s followed along with this and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 also paying homage to the pink and orange theme since all of the other parts use that!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

yn.jpg

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 245,678 others

yn.jpg VEGAS BABY ‼️ mom (my pr manager) said i can’t say what i want to say about the race. she also said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all…so anyways vegas is pretty cool race aside 🥰

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yn.jpg shoutout to @/logansargeant for his first appearance on this account!

⤷ logansargeant thank you yn

⤷ yn.jpg your welcome!!

landonorris caption is real

norrisnation yn speaking for the lando girlies (gn) once again

rizzciardo LMFAO REFERRING TO YOUR PR MANAGER AS MOM

⤷ yn.jpg she is mother

alphatauritaurialpha yn this isn’t a bf reveal :/

⤷ yn.jpg babe i promise the bf reveal is coming. i have plans for it

⤷ piastrispastry YOU GOT CALLED BABE BY YN YOU WIN AT LIFE

racing.news

liked by ynln.official, pierregasly, landonorris, snd 56,782 others

racing.news sources say yn ln is ‘in trouble’ with mclaren team principal due to her second instagram account where she is notorious for posting funny pictures of her coworkers.

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norrisnation so this is why she’s delaying the bf reveal

ynln.official HELP???? IM NOT IN TROUBLE WHAT 😭

mickshumacher @/ynln.official 😳

⤷ ynln.official mick do not feed into this madness you’re better than that

⤷ sunnyshumacher mick and yn may not be dating but i love their friendship so much LMAO

landonorris im crying this is so funny

⤷ ynln.official of course you’re here

mclaren can’t take her anywhere 🫣

⤷ ynln.official ENOUGH

rizzciardo YN IN THE COMMENTS IS SENDING ME THIS IS SO FUNNY

yn.jpg and yukitsunoda0511

liked by landonorris, yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, fernandoalo_official, and 367,891 others

yn.jpg home is wherever he is. ❤️

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yukitsunoda0511 i love you ❤️

⤷ yn.jpg I LOVE YOU

landonorris the day has finally come 🙏🏻

⤷ yn.jpg stfu

fernandoalo_official 👍

⤷ yn.jpg dad approved. thank you nando

norrisnation ARE WE OFFICIALLY GETTING THE BF REVEAL? IS THIS THE REVEAL? IM GOING INSANE

yukitauri WAR IS OVER

yukitauri MY BABIES IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW

yukitauri ALSO MY PARENTS ‼️ MY PARENTS ONLY BC YALL ARE HATERS

yukitauri THROWING UP RIPPING MY HAIR OUT YN IT IS A DAMN TUESDAY YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW

rizzciardo i expect an increase in content of them. i need it

formulatsunoda ykw i’ll be so honest i did NOT expect it to be yuki but im not mad 🤭

yn.jpg

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, alex_albon, yukitsunoda0511 and 354,672 others

yn.jpg back to our regularly scheduled program 😼

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yn.jpg i am @/fernandoalo_official btw and he is @/ynln.official. he’s just a silly teenage-ish girl

⤷ dreamyalbon YN PLEASE WHAT 😭

⤷ fernandolandoland okay but her relationship with fernando is so wholesome she rlly is his grid child

alex_albon nurse, she’s out again

⤷ yn.jpg 🤺

maxfewtrell this account is my roman empire

⤷ oscarpiastri same mate

maxsupermax we are so back

yukitauri idk about yall but i won’t be moving on from the bf reveal that is my home

yn.jpg @/schecoperez not commenting = hater 😿

thank you for reading! all feedback is appreciated — dae <3

GENERAL TAGLIST | @renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @lovstappen @illicitverstappen @minkyungseokie @arkhammaid @vroomvroomverstappen @vellicora @stopeatread @topguncultleader @cixrosie @leclercvsx @motorsp0rt @piasstrisblog @lokietro @spidersophie

JPG TAGLIST | @dl-yum @youdontknowmeshh @lighttsoutlewis @kodzuvk @sofs16 @raevyng @p4st3lst4rs @1655clean @judespoision @evans-dejong @leireggsworld @landosgirlxoxo @3joracha @lanando4 @toasttt11 @gaslysainz @sadg3 @scenesofobx @leilanixx @zaynzierulez @flippingmyshit @goldenharrysworld @celesteblack08 @thatoneembarrasingmoment @willowpains @coolio2195 @bey0ndne0 @sheslikeacurse @sadg3 @biitch-with-wifi @torchbearerkyle @plutotcles @cherry-piee (more tags in comments + some would allow me to tag 💔)

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 1 year ago

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Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete jerk, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #angst #please look at trigger warning before you read #lewis hamilton #charles lecrelc #platonic lewis hamilton #platonic charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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