Shout out to Make-A-Wish and to MCR for granting me the coolest time EVER
Meeting the band was so cool ohhh my gosh. We talked about batman and the production going behind the scenes with this tour and they were all SOOO nice!!!! They signed my copy of danger days and a poster and it was just fucking awesome. A hug from Ray Toro fixed me fr
Genre: Platonic, Wholesome Chaos, Found Family, Protective Overdrive
Pronouns: they/them (gender-neutral)
Featuring: Entire 2025 grid + Team Principals
Warnings: Mentions of epilepsy, light panic over flashing lights, extreme overprotectiveness, way too much hugging
Word count: 1132
Reqs: So…. No pressure but I think it would be incredibly wholesome to maybe have a story about a make a wish visit to the paddock. Or the Y/N having a bad disease like epilepsy or a chronic disease like Ehlers - Danlos Syndrome. But the whole grid kinda adopting them and having major helicopter dad/brother/uncle vibes about the whole visit
A/N: This is for the person who reqs this on google forms, but it is no problem doing this reqs. Let me know if any of you guys want to be on the taglist.
The Arrival
You’d been counting down the days like it was Christmas. Scratch that — better than Christmas.
This was the Formula 1 paddock.
Your Make-A-Wish coordinator had told you that you’d get a full behind-the-scenes tour. Meet some drivers. Take photos. Maybe even sit in a car.
They’d failed to mention that you’d also be adopted by twenty-plus professional racers and a handful of team principals within the hour.
“Alright,” your coordinator says, handing you the special all-access lanyard. “Remember, if anything starts to feel overwhelming, you just tell me, okay?”
You nod, bouncing on your feet. “I’m fine! I’m not gonna miss a second of this.”
You weren’t lying — your epilepsy meant you had to be careful with flashing lights, but you’d come prepared with sunglasses and your neurologist’s blessing.
First up on the schedule? McLaren’s hospitality.
McLaren: The Chaos Welcome Committee
The moment you step into the McLaren motorhome, Lando Norris spots you and lights up like he’s just found a lost puppy.
“Is this my guest?!” he says, dramatically pointing at you like a game show host. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing. This is the most important person in the building.”
You grin. “You’re a lot shorter than I thought you’d be.”
The McLaren staff collectively gasp. Lando clutches his chest. “You wound me. Oscar, did you hear that? This is bullying.”
Oscar Piastri, sitting at a table with a coffee, peers over the rim of his cup. “You’ve known them for two seconds and they’ve already got you pegged. I like them.”
You spend the next fifteen minutes in McLaren’s lounge, getting a tour from Oscar (who’s quieter but very attentive) while Lando keeps tossing you snacks and asking your opinion on helmet designs.
You don’t notice the way their comms person whispers to your coordinator — something about “We’ll make sure the lighting’s fine for them today.”
Charles Leclerc meets you at the Ferrari garage.
And by “meets you,” we mean “basically adopts you on sight.”
“Ciao, petit,” he says warmly, crouching to your height. “You like cars?”
“No,” you say deadpan. “I came here because I heard the coffee was good.”
He freezes for a second before bursting out laughing. “Ah, you are going to fit in very well.”
Five minutes later, Carlos Sainz appears, holding a Ferrari cap. “For you,” he says. “And if you wear it, you have to support me, not Charles.”
Charles looks personally offended. “Excuse me? They like me more already.”
“Do not listen to him,” Carlos tells you seriously, as if this is life-or-death. “He will lead you astray.”
They both end up signing the cap and arguing over who gets to show you the car. Your coordinator gently reminds them there’s a schedule, and both pout like children.
Mercedes: Toto Wolff’s Instant Parenthood
You didn’t think you’d get starstruck — until Toto Wolff shook your hand.
“Y/N, welcome to Mercedes,” he says in his deep, calm voice. “We are very happy to have you.”
You nod, wide-eyed. “You’re tall.”
He smiles. “So are you, for your age.”
You meet Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, who immediately start fighting over who gets to give you a garage tour.
George wins (by promising to show you the steering wheel), but Lewis makes up for it by pulling you aside later and giving you a team shirt “just for you, kid.”
When Toto hears about your epilepsy, he takes it in stride — but you notice a quiet conversation between him and your coordinator. Later, every Mercedes staff member seems to know not to wave cameras with flash near you.
Red Bull: Chaos, but Make it Caring
Max Verstappen is mid-sim session when you arrive, but the moment he hears “Make-A-Wish,” he’s out of the seat and walking over.
“You like racing games?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I’m not as good as you.”
He smirks. “Nobody is.”
You roll your eyes. “Cocky much?”
He laughs — a real laugh, the kind you suspect he doesn’t show to many people.
Checo Pérez appears with a Red Bull cap and says, “This is for you. And don’t listen to Max — I could beat him if I wanted.”
Max scoffs. “Sure you could.”
By the time you leave, they’ve both signed your hat and given you a Red Bull water bottle, “for hydration, because hydration is important” (Checo’s words, not Max’s).
Alpine, Aston, and the Domino Effect
At Alpine, Pierre Gasly takes one look at you and goes, “You’re sitting in the car. No arguments.”
Esteban Ocon agrees, and suddenly you’re perched in an F1 cockpit while they both show you the buttons.
Aston Martin is where things take a protective turn. Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll somehow get wind of your epilepsy and immediately start treating you like royalty. Someone dims the lighting in their garage. Fernando insists you take a photo with his helmet. Lance makes sure you have ear protection “just in case.”
And then… word spreads.
By the time you reach Williams, Haas, and Sauber, everyone knows. It’s like a paddock-wide conspiracy to make sure nothing remotely overwhelming happens to you — but also that you have the best day of your life.
The “Incident”
You’re at the pit wall during practice when the giant track screens suddenly glitch, flashing white for a split second.
Before you can even react, four different drivers are in front of you like human shields.
Carlos, George, Pierre, and Lando.
All at once.
“Are you okay?” “Did you see that?” “Do we need to move you inside?”
You laugh — you can’t help it. “Guys, I’m fine. Sunglasses, remember?”
They still escort you back to the hospitality area like you’ve just survived a war. Your coordinator mouths “thank you” to them.
Ending: A Family Photo
By the end of the day, your lanyard is covered in pins and charms from every team. You’ve got three caps, two shirts, and a backpack someone “just happened to have lying around.”
The last stop is a group photo.
Somehow, every single driver and team principal is in it. You’re in the middle, holding a signed steering wheel Lewis insisted you take.
As you wave goodbye, Lando yells, “See you next year!” and Toto adds, “You have a permanent invitation, ja?”
You grin. “Better be ready — I’m coming back to beat Max on the sim.”
And just like that, the paddock had a new unofficial member — and you had a family bigger, louder, and more protective than you’d ever dreamed.
End.
A/N: If you want, I can also make a follow-up sequel where Y/N comes back the next year and the drivers all act like they haven’t seen their kid in years. That could be even more chaotic.
