Word Count: 1,099
(F1 grid x Platonic!femdriver!reader)
Featuring: 2025 F1 Grid – including Ollie Bearman, Kimi Antonelli, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, and more
Summary: Y/N is the brilliant 19-year-old rookie on the F1 grid, simultaneously pursuing her degree in human biology. She’s fast, awkward, and impossible to catch unless your name is Kimi or Ollie. But once the rest of the drivers learn the magic phrase to get her to stay… things get chaotic in the best way.
PT 2
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“Wait—where’s she going?”
“She saw you walking over, mate.”
“But I was just gonna say hi—”
“Exactly.”
“Oh come on, I’m not that scary!”
Oscar Piastri sighed, watching Y/N’s signature racing jacket disappear around the corner of the Mercedes garage like she was doing a 3-second sprint. Which, knowing her, she probably timed.
“Why does she only talk to Ollie and Kimi?” Charles Leclerc asked, sipping his espresso like this wasn’t the fifth conversation they’d had this week about “figuring out the Mercedes rookie.”
“She doesn’t only talk to us,” Kimi Antonelli added unhelpfully, scrolling on his phone.
“You literally had lunch with her twice this weekend,” Lando chimed in.
“And she helped Ollie study for his media training exam thing,” Carlos muttered. “Which, like—what even is that?”
“She’s probably just shy,” George offered. “She’s 19. The rest of us are loud and annoying.”
“Speak for yourself,” Charles quipped.
“Seriously though, how do we talk to her?” Oscar asked, voice dropping like it was some kind of covert operation. “You guys know her better than we do.”
Kimi looked up. “…Just ask her about biology or something.”
“…what.”
“No, he’s right,” Ollie said with a little grin. “Y/N’s in the middle of her human biology degree. She’s got like, anatomy flashcards in her driver room. She helped me understand what the liver does for like twenty minutes yesterday.”
Carlos blinked. “What does the liver do?”
“Carlos.”
“What?! I drive cars, not bodies.”
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The next day, during the Silverstone GP weekend, Lando spotted Y/N walking toward the motorhome, head down, earbuds in, probably watching a video lecture about something way too smart for 9 AM.
He put on his friendliest smile and approached.
“Y/N!”
She froze like a startled cat.
“Don’t run, I swear I’m not gonna make you do a TikTok,” he held up his hands.
That got a tiny smile.
“…Hi,” she said, soft, clutching her iPad a little tighter.
“So uh,” Lando scratched his neck, clearly reaching into the deepest depths of his brain, “I’ve been having this…weird pain. In like—my lower back? Maybe it’s the way I sit in the car? Or like—do kidneys go there?”
Y/N blinked. Her brow furrowed just slightly.
“Lower back pain? Does it hurt when you wake up, or only after driving?”
“I mean, kind of both?”
“Could be postural. Or a psoas imbalance. Or dehydration. Have you been drinking enough water?”
He blinked. “Like…maybe? Not really?”
She sighed like a disappointed professor. “Muscles get tighter when you’re low on fluids. You probably need to stretch and hydrate better. Could be causing referred pain.”
“…Referred pain?”
Y/N blinked again. “Pain that’s felt somewhere other than where it originates.”
“Oh.”
Lando stood there, stunned.
Y/N shifted awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, that was actually… super helpful?”
She smiled again—this time for real. “You’re welcome.”
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Later that day:
“Bro, it worked. I asked her about my kidneys and she actually stayed.”
Oscar nearly dropped his water bottle. “What did she say?”
“Apparently I’m dying from dehydration.”
“…you are,” Kimi said flatly.
Suddenly, Y/N was in high demand.
Carlos complained about a shoulder spasm (“Have you been favoring one side when you sleep?”)
Charles made up a headache (“You might be clenching your jaw, try magnesium supplements.”)
Even Daniel joined in (“I feel like my spleen’s off.” – “That’s not even how it works.”)
She wasn’t fooled, of course. But she indulged them.
Every time, her voice would soften, her confidence would bloom, and she’d go on a little nerdy tangent about tendons, or hydration, or resting heart rates, and the boys? They were hooked.
“She’s like—Doctor Mike,” Alex Albon muttered after she explained Oscar’s stress-induced stomach cramps in detail.
“She could probably take the MCAT and still beat us to pole,” George added.
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What started as a running joke (“Doctor Y/N to the paddock please,” someone said over the radio and she nearly threw her headset) eventually became something warmer, deeper.
Y/N stopped running away.
She started eating lunch with the others.
She gave Charles her notes when he said his back hurt again.
She and Alex got into a debate about caffeine and resting cortisol levels that drew a literal crowd.
At the Austrian GP, a clip went viral of Y/N standing in the Red Bull hospitality tent, passionately explaining the vagus nerve to Lando and Logan using a sandwich as a prop.
“She's the first driver I’ve ever seen use a grilled cheese to explain autonomic regulation,” one fan tweeted.
“She’s so real for that,” another replied.
#DoctorY/N trended for the rest of the weekend.
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By mid-season, Y/N had won two races, earned a standing ovation for correcting a Sky Sports journalist about metabolic efficiency (gently, but still), and somehow become the grid’s favorite little sister and emergency medic.
“Y/N,” Carlos asked in Hungary, looking concerned, “my eye’s been twitching since Wednesday.”
“Lack of sleep. Cut down your screen time after 9PM. Try magnesium glycinate.”
“…you’re magic.”
Ollie and Kimi watched it all happen with barely contained pride.
“She’s so cool,” Ollie whispered.
“She’s always been cool,” Kimi replied.
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At Spa, Y/N made history as the youngest woman to podium at the Belgian GP.
During the post-race interviews, Lewis Hamilton leaned over and said into the mic, “Honestly, I thought she was gonna diagnose me with iron deficiency halfway through that race.”
Everyone laughed.
Y/N just grinned.
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By the time the season wound down, “Doctor Y/N” was stitched into the inside of her helmet as a joke from the Mercedes garage. The medical team actually joked about recruiting her post-retirement. Fans made lab coat edits of her podium pictures.
But the best part?
Y/N finally stopped doubting whether she belonged on that grid.
Not just because she was smart.
Not just because she was fast.
But because when she walked into the paddock, the boys didn’t just nod at her—they waved, smiled, joked, asked questions.
They listened.
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In Abu Dhabi, during the driver parade, Y/N sat between Lando and Kimi, squinting at her iPad and flipping through muscle diagrams. Oscar leaned over from the row behind.
“What are you studying now?”
“Neuromuscular junctions.”
“Oh cool. I have this weird ache in my foot—”
“Oscar.”
She grinned.
He did too.
“Doctor Y/N strikes again,” Charles said with a wink.
She didn’t run away this time.
━⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅━
Let me know if you want a part 2 (maybe she has to treat someone for real during a chaotic weekend 👀), or if you’d like a banner or mood board for it to post to Tumblr!
Pairing: James Vowles x Mercedes Legal Person!Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: romantic stuff, Kimi and George being a chaotic duo, mention of past cheating stuff, probably some typos here and there (sorry😭).
Word count: 1330
Requested by: @melissa66orion
I’m taking a walk with my closest friend on the paddock, George, he’s currently giving me an earful for taking the longest route to the Mercedes’ garage, since I don’t want to go anywhere near Williams’ garage:
“Y/N, you can’t avoid Carlos forever, some day you're going to have to face him.” He says riding on his scooter, practically glaring at anyone who steps in front of his way, I laugh when some poor intern almost makes him fall when he tries to swerve. “I’m serious, if we’re late again for a meeting Toto might kill us.” He says when I stop laughing.
“Okay, okay, you’re right… It’s just… It was already bad enough that his cousin was dating someone basically his age, but the fact that his cousin cheated on me… It’s humiliating, George, like with a capital H.” I say, sighing loudly, running my fingers through my hair as if that’ll fix all of my problems.
“I warned you though… But did you listen to me? No, because why would you? It’s not like I know every gossip to be known in the paddock.” He says mocking me, I turn around to face him, starting to walk backwards. Making silly faces to tease him, he starts laughing, but then:
“Y/N, watch out!” He yells, but it’s too late, my back is hitting someone’s broad chest, the stranger’s hands hold onto my shoulder to make sure I don’t fall:
“Sorry, I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking ahead.” I say turning around, trying to ignore George’s laugh as he continues going forward, leaving me with the handsome stranger, his dark blonde hair, dark eyes, soft stubble on his face, wrinkles adorning around his eyes and his smile, just when I notice his smile is when I realize he probably asked me something, my cheeks burn with embarrassment, I cough and ask:
“Sorry… What was the question?” I try to muster a sweet smile, trying to hide just how much this 40 something years old man is swaying with my feelings already.
“I asked you name, sweetheart.” He asks smiling, now that his hands have let go of my arms, he crosses them in front of his chest, his biceps filing so nicely the empty spaces of the sleeve of his button up shirt.
“Um… I’m Y/N, I’m… I work at Mercedes… Director of the Legal Team. And I don’t think I caught your name.” I say, trying to sound as smooth as I can, which probably wasn’t a lot, since he laughed softly and I realized I really want to hear that sound more often.
“James, sweetheart. Williams’ team principal.” He says and I feel all my hopes and dreams get crushed, I shake his hand and mutter an excuse for being late to a meeting and hurry away from the most handsome man I’ve seen in a while.
When I reach Mercedes’ garage, everyone is smiling at me like they know something I don’t and I slowly walk to the meeting room, where Toto, Susie, George and Kimi are waiting for me.
“Did I miss anything important? I’m sorry for being late, someone left me all alone on the way here.” I say glaring at George, as he stares at everything but me, pretending I’m not in the room.
“Oh don’t worry, Y/N. George filled us in on your little… Mishap with James.” Susie says, smiling at me as if I told her that we just won the championship. As I look around the room confused, George finally decides to fill me in on the joke of the moment.
“So… I might’ve told them that you had the most romantic moment with James and… They approve.” He says, smiling like he had just given me the best news ever. I look at him like he’s crazy.
“George, there was no ‘romantic moment’. I bumped into him and that is it.” I say putting the documents on the desk to start the meeting, but Kimi seems to have other plans.
“James is single… If you’re wondering.” Kimi says giving me that sweet boy smile he has, I sigh loudly knowing my friends won’t drop this unless I give them a real answer.
“Guys, nothing will happen… I’m taking a break from relationships after my… Fiasco with Carlos Oñoro Sainz. Besides he’s Carlos’ boss, it’d be weird to be with his boss right after his cousin cheated on me… And besides, he doesn't even seem interested in me…” I say trying to hide my disappointment.
“Y/N… I’ve known James for a while and from what George said… He’s interested, you should give it a chance… Who knows…? Something good could come out of this.” Toto says, giving me one of his knowing smiles.
“Thanks, boss… I’ll think about it, for now can we just… Focus on the meeting?” I ask, trying to get this over with so I can go back to my hotel, order a huge tub of ice cream and watch corny movies to forget today happened.
I’m so focused on the documents that I don’t even realize that Kimi took my phone from my briefcase, nor do I notice his quiet conversation with George as they do something on my phone, but Susie and Toto notice and they’re amused by this. After the meeting they put my phone back on the briefcase and I start gathering the documents, George approaches me with a look on his face that tells me he did something:
“What could you possibly have done? We were at this meeting for hours…” I say scratching my forehead annoyed at this antics.
“Well… Let’s just say someone has a date today thanks to me and Kimi.” He says smiling with a wide smile, glancing between me and my briefcase.
“No… You wouldn’t, George, I’ll kill you.” I say rummaging through my briefcase, desperately looking for my phone, when I unlock it, there’s a conversation open with James and the last message he sent read:
“I’ll pick you up from the garage, what you were wearing was perfect and I can’t wait to see you. ;)” My jaw drops and I really consider killing George, who’s still smiling at me like an idiot.
“Thank me later, pretty stuff, go woo your man.” He says, smiling like his life isn’t on the line here, I take a look outside of the meeting room into the garage and James is already there waiting, how did he already know the meeting was over, when I hear a squeal from behind me, I connect the dots, Susie and Toto must’ve told him.
“We’ve been trying to set him up with someone for months and you’re the first person he’s shown real interest… Come on, I’ll help you get a little more fixed up for the date.” Susie says, pushing me into the bathroom to fix my hair, throw some water on my face and try my best to make this clothes look even a little less like a ‘I’m ready for work’ and more like ‘I’m so ready for this date’.
After a few good minutes, I walk out of the meeting room to find James leaning on the wall waiting for me and he looks even more handsome at night, the moon gives him a sharper edge that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Ready for the date, sweetheart?” He says, offering me his arm like a gentleman. I hold his arm softly, while trying to contain the burning sensation on my cheeks, I start laughing softly:
“I thought I already told you my name…” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but just by looking into his eyes I already know I’m doomed.
“You did, but sweetheart suits you more… Sweetheart.” He says, smiling at me like he’s enjoying this banter between us, he starts guiding me outside and I already start to feel like I owe Kimi and George a thanks, those stupid cupids.
I’ve been going down the secret girlfriend/child rabbit hole so I was thinking maybe one of the drivers having a daughter that no one but a select few know about. And there being an accidental reveal! Complete outrage from those not in the know
🏎️💥 “Wait… You’re a Leclerc?"
Pairing: F1 Grid x Reader (platonic)
Genre: found family, humor, chaos, protective uncles, outrage, heartwarming moments
Word Count: 1,166
Summary: Charles Leclerc has managed to keep you — his daughter — a secret from the wider F1 world for years. Only a very small circle knows. But during one chaotic weekend, the secret slips out… and the grid doesn’t take it well. At all.
The Setup: The Best Kept Secret in F1
If there was a trophy for “most surprising F1 fact nobody knew,” it wouldn’t go to a secret upgrade package or hidden team politics.
It would go to you.
You were Y/N Leclerc. 7 years old, elementary school student, and Charles Leclerc’s daughter.
…Except literally no one knew that part.
Well, almost no one.
Arthur knew, obviously (uncle privileges).
Pierre Gasly knew because Charles slipped up one late night after Monaco GP and almost cried into his wine about parenting.
Sebastian Vettel knew, because he was Charles’ dad away from home and caught him FaceTiming you in a Ferrari motorhome years ago.
And that was it.
No one else on the grid. No one in Ferrari. Definitely not the FIA.
Charles was protective—no, paranoid. He wanted you shielded from media chaos, online trolls, and the weight of the Ferrari name. So to the world, you were just “Charles’ niece” or “family friend” if you happened to be spotted anywhere near him.
And for years, it worked. Until it didn’t.
The Weekend of Chaos
The accidental reveal happened in Singapore 2025, and honestly, it started because you were bored.
Charles had dragged you along because your school schedule finally lined up with a race weekend. The original plan was to keep you in the background, tucked away in hospitality or a hotel room, invisible.
But… you were seven. Seven and curious. Seven and tired of being hidden like some undercover spy kid.
So when Charles went off to a briefing and Arthur was too busy chatting with Fred Vasseur, you kind of… wandered.
You ended up in the paddock, hoodie up, badge swinging, pretending you totally belonged. And it would have been fine. Totally fine. Except—
“Hey, you’re Charles’ niece, right?”
You turned around and froze.
Lando Norris was squinting at you, milk tea in hand, looking suspiciously friendly.
“Uh—” you started.
And here was the problem: Lando was nice. Too nice. And he had that older-brother energy that made you blurt things you weren’t supposed to.
So instead of saying the safe line (“yes, niece”), your mouth betrayed you.
“I’m his daughter.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth immediately, but it was too late.
Lando blinked. “…His what?”
Stage 1: Containment Fails
Lando Norris was not known for his ability to keep secrets. Within an hour, the situation spiraled.
Because of course he told Oscar Piastri.
And Oscar, being Oscar, just had to confirm with Carlos Sainz (“hey, did you know Charles has a kid?”).
And Carlos—good, dramatic, Spanish Carlos—just stared at you like you had committed treason.
“You’re telling me, mon frère—” he grabbed your shoulders in the middle of McLaren hospitality like it was a telenovela. “—that you are Charles’ hija and he did not tell me?! Me? His ex-teammate? His best friend? His brother?!”
You tried to escape, but it was too late. The dominoes had started falling.
By FP2, the grid knew.
By FP3, the journalists almost knew.
By qualifying… you had bodyguards in the form of ten very angry, very betrayed uncles.
Stage 2: The Outrage
The chaos really kicked in at the drivers’ briefing.
George Russell slammed his notebook shut like an offended school prefect.
“Charles, mate, this is unacceptable. Unacceptable. We’ve been friends for years. YEARS! And you didn’t tell me you had a daughter?!”
Charles buried his face in his hands. “It was private.”
Lewis, ever the calm voice of reason, raised a brow. “Private, yes, but come on… George is right. You know how protective we all are. We’d have looked out for her.”
“Looked out for her?” Carlos exploded. “I could have been her tío! I already bought a Ferrari onesie years ago just in case! Do you know how many birthdays I missed because I didn’t even know they existed?!”
“Stop yelling at me!” Charles groaned. “This is exactly why I kept it secret!”
Meanwhile, you were in the corner, trying not to laugh at the sight of twenty grown men acting like you’d just betrayed them personally by being born.
Stage 3: Uncle Mode Activated
The thing about the grid was that once the outrage wore off… the overprotective instincts kicked in. Hard.
Suddenly, you weren’t just “Charles’ kid.”
You were everyone’s kid.
Max Verstappen, of all people, was the first. He cornered you in the paddock, dead serious.
“You ever need anything, you call me. Doesn’t matter what. Flat tire? Homework? Somebody bothering you? I’ll sort it.”
"Okay dude". You nodded your head.
Then Lewis:
“You’re vegan now. No discussion. I’m sending you recipes.”
Then Daniel Ricciardo, practically bouncing:
“OH MY GOD, I’M AN UNCLE. I NEED A NICKNAME. UNCLE DAN. UNCLE DANNY. FUN-UNCLE RIC.”
“Danny,” Charles groaned, dragging him away, “stop corrupting her.”
But the worst? The absolute worst?
Lando and Carlos.
Those two declared themselves “joint custody uncles” and started competing immediately. Who could make you laugh more? Who could sneak you more paddock merch? Who could make Charles’ eye twitch harder?
By Sunday, you were wearing a McLaren cap over a Ferrari hoodie while holding a Red Bull water bottle and cheering for literally everyone.
The Accidental Reveal (to the World)
Charles thought he could still contain it.
Sure, the grid knew, but as long as the press didn’t find out—
Yeah. That dream ended when Daniel decided it would be funny to lift you up during the post-race cool-down room.
On live camera.
“Everyone meet my niece—no, wait, CHARLES’ DAUGHTER!”
You could practically hear Ferrari PR having a collective aneurysm.
The internet exploded.
F1 Twitter trended #MiniLeclerc within minutes.
TikTok was flooded with clips of your face when Daniel hoisted you into frame.
And the journalists? Sharks in water.
“Charles, when were you planning to announce this?”
“Charles, how old is she?”
“Charles, did Ferrari know?”
You hid behind Carlos as Fred Vasseur aged twenty years in the background.
The Aftermath
That night, Charles was sulking in his hotel room, muttering about “trust” and “respect” and “idiots for teammates.”
But you? You were grinning ear to ear. Because for the first time, you didn’t feel like a secret. You felt like family.
Lando had already texted you a group chat invite called “Uncle Protection Squad™” with seventeen members.
Lewis followed you on Instagram.
Pierre promised to teach you French properly (“better than your father speaks it, at least”).
Max… actually bought you a scooter so you could “keep up with Charles.”
And Carlos? Carlos just looked at you like you hung the stars.
“Mi sobrina,” he said dramatically, patting your head. “You’re stuck with all of us now.”
And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.
Epilogue: Ferrari PR Statement
The following week, Ferrari released an official press release:
“We kindly request respect for the privacy of Charles Leclerc’s daughter. However, we acknowledge that she is now beloved by the entire grid and, apparently, half the internet.”
The internet’s response?
“Protect Mini Leclerc at all costs.”
F1 Grid x Platonic!FemDriver!Reader
Featuring: F1 Grid – Ollie Bearman, Kimi Antonelli, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, and more
Genre: Humor, Drama, Platonic Fluff, Slice of Life, Hero Moment
Warnings: Mentions of injury, mild medical emergency, protective drivers
Word Count: 770
A/N: @just-tingz-virgo, @alltypesofanimallover, @dakotapaigelove, @alltypesofanimallover Here is the part 2 you guys requested.
PT 1 PT 3
Singapore GP – Saturday
Singapore was hot.
Not just “turn your visor into a sauna” hot, but “the paddock feels like a steam room” hot.
Y/N had spent the morning alternating between qualifying sims and sipping electrolytes like her life depended on it.
By now, everyone on the 2025 grid knew her routine:
Walk fast.
Avoid conversations.
Only stop if someone said the magic words.
“Doctor Y/N to the paddock please,” Carlos had joked into his radio earlier.
Y/N had responded without missing a beat:
“Hydrate. You’re sweating like an overworked kidney.”
Qualifying started smooth. The sun dipped. The track lights glowed. Y/N was P8 after Q1, casually outpacing both Ferraris.
Then chaos hit.
On the big screen in the garage, she caught the tail end of an AlphaTauri spinning into the barrier during Q2. The car crumpled just enough to send a chill down everyone’s spine.
“Red flag. Driver radio silent.”
Y/N froze, helmet still on. Her stomach twisted.
“Is that…?” Kimi whispered over the team comms.
“Ollie,” someone said.
Her heart lurched.
By the time she pulled into the pit lane, adrenaline had wiped out all traces of rookie nerves. She sprinted across the paddock before anyone could stop her.
“Y/N, wait!” Toto Wolff’s voice called, but she ignored it.
She reached the crash site just as medics were arriving. Ollie’s car was smoking lightly. He was conscious but slumped sideways, his helmet tilted.
“Ollie!” she called, kneeling by the cockpit as marshals began to clear debris.
His eyes fluttered. “Y/N…?”
Her voice went calm, like a switch flipped.
“Hey, you’re okay. Just stay still. Can you hear me?”
He groaned, wincing as he tried to move his arm.
“Shoulder pain?”
“…Yeah.”
She quickly assessed what she could through his suit—her human biology instincts overriding the panic.
“No neck pain?”
“No…”
“Good. Stay still anyway.”
She looked up at the arriving medical team.
“Probable shoulder dislocation. He’s alert, vitals stable. No loss of consciousness.”
The FIA doctor blinked at her, impressed. “Are you—?”
“Driver, human bio major, trust me,” she said in one breath.
Together, they carefully extracted Ollie from the car and got him onto the stretcher. His hand found hers instinctively, grip shaky.
“You’re good,” she said firmly. “You’re okay, Ollie. Breathe with me.”
[🎥: F1 TV Broadcast Clip]
Commentator 1: “Is that… Y/N Leclerc at the scene?”
Commentator 2: “It is! She’s actually helping the medics. That’s the Mercedes rookie—remember she’s pursuing a human biology degree.”
Commentator 1: “Talk about brains and bravery. Look at that composure.”
Back in the medical center, after the shoulder was relocated and cleared as a minor injury, Ollie sat propped up with an ice pack.
Y/N hovered by the bed, still in her fireproofs, hair damp with sweat and rain.
“You saved me,” Ollie mumbled, a little dazed from the painkillers.
“You weren’t dying,” she said softly, finally letting herself smile. “But you’re not allowed to scare me like that again.”
He grinned weakly. “Doctor Y/N to the paddock… actually worked.”
She rolled her eyes, but her hand squeezed his gently.
When she finally stepped outside, she was met with a wall of drivers.
Charles, Arthur, Lando, Oscar, Kimi, George—basically the entire grid plus half the team principals—waiting by the medical center doors.
The moment they saw her, a cheer went up.
“Y/N!” Lando whooped.
“Doctor Y/N in the flesh!” Logan added.
Even Max clapped her on the shoulder. “Not gonna lie… that was badass.”
Toto approached, expression a mix of stern and proud. “You’re lucky the FIA didn’t drag you away. But… you handled that like a professional.”
Carlos grinned, holding up a bottle of water like a trophy. “For the paddock’s favorite doctor.”
She flushed under the attention, heart still racing from the adrenaline.
“I just… did what I could.”
“Exactly,” Charles said, pulling her into a crushing big-brother hug. “And you were amazing.”
[📸: Paddock Photographer]
[Photo of Y/N in her fireproofs outside the medical center, helmet under her arm, smiling tiredly as Ollie gives her a thumbs-up from the bed behind her.]
Caption: Singapore’s real MVP.
#DoctorY/N #rookiehero #f1family
That night, the Mercedes team quietly stitched “Dr. Y/N – Emergency Response Unit” into the inside of her race suit.
Because from that day on, she wasn’t just the rookie.
She was the paddock’s heartbeat.
End.
A/N: If you want, I can make a Part 3 where the grid literally starts calling her over the radio mid-race for every tiny problem, and the FIA has to step in because she’s basically the unofficial paddock medic.
Do you want me to make that chaotic and funny Part 3 next?
Hi, I would also have a request. If you like the idea, could you write a story like this? Charles’s daughter, who is 3–4 years old and a genius, and every team wants to steal her from Charles so she can help them too.
🏎️ “Operation: Steal Baby Leclerc”
F1 Grid x Platonic!Toddler!Reader (3 y/o genius, Charles’ daughter)
Genre: Humor, Platonic Chaos, Found Family, Everyone vs. Charles
Word Count: 912
🎥 The Setup
It started with one simple moment.
During a Ferrari strategy meeting, Charles had you sitting on his lap because the babysitter cancelled and Arthur was too busy “being a menace” (his words).
Everyone was arguing about tire strategies. Softs? Mediums? Two-stop? One-stop?
And then, with your juice box straw still in your mouth, you piped up:
“Safety car lap 23. Double stack.”
The engineers laughed. Charles laughed.
Then… lap 23, a safety car came out. Ferrari double-stacked. Perfectly. Both cars in the points.
The paddock never looked at you the same way again.
🏁 Round 1: The Recruitment Attempts
From that moment, every single team decided they wanted you.
🟢 Mercedes
George corners you in the paddock.
“Y/N, how would you like to come to Mercedes? We have biscuits.”
You: serious toddler frown “Are they chocolate chip?”
George: “Yes—”
You: “Soft or crunchy?”
George: “Uh—soft?”
You: squints “Liar.”
Lewis laughs so hard he nearly drops his smoothie.
🔵 Red Bull
Max just walks over, blunt as ever.
“You work for me now.”
Charles: “EXCUSE ME??”
Y/N: tilts head, calculating like a mini computer “Depends. Do I get orange juice?”
Max: “Yes.”
Charles: “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”
Checo: whispering to Max “She negotiates better than Helmut.”
🟡 McLaren
Lando shows up with a tablet.
“Look, Y/N, we have coloring apps. Strategy apps. Even a simulator game.”
Oscar: “We’ll even let you pick the tire compounds.”
You: gasp “Do I get to tell you when to pit?”
Lando: “Of course.”
Charles storms in, scoops you up bridal-style.
“My daughter is NOT doing your pit calls.”
🟢 Aston Martin
Fernando crouches down with a conspiratorial smile.
“You know, I like winners. You could be the secret weapon of Aston Martin.”
You: eyes lighting up “Do I get green crayons?”
Fernando: “As many as you want.”
Charles: “SHE HAS GREEN CRAYONS ALREADY.”
Fernando: “But not Aston Martin Official Green™.”
⚫ Haas
Hülkenberg just asks straight up: “What’s your consultancy fee?”
You: “One million.”
Charles: “Y/N!”
You: shrugs “Plus a juice box.”
Nico: “…Honestly fair.”
🎥 The Chaos Escalates
By mid-season, the entire grid is running black-ops missions to steal you away from Ferrari’s garage.
Pierre tries to “babysit” you during media day, only for Charles to find you in full Alpine gear handing out race notes.
Carlos (uncle mode activated) literally carries you on his shoulders to keep you out of reach from rival teams.
Yuki teaches you how to yell “Box! Box!” dramatically into a walkie-talkie.
Logan offers you American candy if you join Williams. You take the candy. Still don’t join.
🏎️ Your Master Plan
Here’s the kicker: you’re only three, but you’re also a master strategist of chaos. You realize every team is desperate for your “insight,” so you start running your own little operation.
You draw “pit strategies” with crayons and sell them to the highest bidder.
You whisper conflicting strategies to different drivers just to watch the chaos.
You tell Max: “Push lap 14.” Then tell Lando: “Overtake Max lap 14.”
It works. Both listen. The overtake actually happens.
The FIA: deep sigh “We cannot regulate a toddler.”
🎥 Interviews
Carlos: “She’s the real team principal. Charles is just… there.”
Lando: “She sold me a race plan for a packet of fruit snacks.”
Oscar: “I still can’t believe she predicted the red flag at Silverstone.”
Lewis: “She’s a genius. But she’s also three. She asked me if DRS stood for ‘Dinosaur Racing System’ yesterday.”
Charles: holding his head “I am losing control of my own daughter.”
🏆 The Ultimate Heist
Singapore. The paddock goes dark.
The FIA thinks it’s just a power outage, but really? Every team is attempting the Ultimate Baby Heist™.
Mercedes distracts Charles by asking for a photo with a random fan.
Red Bull wheels in a suspiciously small “equipment box.”
McLaren bribes you with glow-in-the-dark stickers.
Aston Martin unleashes Fernando Alonso, who literally sprints with you under one arm.
Charles: chasing him down the paddock, screaming in Monegasque
The cameras catch it. It trends worldwide.
🎥 The Twist
But here’s the thing: you were never actually stolen.
Because while the grid fought over you, you were quietly sitting in Ferrari’s hospitality, drawing up the exact chaos plan that unfolded.
Arthur finds you giggling, coloring with an orange crayon.
Arthur: “Wait… did YOU plan this?”
You: innocent smile “Maybe.”
Charles, breathless, hair messy, finally bursts in:
“Y/N! Thank god, I—”
You hand him a piece of paper.
On it is a crayon drawing: a Ferrari car crossing the finish line first. Underneath, scribbled in red crayon:
“Papa wins. Always.”
Charles melts on the spot.
📱 Fan Reactions After the Video Drops
@scuderiafan: not Ferrari having to protect a toddler like state secrets 💀
@chaoticgrid: FIA needs to ban Y/N from the paddock, she’s too powerful.
@landoeditss: “one million and a juice box” IM CRYING.
@maxnation: max being outsmarted by a 3yo is peak comedy.
@monacochild: Y/N running Ferrari better than Ferrari.
🎬 Final Scene
You’re sitting on Charles’s shoulders as the grid reluctantly admits defeat. He’s holding you tight like he nearly lost you to Red Bull’s suspicious “equipment box.”
Carlos pats your head: “Strategy genius.”
Lando mutters: “She’s terrifying.”
Fernando smirks: “Call me when you want to win championships, pequeña.”
Charles: hissing at everyone “Stay. Away. From. My. Daughter.”
You: innocent giggle “Papa win Monaco next year.”
The grid: groans in collective fear
Charles: smiles proudly “She said it, so it will happen.”
Formula 1 Grid x Driver!Reader (Platonic)
ft. Gen Z reader, chaotic slang, Lulu bag supremacy, Max being confused, Charles being emotionally unstable
🔢 Part 3 of a multi-post fic series — goal is 10k+ words
🎧 vibe check: “Did Something Bad” by Taylor Swift (but like a nightcore version lol)
📍 Silverstone, Quali + Race Weekend
🧃 Word count (part 3): 847
📎 previous parts: Part 1 | Part 2
🧢 tag list: chaos, found family, F1 x platonic!reader, media interviews, group chats, roasting the entire grid, Gen Z slander
A/N: @omgsuperstarg Here it is
🏎️ CHAPTER 3: “Delulu Is the Solulu”
In which you roast the grid on live TV, Charles learns what “delulu” means, and Max contemplates retirement (again).
Saturday – Grid Walk Chaos
Silverstone Circuit
You’ve got your headphones on. Again.
Your pre-quali playlist today is a mix of sped-up hyperpop edits and one suspiciously aggressive Doja Cat song. Your walk to the grid is more of a strut. Lulu bag slung across your chest. Hood up. Giant sunglasses. A menace to society.
And then someone hands you a mic.
Bad idea.
F1TV Crew Member (nervously): “Y/N, can you join us for a quick grid walk segment? Just a few fun driver roasts?”
You smile. “Say less.”
You turn to the camera like you’re a TikTok influencer on live.
—
🎥 CLIP: “Y/N ROASTS THE 2025 GRID (AGAIN)”
(2.7M views in 4 hours)
🎤 You (to camera): “OKAY so I’m gonna give you a ✨vibe check✨ of everyone’s Spotify Wrapped based on nothing but their energy.”
🧢 Lando Norris:
“His top genre is definitely something like ‘future garage house-core sad-boy ambient.’ And his #1 song is that weird frog noise remix that’s like ‘wub wub wub’.”
👔 George Russell:
“He listens to classical music and calls it ‘relaxing’ but we all know he’s plotting world domination.”
💄 Charles Leclerc:
“Definitely Taylor Swift. But like...the break-up albums. Charles has cried to ‘All Too Well (10 Minute Version)’ and I will not be taking questions.”
🎮 Max Verstappen:
“His top song is the F1 theme. On repeat. He is the villain soundtrack.”
🥹 Oscar Piastri:
“Lofi hip hop to study and dissociate to. He’s just trying to survive.”
🍣 Yuki Tsunoda:
“Anime intros and Gordon Ramsay yelling.”
🌶️ Carlos Sainz:
“Reggaeton. But like only Bad Bunny. And he doesn’t know the lyrics. He just vibes.”
😌 Pierre Gasly:
“R&B. Slow jams. I don’t know how I know. I just know.”
💀 You finish with a wink: “As for me? My top song is probably a cursed Nightcore edit of Nicki Minaj yelling. It’s the only thing that hypes me up before quali.”
—
Back in the paddock…
Charles corners you by the Red Bull ice cream stand.
“You told the world I listen to Taylor Swift.”
You blink. “Do you not?”
“…I do. But now the fans are editing me into Sad Girl Autumn TikToks.”
You grin. “You’re welcome, bestie.”
He crosses his arms. “And what is this ‘delulu’ thing?”
You pat him on the shoulder.
“It means you believe in things that don’t make logical sense. Like Ferrari strategy or your love life.”
“Y/N—!”
—
📱TEAM RADIO – LAP 3, QUALI
Engineer: “Gap to P1 is 0.142. Push.”
You: “I AM the drama.”
Engineer: “Push confirmed.”
You: “It’s giving pole position or hospital.”
Engineer: “…Copy.”
—
📢 Group Chat: “Y/N’s Slay Cult”
Charles: i googled “delulu”
Y/N: and?
Charles: i am...very delulu
Lando: he just told a fan he’s in his “red flag arc”
Max: he is
Oscar: we need to stage an intervention
Yuki: make a powerpoint
Y/N: can i host the slideshow
Pierre: oh god
George: no
—
🧃Race Day Morning
Your breakfast? One iced matcha, half a bagel, and pure spite.
You show up to the paddock in:
Black parachute pants
Tee that says “SPEED DEMON IN LULU”
Your signature Lulu crossbody
Lip gloss
Matching black nail polish with glittery flames
And of course: sunglasses that are way too big
Max looks at you and sighs.
“Do you ever wear anything normal?”
You sip your matcha. “Define normal.”
He blinks. “Like…a team shirt?”
You hold up a vintage 2014 Vettel Red Bull tee you found on eBay.
“…Okay,” he mutters. “That’s actually kind of iconic.”
—
🎙️Media Zone Quote of the Day:
Interviewer: “Y/N, how are you feeling heading into the race?”
You: “I’m hydrated, delusional, and morally unhinged. So...business as usual.”
Interviewer: “Right. Um. Strategy?”
You: “Yeah, I plan to simply not get overtaken. Ever. Periodt.”
Pierre (off-camera): “This is why she has a fanbase of 14-year-olds and chaos goblins.”
—
📻Team Radio – Final Laps
Engineer: “You're P3 if you hold this. Norris behind, 1.3 seconds.”
You: “GATEKEEP. GASLIGHT. GIRLBOSS.”
Engineer: “…okay??”
You: “He’s not touching this podium if I gotta drive sideways.”
—
You finish P3. First podium of the season.
You jump out of the car, wave at the crowd, then immediately hand someone your Lulu bag and say:
“Hold this, I gotta be dramatic.”
Cue champagne spray and slow-motion sunglasses adjustment.
The crowd goes feral.
Charles holds up a sign that says “DELULU FOR P3 🖤”
You wink at him.
—
📱POST-RACE IG DUMP – @paddockslayqueen
📸 1: You on the podium holding your trophy like a purse
📸 2: Yuki and you doing finger hearts
📸 3: You captioning your tire deg chart with “she’s cooked but still slayed”
💬 caption: “p3 bbs 😌 the slay never sleeps 💅 #deluluera #maincharacter”
🧃 comments:
@charles_leclerc: proud delulu
@oscarpiastri: i’m so tired
@yourteamofficial: please stop changing your radio name to "hot girl telemetry"
@danielricciardo: keep slaying kid
@f1girlieshub: she’s so unserious and SO powerful
F1 Grid x Platonic!FemDriver!Reader
Featuring: Literally everyone being clingy, dramatic, and ridiculous
Genre: Humor, Platonic Fluff, Crack Chaos, Found Family
Warnings: Overprotective drivers, petty rebellion, one (1) fake nosebleed
Word Count: 944
A/N: The FIA tried to silence the paddock's emotional support provider. But the grid? Oh, they had plans. @vinylphwoar, @clocouettelife, @omgsuperstarg, @josephinel83, @just-tingz-virgo, @alltypesofanimallover, @kaeyaphilia, @hellsingalucard18 Here it is you guys
PT 3 PT 5
Bahrain GP – Season Opener, 2026
New year, same problem.
Except now the FIA had had enough.
Following the 2025 season, during which Mercedes driver Y/N Wolff became the unofficial first responder, therapist, and juice box supplier to half the grid, the FIA issued a formal statement:
FIA BULLETIN 01/26
Effective immediately, Driver Y/N Wolff is not permitted to provide mid-session medical, emotional, or psychological counsel to drivers outside of official Mercedes communications.
Failure to comply will result in penalties to the team and driver.
We wish her a successful season, free from constant driver interruptions.
(Please stop calling her about cramps and snacks.)
Y/N’s reaction:
“Oh thank God.”
…followed by a suspicious silence in the group chat.
Pre-Race — Bahrain Quali Weekend
She walked into the paddock Friday morning to see something… off.
Charles was holding a thermometer in his mouth.
Lando had a crutch. For no reason.
Oscar was wearing a fake arm sling.
Kimi had googled how to fake a fever and was sweating under three jackets.
“You guys know I’m not allowed to help anymore,” Y/N said flatly.
Charles: “This is visual evidence for your case.”
Oscar: “Yeah, we’re starting a protest.”
Y/N: “A protest??”
Lando: “Yeah. It’s called Free the Doctor.”
They printed T-shirts.
"LET Y/N HEAL US"
"TEAM DOC"
"I PRETENDED TO BE INJURED SO Y/N WOULD TALK TO ME"
They even made pins that said:
“This driver is emotionally unstable without Y/N support.”
Sky Sports Clip – Saturday Morning Interview
Ted Kravitz: “Charles, I see you’re limping—are you injured?”
Charles (serious): “Only in my heart. The FIA took away our doctor.”
FP2 — The Chaos Begins
Mid-session, Logan went full method actor.
Logan [radio]: “I’m losing vision in my left eye. It’s going blurry.”
Engineer: “What?? Are you serious?”
Logan: “Yeah, because I’m crying. I miss Doctor Y/N.”
Ollie Bearman faked a nosebleed.
He used ketchup.
It dripped onto his white race suit.
Chaos.
Y/N nearly lost her mind in the Mercedes garage.
“I’M NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO HELP YOU.”
Ollie (dramatically): “Then help me emotionally.”
Kimi set up a fake check-in table labeled:
“Totally Real Medical Needs, Do Not Question”
With a clipboard that read:
“Patient 1: Oscar — Eyelash stabbed his eye?”
“Patient 2: George — Feels ✨drama✨ in his bones”
“Patient 3: Max — Refuses help but secretly wants juice”
The FIA’s Worst Day — Qualifying
Lap 1, Q1:
Charles Leclerc spins. Car’s fine. He’s fine.
Radio: “Team… I think I need… emotional defibrillation.”
Engineer: “Charles, you’re not allowed to contact Y/N.”
Charles: “Then I’m going to cry alone in the gravel.”
Lap 3, Q1:
Oscar Piastri locks up. Minor. Nothing dramatic.
Radio: “If I survive this, tell Y/N I—”
Engineer: “You’re not dying, Oscar.”
Oscar: “Okay. But tell her I’m being brave.”
Lap 5, Q1:
Lando suddenly pulls into the pits.
Radio: “I forgot how to blink.”
Engineer: “What—”
Lando: “Does this count as a visual medical impairment? Should I call Y/N?”
Engineer: “WE WILL GET PENALIZED.”
Lando: “Then I’ll blink through the pain.”
Live Broadcast Moment
Commentator 1: “And it seems… yes, that’s Charles holding up a ‘Let Y/N Speak!’ sign out of his car window during cooldown.”
Commentator 2: “This is… unprecedented.”
Post-Qualifying FIA Meeting
The FIA called an emergency briefing.
Toto. Christian. Fred. Zak. Everyone.
FIA Official: “We are being mocked. Your drivers are staging a mutiny.”
Fred Vasseur: “That’s a strong word.”
FIA: “You allowed Lando Norris to fake a broken ankle using Oscar’s knee brace!”
Zak Brown (muttering): “He made it look convincing.”
Bahrain Race Day — Sunday
It started quiet.
Too quiet.
Lap 8: George spins. No contact.
Radio: “I’m fine. But tell Y/N my back hurts from carrying the emotional weight of this team.”
Lap 12: Kimi pit stops early. Engineer confused.
“Kimi, why are you in the pit lane?”
Kimi: “I needed to hand-deliver my medical complaint form.”
He gave them a sticky note that said: “Brain itchy. Need Y/N.”
Lap 19 — The Breaking Point
Max Verstappen. Usually chill. Usually too cool for this.
Then suddenly:
Max [radio]: “I’m feeling strange. Very strange.”
Engineer (panicked): “Do we need to box?”
Max: “No. It’s just the empty space where Y/N used to be.”
Final Straw — Lap 24
Carlos Sainz actually gets a cramp.
A real one.
He tries not to say anything.
Fails.
Carlos: “Can someone PLEASE call Y/N? I don’t care if it’s illegal! My leg is seizing like a scared hamster!”
Mercedes Garage:
Y/N sighs, slams her water bottle down, and storms off to the FIA office.
“Either let me answer the radio or watch half the grid fake cardiac arrest next weekend. Your call.”
The FIA head blinked.
“Are you… threatening us with medical drama?”
Y/N: “No. I’m promising it.”
Final Scene — Podium
Lando, Charles, and Max are on the podium.
All three hold up signs taped under their champagne bottles:
“BRING BACK DOCTOR Y/N”
The crowd roars.
FIA groans.
Monday Morning: New FIA Bulletin
After further review, Driver Y/N Wolff is now permitted to respond to mid-race wellness concerns, provided:
pairing: F1 Grid x University Student!Journalist!Reader (platonic)
genre: fluff, career-building, journalism, found family
summary: You're just a university student interning at Sky Sports. You’re not flashy, you’re not trying to go viral—you just really love motorsport and asking questions that matter. Somehow, that’s what makes every driver stop and think a little harder when you’re the one holding the mic.
word count: 1,440 words
warnings: none! just good vibes, mild awkwardness, and wholesome paddock friendships
A/N: If you want to be added into the taglist, just let me know.
PT 2
🎥 ☕ scene one — “you’re not like the others”
Your first official interview is with Oscar Piastri.
You nearly choke on your coffee when they assign you to him. "You sure? Me?"
“You’ve done the prep, haven’t you?” your supervisor shrugs. “We’ll see how it goes.”
So, you clutch your tiny reporter notebook like a shield and try to steady your voice when Oscar walks up, relaxed in his McLaren jacket, sipping from his signature water bottle.
You smile nervously. “Hey, Oscar. I’m Y/N—I’m a Sky Sports intern, still in uni, but I’m really grateful for your time.”
He grins. “No worries.”
You clear your throat and ask, “In moments where the car feels like it’s just underperforming and you're still driving at your absolute limit, how do you mentally reset without giving into frustration?”
Oscar pauses. Like, full-on pause.
“…Wow,” he blinks. “No one’s ever asked that before.”
You blink back. “Too much?”
“No—it’s good. It’s really good.”
You don’t even notice the camera guy nodding behind you.
🏁 🧡 scene two — “kimi antonelli thinks you’re cool (he’ll never say it)”
You catch Kimi Antonelli after FP2, and it’s pouring rain. Most of the press has given up. You’re soaked to the knees but you’re determined.
He’s still helmeted, eyes unreadable, when he stops in front of you.
“Quick one,” you say, voice shaking from the cold. “When you’re alone in the car on track, do you ever talk to it? Even just mentally?”
Kimi blinks. His PR rep gives you a look like what the hell kind of question is that.
But Kimi just… nods.
“Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I call it lupo sometimes.”
“Wolf?” you ask.
His mouth twitches into a smile. “Yeah. I guess I like to think of it as hunting. But not violent. More… calculated.”
You scribble it down as your brain screams poetic little guy!
Later, you overhear him mutter to his race engineer:
“She’s way better than the ones that ask who my favorite pizza topping is.”
🏎️ 🌿 scene three — “ollie bearman is trying not to cry”
Ollie Bearman is doing press after a frustrating quali. He’s P17, he’s mad at himself, and he’s had to repeat the phrase “we’ll analyze it” to five different reporters.
You wait until the end.
When it’s your turn, you approach gently, no camera, just voice recording. You ask:
“Do you ever find that the pressure to perform consistently in your rookie season makes you lose perspective of how far you’ve come since F2? Like, do you ever stop and think, ‘I’m actually here now’?”
Ollie stares at you.
You panic. “I—Sorry, was that too—?”
“No, no, I just—” he laughs under his breath, soft and overwhelmed. “I’ve never had anyone ask me that.”
He shifts his weight. “Yeah. I forget. I forget that two years ago I was dreaming about this. Thank you for reminding me.”
You smile. “You’re welcome.”
Later, he waves at you from the pit wall. Like you’re friends.
You might wave back.
📰 📚 scene four — “charles leclerc reads your write-ups”
Charles Leclerc is always cordial, always polished, but you get him during a media day where he’s noticeably tired.
You ask something gentle. Not about strategy or qualifying or Ferrari politics. Just:
“How do you personally define a successful race weekend—even if you don’t podium?”
Charles furrows his brows. “Hmm… That’s a good one. I think… if I feel like I drove in a way that I’d be proud to rewatch, that’s success to me.”
You nod, jotting it down. “That’s a beautiful answer.”
He smiles quietly. “You always ask real questions. I like that.”
You try not to explode internally.
The next day, you find out he read your article. You know this because he commented on the reposted clip:
“This was one of my favorite interviews. Merci :)”
Your phone melts from your friends’ texts.
☕️ 📷 scene five — “lando tries to get you to laugh”
Lando Norris has a bit of a reputation with Sky Sports interviews. He’s cheeky, avoids the serious ones, and usually makes the interns crack.
But you? You’re a rock.
You ask him, mid-weekend:
“In your position now, with race wins under your belt and a leadership role in McLaren, do you feel a responsibility to be a role model for younger drivers—or do you try not to carry that weight?”
Lando tilts his head. “That’s... actually deep.”
You give him a small shrug. “Uni makes me overthink things.”
He grins. “You’re not going to ask my favorite type of cheese?”
“Only if you promise to give a meaningful answer.”
He laughs. You get a real, unfiltered Lando laugh—and he answers the question sincerely.
Afterward, he sticks around longer than expected, sipping water next to you.
“You’re going to be big,” he says, and you nearly drop your mic.
🌧️ 🛠️ scene six — “you ask george russell what no one else dares”
George Russell has done a thousand interviews. He can autopilot through media like a champ.
But then you ask:
“Do you think people still underestimate the emotional toll of losing even when you're in a top team like Mercedes?”
George actually lowers his mic.
“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter. “People forget we’re still human in a sport that treats us like numbers.”
You nod. “You’ve always carried yourself with a lot of composure. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
He looks at you for a long moment, and then he says:
“I hope you stay in motorsport. We need more voices like yours.”
You record his quote, heart pounding.
He claps you gently on the shoulder as he leaves.
🎧 🍂 scene seven — “lewis remembers your name”
You didn’t expect Lewis Hamilton to know who you were.
You’re just an intern.
But when he spots you in the paddock one day, he actually waves. “Y/N, right?”
You freeze. “Uh. Yeah.”
He walks up, smiling warmly. “You asked Charles that thing about success without the podium. I liked that.”
You smile, stunned. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”
He leans slightly closer and says, “Keep asking the questions no one else will. You’ve got something, I can tell.”
You try to play it cool, but the moment he walks away, you text your uni group chat in full caps.
🧢 📋 scene eight — “you’re becoming… kind of a legend”
It starts small: one or two drivers pointing at you mid-paddock and smiling.
Then Kimi starts nodding at you during press briefings.
Then Ollie starts recommending you when media slots get assigned.
Eventually, a Ferrari comms person says:
“We’ll take the interview… but only if Y/N is asking.”
One week later, fans start clipping your interviews.
Tweets go viral like:
“who IS this sky sports intern asking soul-crushing questions and making every f1 driver soft??”
“every time y/n interviews someone, it’s like therapy and journalism had a baby”
“ollie bearman crying in the media pen was not on my bingo card”
You don’t mean to become a paddock icon.
But somehow, with your quiet curiosity and genuine love for the sport, you do.
✨ 💌 final scene — “you didn’t just earn a job—you earned a place”
When the Sky Sports producer calls you into the office at the end of the season, you expect to be handed a goodbye coffee mug and a LinkedIn recommendation.
Instead, they say:
“We want to offer you a permanent position. Full-time. Starting after you graduate.”
