Anyone Whos Seen My Account Knows Batman And F1 Are 2 Of My Favorite Things In This World

Anyone who’s seen my account knows Batman and F1 are 2 of my favorite things in this world❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Something Immortal CL16 - 01. Fate

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne loves his kids. He really do. To the point he's going to buy his son a whole ass Formula One team.

Word Count: 5.6K

Masterlist Next

It’s a fairytale-like story where a billionaire stumbled upon a baby – fresh out of her mother’s womb, still red and wrinkled – on his doorstep.

There’s a note, written by someone who he can faintly recognize as one of his one-night stands months ago. A messy note with an almost unreadable handwriting declaring that she doesn’t want to have any responsibility for this baby. That as the sperm donor, now it’s his responsibility to take care of the child.

He stared at the note before blue eyes turned their way toward the baby once again. And then, as if the baby recognized his stare, blearily eyes blinked.

It was at that moment that the man fell in love with the baby in front of him.

It was also the start of Bruce Wayne and y/n Wayne’s story.

Y/n understands that her father is not a perfect man.

He had made many wrong choices, choices that he believed were the best but in reality, it’s the choice that ended up doing more hurt than comfort. 

Communication is not his forte, as well as baring his emotion to those around him. There are many instances where her father intended to say one thing but, in the end, the words that escaped his mouth are more biting. More blunt. More heartless.

She knows it’s normal for someone to have a problem conveying their emotions. But in their family? In their family where there are far too many misunderstandings and far more unstable emotions as well as the tendency to take their own conclusion without consulting with anyone?

Well.

Jason used to call her the perfect child. The only child that grew up within the walls of the Wayne manor that ended up with a stable emotion and right mind. That she’s the perfect princess that Bruce Wayne always wanted. Unlike him, goes unheard. You’re the favorite, the one he favors the most, the one that he loves the most, goes unheard. Unlike him, once again, goes unheard.

It’s a bit funny to hear the man say that, because all her life, y/n is sure that she’s the least favorite child.

When she was a child, Dick had always been the golden boy. The perfect partner for Batman when they’re wearing masks and a charming happy child off mask. It’s a bit petty, but there was a time in y/n’s life when she felt a lot of resentment for the older. After all, she’s Bruce’s biological daughter, she’s the child that fell into Bruce’s life first, and yet-

And yet why didn’t he spend more time with her? Why didn’t he always explicitly forbid her to venture through the night like he and Dick?

Why was she never enough?

Of course, that resentment was short-lived because it’s Dick. Dick with his playful laughs and sunshine smile. Dick who always held her hands, guiding her away into some new adventure that he had created a mere minutes prior. Dick is the best big brother anyone could ever asked for. He always made time for her – even to play with her dolls or play pretend – always took care of and protected her in school, and always prioritized her over anything in his life – even Robin.

It’s hard to hate Dick, even after his huge fight with Bruce and his moving out of the Wayne manor. It’s hard to hate Dick, even though he had only hugged her in the middle of the night, muttering that he couldn’t stand living in the manor anymore, that B is beyond reasoning, and disappeared the next day.

It was hard to accept, that her perfect big brother suddenly disappeared from her life. That she was back to being the only child. That the only contact that her big brother made was the occasional phone calls or the screaming match that she sometimes heard from the cave.

What if she also wants to live with her big brother?

What if she also missed Dick?

Maybe that’s why Jason had always been so special to her. An older brother that Bruce found whilst in the middle of stealing Batmobile’s tires. She knows that Jason is not perfect. He has a potty mouth and often says rude things in a fit of anger. His temper was also extraordinarily short, and a bit unpredictable.

But Jason always tries.

He had always tried to be the older brother that y/n needed in her lonely life. He had always tried to make up all of his brash personality and short fuse. He had always tried to apologize first, always tried to keep up with all of her hobbies and interests. Always tried to be there for her. An older brother who often read her to sleep and talked sense to her father. An older brother who fills in the huge gap that Dick left behind. 

An older brother who had promised her that he would always be right by her side. That he will be there during her dance recital and her university graduation. That he will be there during her first date to give her lover a shovel talk. That he will always be there to make up for the lack of her father and their oldest brother’s presence.

To be the perfect older brother for her.

An older brother who died.

Y/n love for cars started when Jason stole one of Bruce’s Ferrari.

It’s a custom—a vintage beauty in the color of midnight and the only one that exists in the world. Her dad received it years ago as a thank-you for his massive investment in the company. Y/n knows that it’s one of her dad’s favorite cars. He rarely used it, only for special occasions, and he often came to the garage and polished it personally.

Most of your siblings shared that sentiment. Even those who don’t really care about cars appreciate their beauty.

So it’s normal for Jason – an automotive enthusiast, who has his own personalized bike and follows Formula 1 religiously – to be entranced by it. He had taken a liking to it since his Robin days when Dad once took him for a drive with that Ferrari. Many things had happened between those times and current times, but it seems his love for the car didn’t diminish.

Y/n was in the garage when Jason appeared, whistling and keys jiggling in his hand.

“I thought we’re not allowed to use that one,” pointed out the woman, grabbing his leather jacket in a sad attempt to stop him.

Jason raised an eyebrow before he raised his hand to ruffle the top of your hair. “As long as he doesn’t know I’ll be fine,” he scoffed.

“I bet Alfred knows.”

“Alfie knows everything.”

Y/n continues to stare at him as Jason reaches the Ferrari. You could practically see all the love and adoration in his eyes as he walked around the car as if he was about to inspect it.

“You know,” y/n started. “I could tell Dad.”

The older male stopped at that. “You wouldn’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I could,” you shrugged.

“What do you want in exchange for your silence?”

You grinned. “When you take it out for a drive, I want to go too.”

Jason seemed to contemplate that bargain for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “Deal.”

Truth to be told, it’s not like y/n was interested in automotive or cars back then. Back then, she had just seen it as an opportunity to become closer to Jason. After all, his relationship with the family is tense during the best days and downright horrible during the worst ones.

Y/n had been hesitant about approaching the man after the whole Red Hood and the… Jason being dead… thing that she had elected to stay away from him for some time. Most of the time, the man doesn’t even come to the manor if he can help it and only visits during vigilante business. Considering y/n is not a vigilante, well.

Jason had been her favorite brother. He had been the brother who understood her perfectly. The sibling that is the closest to her age.

The sibling that she had grieved for the longest.

Of course, she had been overjoyed at his return, despite all of the killings and the not-right-in-the-head part. It’s still Jason after all. It’s still the brother who likes to accompany her in the library and the brother who helps her with her English homework.

It’s still the older brother that she loves with all her heart, despite all the differences and all the things in between.

Jason still laughed with his full body, eyes still crinkling in amusement every time he found something funny. He still loves to read those cheesy romance books and believes in true love. Jason is still Jason and that’s all that matters.

That’s why she had seen it as an opportunity to once again, grow closer to Jason. To rebuild the relationship that had years ago. To become siblings once again.

She’s not even sure why Jason agreed to take her alone, not that she’s complaining. She just hopped into the car – excitement high and brimming – as she began thinking what kind of conversation they could have or if should they stop by for food afterward-

Though, in the end, both y/n and Jason crashed the car.

In both of your defenses, Jason – who was driving the car at that time – didn’t mean it. The both of you were high in euphoria and the thrill of high speed after all. And the road near the Wayne Manor is always empty considering, well, it’s also owned by the Wayne family, so no one is ever in it.

It’s not your or Jason’s fault that they didn’t predict a stray cat will pass through the road.

Y/n had screeched and Jason had cursed to hell back as he swerved. It’s only due to the man’s extensive experience as a vigilante and doing many many car chases throughout Gotham that the crash is not a horrible one.

But still, the custom Ferrari had a big dent and scratch mark on its side. Certainly not something that the both of you can hide from. 

Considering that it’s your dad’s favorite car, it’s only normal for him to be mad. But one look at your bruised forehead and Jason’s bleeding noise squashed down all of that anger and replaced it with worry and fretting. It seems his love for his children greatly overpowers any fond memories he has of that car.

However, it doesn’t mean that both of you came out of that mess scot-free. As a punishment, Bruce told both you and Jason to go fix the car.

Fixing the car is a generous term considering you and Jason only had to bring the car to something like a garage specializing in Ferrari or something. But though, it was also the moment that you started to build your relationship with Jason once again.

“Why do you like it so much though?” you had asked.

“Because it’s cool,” grunted out Jason as the both of you lounged in one of his safehouses. The TV is on, showing a Formula 1 race being broadcast. “Look, I know it just looks like cars going around in circles but you gotta watch the whole thing to understand the thrill!”

Letting out a hum, you settled once again on the sofa.

“Are you interested in it?” you asked in it. “To… you know, becoming your daytime job.”

“Dunno, being a crime lord is kind of a daytime kind of thing.”

You let out a huff of laughter at that. “You know that’s not what I mean,” you said, nudging him by the shoulder. “Dad is… you know how he’s trying to announce your revival publicly right?”

Y/n knows Jason knows that. Practically everyone in the family knows it at this point.

“And well, for your civilian persona, maybe having a daytime job that’s not borderline illegal could help.”

Jason let out a scoff at that. “Psh,” he said. “I’m like, way too old to start my carreer in racing,” waved Jason off, though Y/n can sense a hint of disappointment on his tone. “There’s no team who wants me anyway, what with my anger issue and bout of madness.”

The female frowned at that. “You know that’s not an issue,” she said.

“The hell does that mean?”

“If you want to become a Formula One driver, or anything – really – you just only need to say it,” said the woman. “Dad will practically buy you a private island if you asked him, let alone a Formula One team.”

Her brother stared at her, eyes blinking, and y/n merely kept her gaze on the screen in front of them.

“Are you- are you being serius?” Chocked out Jason.

“Jay,” started the female. “Dad id practically building a zoo on our backyard for Damian’s pure shit and giggles,” she said, reminding the older male about the construction that had been happening for some time and Damian’s dedication to it. “If Dad thinks you being a Formula One driver can help you to your… recovery, or you being closer to the family, he’s going to buy the whole paddock at this point.”

“… You’re being serious.”

“Obviously,” said y/n. “What? You don’t want to?”

“I don’t-“ Bit out Jason, “Have any time for that.”

Jason said that he doesn’t have any time for that. Not that he doesn’t wants it.

Y/n remember Jason’s childhood bedroom back in the manor. The old Formula One poster that had faded over time. The miniature Ferrari Formula One car that had been customized gift from the company, a special gift requested by Dad all those years ago. Or that day years ago, when Dad had taken a much younger y/n and Jason to Monza to watch the race.

She stared back at the race that’s showing on the screen in front of them.

Well, she thought. It won’t be too hard to convince dad to buy a formula one team.

You see, the thing is, contrary to popular belief, Bruce Wayne doesn’t want his children to become vigilantes like him. After all, he knows best how dangerous the job can be. How with a single mistake, a single misstep, it will be your life that is in danger.

He had been a bit accepting of the idea after Dick. Bruce knows that he’s not a great father, that he has made way too many mistakes, but seeing how great of a hero Dick is, the older man had accepted the fact that he may not have been a great father, but a great mentor.

However, that kind of thought soon changed.

After Jason, after Ethiopia and its explosion, and Joker’s manic laugh, he doesn’t want any of his children to become a vigilante. He doesn’t want to lose any of his children anymore. Bruce had been scared for the day that y/n would come to him and declare her desire to become a crime-fighting vigilante to come.

And yet, that day never came. Instead, y/n had come to him holding a stack of papers that Bruce recognized as his own father’s research paper. There’s a bright grin on her face, so much like Martha Wayne’s, as you declare, “I want to become a doctor!” said the girl. “Just like Grandpa Thomas!”

Oh, Bruce loves all of his children equally. He had loved each of them with the same intensity. Yet, at this moment, all he could see was the crying baby that was left on his doorstep all those years ago—the result of a careless one-night stand when he was too young even to manage his grief properly.

Y/n had been the first child that he raised and was even under his care years before he took in Dick as his ward. Bruce was practically a child himself when y/n appeared in his life, just a crying baby that was dumped on his doorstep by a mother who didn’t want her. He had made many mistakes and actually managed a somehow decent job at the whole being a father thing due to Alfred’s helping hand. She had been his only daughter for so long and seeing her like this, wanting to become someone just like his late father-

Maybe, just maybe. Maybe Bruce did a good job in this whole fathering thing.

That happened years ago, and now fast forward to now, y/n has become the youngest professor in Thomas Wayne Hospital. Considering her achievements and who her father is, it’s a no-brainer that she will take up the director seat soon enough. She too, alongside Jason, had been the face of Wayne Industry charities where her older brother focuses on helping street children to have a more stable future, she focuses on improving Gotham’s horrid healthcare system.

And of course, her side job.

The doctor to her siblings’ recklessness.

“Ow!” Hissed out Tim as y/n began stitching his wound in the med bay. “I didn’t expect it to be that painful-“

“Of course, it’s painful,” answered the woman with a scowl. “And you’re the one that’s insisting on not using any anesthesia, so suck it up like a big boy.”

“You know I got all sleepy if I had anesthesia,” grumbled the younger male. “I need to study a case file later tonight-“

“Tim,” cut off y/n. “When did you last sleep?”

Tim blinked. “… Last night?”

“Drake is lying,” interrupted Damian as he appeared next to the girl with a glare in his eyes. “He was last asleep approximately 65 hours ago,” continues the boy, tattling his older brother without a care in the world.

“You-“

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!” Yelled y/n as she finished out the stitch. “What did I tell you about the importance of sleep!?”

“Well-“

“You’re still growing! I know that you just took over the CEO position and there are case files that you need to look up to, but how many times do I have to tell you that resting your body is also equally important!?”

The younger can’t even come up with a retort as he resigned himself on the onslaught of scolding that’s being rained upon him.

Dick is laughing easily besides them, fully enjoying the whole debacle.

It didn’t took y/n long to finish up tending on her sibling injuries before she moved towards where Bruce is sitting.

“I’m not injured,” he replied, though at the same time, letting his daughter to examined him closely.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrow at that, a gesture that his own mother likes to make when she knows that Bruce is lying, before she began examining him. It was silent around them, as Dick had decided to haul Tim up to his bedroom.

“Dad,” started y/n as she bandaged a small wound on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce hummed.

“If I ask you to buy something, are you going to do it?”

That made him raised an eyebrow. Out of all of his children, y/n is probably the one who has the largest personal income besides Tim. It’s rare for the woman to ask Bruce something ever since she has her own money.

She’s probably going to ask him buy something expensive.

“Depends,” he replied. “What do you want?”

“A Formula One team?”

Huh.

Bruce has so many questions at that. 

He knows that a few months ago that y/n and Jason had crashed his Ferrari. As a punishment, he had asked them to fixed it together. He also knows that the both of them had been bonding over it. Y/n even visited Jason often enough to know the man’s daily habit at this point.

“What’s this all of the sudden?” he asked instead. “I didn’t know that you’re that… passionate about Formula One.”

It’s not that he’s against or doesn’t have the money to buy a Formula One team. Hell, he could probably buy the entirety of Formula One and go on his merry way. Wayne Industry is trying to expand into the automotive world too these past years – something that had caused Tim a great headache lately – but his daughter who previously doesn’t have any interest in Formula One suddenly asked him to buy a team there?

“It’s not for me, obviously,” said the woman. “It’s for… Jason.”

“Jason?” Bruce blinked.

“Lately we’ve been bonding a lot,” started y/n. “It’s great to have my older brother back, and we’ve been bonding a lot over Formula One because if you remember, Jason had always liked it, even before… everything.”

Bruce does remember it. The weekend that he spent in Monza with younger Jason and y/n had always been one of his fondest memory.

“I think Jason had wanted to become a Formule One driver, once.”

That, is something that Bruce doesn’t know.

“He obviously can’t right now, but if you buy a team, he could… I don’t know, do some testing, go on a simulation, or if god’s willing, maybe even race for the team,” explained y/n. “I know that this seems like a bizzare request dad, but I think this can make Jason really happy.”

An image of Jason appeared inside of his mind.

Of Jason scowling in front of him. Of Jason who had begged him to choose him over his killer. Of his son, laying lifeless on his arm, body cooling rapidly as the time stopped around him.

Of Jason, laughing and smiling decked in Ferrari colors in Monza all those years ago.

It’s an easy choice for Bruce Wayne- no, as Jason’s dad.

There’s a lot of hustle and bustle during the Monaco Grand Prix. This is not uncommon, considering how many celebrities or another important figures that attended that particular GP.

Though usually, Charles tuned them all out. After all, this is the Monaco GP. His home race. Monaco GP is probably the Grand Prix that matters the most to him. 

He really can’t help it. It has been his childhood dream to race in the streets of Monaco. Charles can remember vividly his childhood memories when he would watch the Monaco GP from his friends’ balcony. To watch the cars, speed up through the streets that he’s familiar with, just admiring and daydreaming about his dream as a Formula 1 driver. Years later, Charles managed to become a Formula 1 driver. Not only a Formula 1 driver but a Ferrari Formula 1 driver. It’s everything that he had ever wanted and yet-

It’s only losses after losses. Disappointments after disappointments. A string of failed races every time it’s time for him to race in his home country. People like to call it his Monaco curse. Charles personally found it ridiculous.

And yet they’re all living in a world where superheroes and supervillains roam around the land. They’re living in a world where there’s an alien and a man who dressed up as a bat posing as their heroes. Where villains who wants world domination appear every week.

So maybe, a curse is not something too far off.

Nonetheless, every time the Monaco GP turned up; it put him in a pensive mood. There are just so many things inside of his mind. The excitement of the race, all the bits of knowledge that he had to know regarding the car and the track, the fear of disappointment that kept hanging on his back over and over again.

Too many things to contemplate and brood about for him to listen to the idle chatter inside the garage. This year though, he can’t help but tune in.

“There’s an important guest in attendance,” said his manager during lunch. Charles eyed the chicken that was being served in front of his manager almost hungrily before he turned his gaze toward the sad plate of salad in front of him. “You know Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah,” said Charles in realization. Charles is not even an American and he’s very familiar with the name Bruce Wayne and the Wayne legacy. To be honest, it’s harder to not know the man considering he’s gracing every news outlet every other week. “The richest man in the world?”

“Bingo,” nodded the man. “He’ll attend the Monaco race, with some of his children,” he continued. “Apparently he’s a big fan of cars, and there’s even rumors that the Wayne Industry is going to acquire a team in Formula One soon.”

Oh, that’s news even for him. He wonders if FIA is going to expand the sport or maybe the Wayne Enterprise is going to buy one of the teams. Haas maybe?

“I see,” murmured Charles. “Is he going to stay in one of the team garages or?”

“He’ll be staying with us,” answered his manager. “His father had saved Ferrari from a financial crisis a few decades back, and Bruce Wayne is also one of the major stakeholders in Ferrari. The guy even got a custom-made Ferrari a few years ago… wonder where that went through.”

Well, if Charles also had a custom-made Ferrari, he would parade it around everywhere. But if you’re as rich as Bruce Wayne maybe a custom-made Ferrari is nothing.

Despite everything, Bruce Wayne didn’t actually show up until Sunday, the actual race day. Charles is sitting on top of tires just outside of the Ferrari garage, trying to get into the right head space when there seem to be clamors around him. He heard him before he saw him, as he could hear the increase of camera shutters and conversations.

Bruce Wayne is a large and domineering figure. He’s tall, really tall. Charles thinks there’s a couple of inches in difference in their height, but what really caught his attention is how built the guy is. Formula One drivers are expected to stay light, because the lighter they are, the faster their car will go. He has been way too used to seeing tall and lean men – the other drivers – that Bruce Wayne’s built body made him do a double-check.

Accompanying him, are a younger man and a woman – his children it seems. The man is also tall, taller than Charles but not as tall as Wayne, but he seems to compensate for it with pure muscle. He has tan skin as well as a tuft of dark hair with white streaks in front. The woman is also tall, her face showing few similarities with Wayne. Different from his father and brother who are decked in all black, the woman is wearing a red silk top. Clearly showing the whole paddock the team that she’s rooting for.

Ferrari’s chairman – John Elkann - is walking beside Wayne and is clearly pleased by the declaration from the woman.

“And of course, our driver!” said John when they were nearing the garage. Instantly all eyes were on Charles and almost automatically, a smile appeared on his lips. “Bruce, this is one of our drivers, Charles Leclerc, and Charles, you know Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes,” said Charles, increasing his charm to the max. Being on a good term with Bruce Wayne not only will benefit the racing team but Ferrari as a whole. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

Wayne laughed cheerily at that, shaking his hand with Charles. “It’s an honor for me too,” said the man. “I’ve been a big fan of Formula One for so long, only now do I have the time to watch a race live.”

Charles doubts that. Bruce Wayne is famous for all of his vacations and playboy lifestyle – the latter part had tamed a bit in recent years, considering all the children that he had now. No doubt, if he’s really a fan of Formula One, the man would have found time to watch a race or two.

“And my children too are big fans,” grinned Wayne as he motioned for both of his children to come closer. “This is Jason, my second eldest,” he put an arm around the man who nodded his head towards Charles. “And this is y/n, my youngest daughter.”

For the first time since their arrival, Charles got a good look on their face and-

Oh.

Oh.

Y/n Wayne is probably the most beautiful woman that Charles had ever seen in his life. Perfectly styled hair, red lipstick across her lips – perfectly complimenting her pearly teeth – and how her outfit today fits her like a glove. She looks really beautiful, almost unreal. It’s a really big compliment because he had seen many beautiful women – models, influencers, celebrities – but no one seems able to compare with the ethereal beauty of Y/n Wayne.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” said Y/n with a large smile. “As you can see,” at this, she motioned her top, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m rooting for Ferrari, so I wish you good luck during the race.”

Fuck. Her voice sounds really nice too. Charles needs to open his mouth and answer the woman, but his voice seems to be stuck in his throat. 

Finally, after a couple of second of silence, he managed to say, “Yeah,” said the driver. “Yeah, thank you.”

A snort cut through his haze, making Charles turn his eyes towards the older Wayne’s sibling. Jason Wayne stares at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes showing as if he knows something that Charles doesn’t know. 

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” said the driver turning his attention towards Bruce Wayne, trying to steer the conversation away from his awkwardness. Away from y/n Wayne’s perfectly styled hair and a perfect smile. “I was told you will be staying in the garage, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wayne. “I’m really excited about it, right Jason? y/n?”

“For sure,” answered Jason, talking for the first time since their arrival here. “Heard you have a shitty luck in your home race, gonna need lots of good luck, no?”

And ouch.

Charles knows that his home race curse is a bit infamous, but being told like this directly in front of his face is hurting his ego a bit. It’s not like he can give the guy a retort back considering he’s Bruce Wayne’s son – one of their biggest sponsors – but still, he can’t help the small twitch of annoyance that appeared on his lips.

“Jason,” said y/n, nudging the elder’s side.

Jason rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Sorry about that,” said y/n. “He’s a bit prickly after the long flight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” dismissed Charles good-naturedly, not wanting to offend their guests. “My Monaco curse has its own reputation after all.”

“Don’t call it a curse,” laughed y/n. “Someone once said to me that if you acknowledge something as a curse, it will only bring bad luck.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” he said, a bit intrigued. It’s an interesting concept after all. 

“Yes,” replied the female with a smile. Her eyes crinkled, only making it far more beautiful and show-stopping. “Maybe it’s luck? Luck for me?”

“For you?”

“Well, I think if I managed to see the il Predestino first race win in Monaco I would be a really lucky girl.”

And well, Charles can’t help but bark out a laugh at that. The idea itself is a bit ridiculous, but somehow, it only warms his heart. The woman seems to be amused at his sudden bout of laughter as she too, regards him with some kind of amusement in her eyes.

“That certainly one of the ways to see it,” said the driver, amusement dripping on his tone. “Thank you though, I’ll remember your words during the race and maybe it can serve as my personal lucky charm.”

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Please do,” replied the woman. “It’s every girl’s dream to be remembered by Charles Leclerc after all.”

“Every girl’s dream huh?” answered the driver. “Is it also yours?”

“Well, for one, I’m a woman,” said y/n grinning.

“Mhm, I can see that-”

“That’s enough of that,” Cut off Jason and it made Charles remember that it’s not only him and y/n in the room. The older of the Wayne children stared at the both of them with something akin to disapproval that made Charles flicker his eyes to where Bruce Wayne was. Thankfully, he’s deep in a conversation with John. “I really don’t want to see my sister flirting with someone,” this he made a vague gagging sound, “and Bruce is leaving, so we better get going.”

“Ah,” said y/n, turning her eyes towards where her father is. “Jason is right, it’s really nice to meet you, Charles.”

He really can’t help the twinge of disappointment that appeared inside of him. He had been enjoying their conversation after all. The driver wishes that he doesn’t have a race soon so that they can have more time just getting to know each other. “It’s also really nice to meet you, y/n.”

The woman smiled at that before she leaned closer, startling him a bit. “Let’s continue our conversation later at the after-party,” she whispered, giving him a wink before she leaned back and said again in a louder voice. “Anyway, good luck out there. We’re really looking forward to the race later.”

Soon after that, Bruce Wayne’s entourage moved on, no doubt exploring the paddock with Ferrari’s chairman, leaving Charles standing there staring.

“Stop that gawking,” muttered his managed, snapping him out of his trance. “We all know y/n Wayne is pretty.”

Charles spluttered. “I was-“ he began fumbling. “I was not gawking at her.”

“Mhm,” hummed his manager. “Anyway, get your head right on your shoulder loverboy, the race is starting soon.”

The driver grumbled as he turned around towards the garage.

He’s Charles Leclerc. He does not gawk. He’s not-

Y/n Wayne’s beautiful smile flashed across his mind.

Oh.

Well, he’s a simple man after all.

SO FUN!

Playing Cupid

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: convinced that you and Max must be the most oblivious people on earth, the rest of the grid decide to take matters into their own hands

“Hey, I bet I can beat you to the debrief room!” Max’s voice carries through the paddock, his familiar smile in place.

You roll your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. “You always say that and yet here we are.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face, “Optimism, it’s just part of my charm.”

“You mean your delusion?” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

There’s a pause as you both make your way, the chatter of crew members a steady background hum as Max’s laughter and your shared jokes create a bubble around the two of you.

“You two are like the dynamic duo of Red Bull,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall with his signature grin stretching across his face. “Batman and Robin vibes.”

You glance at Max, raising an eyebrow. “Batman and Robin? More like Tom and Jerry.”

Max snorts. “Which one am I?”

“Definitely Tom. Always chasing but never quite catching up.” You stick out your tongue playfully.

Daniel shakes his head with a laugh, “The chemistry though! It’s electric. The entire grid sees it.”

You look puzzled, glancing at Max whose face mirrors your own. “What are you on about, Danny?”

Before he can reply, Max’s race engineer joins in, “He’s not wrong. It’s like watching two magnets circle each other, not knowing they’re meant to connect.”

Max shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed at GP’s observation, “We’re just good friends. Teammates. That’s all.”

You nod in agreement. “Exactly! Just because we joke around doesn’t mean—”

“—there’s anything more,” Max finishes for you, the two of you so in sync it makes GP and Daniel exchange amused glances.

“Whatever you say,” GP chuckles.

The day wears on, filled with the usual press conferences, race strategies, and banter. But now, there’s an underlying hum, a question that seems to have spread among the drivers and teams: what if?

In the evening, as you’re about to make your way back to the hotel, Lewis sidles up to you. “You and Max, huh? That’s something. The fans will love it.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re just teammates. That’s all.”

He winks. “For now.”

You just laugh it off, not sure how to respond.

Later that night, you and Max find yourselves in a private corner of your hotel restaurant, both tired but satisfied. “Did Lewis say something weird to you too?” Max asks, sipping his drink.

You nod. “About us. I mean, we’re close, but all this talk ... it’s a bit strange, right?”

He sighs, “Yeah. Just because two people get along doesn’t mean they’re ... you know, together together.”

You chuckle. “Exactly. We’re friends. Best friends. That’s all.”

***

“Truth or dare!” The booming voice with an enthusiastic Australian accent echoes across the lounge where a few of the drivers have gathered post-qualifying, hoping to unwind.

Max groans from beside you. “Do we have to? Every time it ends up embarrassing at least one of us.”

You nudge him, laughing. “Oh, come on. Scared of a little dare, Verstappen?”

Daniel’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Exactly. What are you so afraid of, Maxie? Maybe revealing a certain ... secret?”

Lando, lounging on a sofa, chips in, “Or maybe singing a serenade for a certain someone?”

Max’s cheeks turn a shade redder while you feel your own face heat up. “I think Danny and Lando are in cahoots,” you whisper to Max, who chuckles in agreement.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes, “Truth or dare. Bring it on.”

Daniel’s smile widens even further, a clear sign that he’s up to no good. “Okay, Max. Truth or dare?”

Max hesitates for a split second. “Dare.”

Daniel rubs his hands together with a surprisingly convincing evil smirk. “I dare you to serenade ...” He deliberately drags out the suspense, glancing around the room before pointing directly at you, “... your lovely teammate here.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. “Oh, this is going to be good!”

Max looks at you apologetically but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, alright. What song?”

You shake your head, already giggling in anticipation of what is to come. “Surprise me.”

Gathering courage, Max stands up, clearing his throat dramatically. He looks right into your eyes, a playful glint in his, and starts singing “I Want It That Way” … mostly.

“Tell me why … I keep crashing into walls. Tell me why … I can’t seem to win them all. Tell me why … I never want to hear you say, box box box box box.”

You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face. The room is filled with laughter, claps, and a few playful boos (mostly from Charles who seem partially traumatized by the mention of boxing).

“That’s officially the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say, sarcasm dripping from your words.

Max takes a bow, still red-faced. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

As the night winds down and the group starts to disperse, Daniel sidles up to you. “Soooooo …. did the serenade work?”

You laugh, “It was entertaining, to say the least. But Max and I ...” You trail off, not sure how to put your relationship into words.

“It’s alright,” Daniel nods understandingly and for a moment you actually think he might stop scheming to get the two of you together. But then he winks, “Sometimes the best things take time.”

***

“Formula 1 is as much about connections off the track as it is on,” Lewis begins, his voice smooth, measured, a practiced art in front of the cameras during the press conference. Flashbulbs click and reporters scribble notes. “Sometimes those connections are ... more than what meets the eye. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You raise an eyebrow. Next to you, Max shuffles slightly awkwardly.

Before you can answer, Lewis continues, eyes glinting with mischief, “For instance, teams with two drivers who might be ... more than just teammates?” His gaze flits subtly between you and Max, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

Max laughs it off. “Talking about you and George? Or was it back with Nico?”

A ripple of laughter flows through the conference room and you bite back a smile, appreciating Max’s deflection.

Lewis grins, completely unfazed. “Good one. But no, I’ve heard some rumors about another team ... one that rhymes with Bed Rull, perhaps?”

Now you feel the need to intervene, “Rumors are just that, Lewis. Rumors. Max and I are teammates, good friends. Nothing more.” You keep your voice light but firm.

“But isn’t it interesting,” Lewis ponders aloud, “how two people can spend so much time together, share so many experiences, practically think with the same brain, and still not notice a ... deeper connection?”

Max’s eyes meet yours briefly, a momentary search for an answer, a reaction perhaps. But as quick as the look is, it’s gone.

After finishing up with media, Charles shoots a dimpled smile your way. “Quite the interview by Lewis, huh? He’s not usually one for gossip.”

You laugh. “Trying to stir the pot, I guess. Maybe he’s bored? Everyone loves a good love story.”

Charles nods, his gaze a bit more serious. “But sometimes … sometimes rumors are built on a foundation of truth. Even if you don’t see it.”

You mull over his words but before you can respond, Max joins the conversation. “Is everyone becoming a relationship expert these days or something?”

Charles just shrugs with an impish grin. “Maybe we all just want to see our friends happy.”

The comment gives you pause. Is that all this is? Friendly teasing? Or is there something more you’re missing? Something right in front of you that you’re not seeing?

But for now, as you and Max head back towards the Red Bull motorhome, you push those thoughts aside, determined to focus on the upcoming race and the challenge it presents.

***

“Fancy seeing you here!” Your team principal greets you, his tone feigning surprise as you walk into the upscale restaurant.

Max squints at him suspiciously. “You invited us both here, Christian.”

“Yes, a lovely team dinner. Just the three of us,” Christian confirms with an overly innocent smile as he guides you both to a table by the window.

The setting is intimate, with soft lighting and plush seating. A live harpist is serenading diners. It’s definitely not your typical “team dinner.”

“Christian,” you muse aloud, “this place looks a tad extravagant for a casual dinner, does it not?”

He shrugs, a smile still in place. “Consider it a treat for the team’s recent successes.”

Before you can continue your line of questioning, a waiter approaches to take your orders. You and Max share a conspiratorial glance.

“I’ll have the lobster bisque to start. With extra lobster,” Max begins, deciding to indulge.

“I’ll take the osetra caviar. You can bring the entire tin. With extra blini,” you add, grinning as you see Christian’s eyes widen.

Christian clears his throat. “Well, I actually just remembered an urgent call I have to take. Enjoy the meal, you two.” And with that, he hurries away, leaving you both chuckling.

Max leans in with a whisper, “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Absolutely. Let’s make him pay ... literally. He did say it’s on him.”

Safe to say that you both enjoy the finest dishes the restaurant has to offer. “At this rate,” you joke as the waiter opens your second bottle of ridiculously expensive wine, “Red Bull is going to break the budget cap because of catering. Again.”

Throughout the meal, you and Max discuss the recent upgrades to your cars, dissecting each detail with genuine interest and passion. The conversation flows easily but is entirely centered on racing.

Unbeknownst to you both, scattered around the restaurant are various team members and drivers in disguises, watching your every move. From Daniel donning a fake mustache as he pretends to be a waiter to Yuki wearing a chef’s hat peeking out of the kitchen, they’re all there and all invested in the outcome of the evening.

From his spot behind the bar, Lando, sporting a terrible wig, groans. “They’re just talking about tire degradation! This is so frustrating.”

Charles, disguised as a saxophonist with a carefully trimmed goatee, chimes in, “I thought this would be it. This setting is perfect.”

Back at your table, you raise your glass. “To another successful season and having amazing teammates.”

Max clinks his glass against yours, laughing. “Cheers to that!”

As you leave, completely oblivious to your undercover audience, the collective sigh of exasperation from the team members is almost audible even over the live music.

***

“What’s this?” You lift the elegantly wrapped package from your locker, examining the tag which reads: From Fernando - Enjoy the relaxation.

Max, peering over your shoulder, also pulls out a similar package from his locker. “Looks like we both got gifts.”

Ripping open the delicate paper, you pull out a luxurious pamphlet. The cover boasts a serene image of a spa, complete with candle-lit rooms and peaceful landscapes. Max’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s got the same one.

“A couples spa retreat?” Max reads aloud, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Really?”

Fernando, passing by at that exact moment, grins cheekily. “Thought you two could use some relaxation and a day off the track.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” you reply, peering up at him skeptically, “But why a couples retreat?”

Fernando shrugs, the picture of innocence. “It had the best reviews. Just trying to be a good friend.”

Max laughs, rolling his eyes. “Well, thanks for the ... thoughtful gift. Might as well use it.”

And so, you find yourself at the spa, wrapped in plush robes as the gentle hum of soft music and flowing water fills the air.

Max, his feet soaking in a warm tub and a clay mask setting on his face, looks over at you. “You think this was another one of their schemes to get us together?”

You laugh, dipping your toes into the fragrant water. “At this point, nothing would surprise me.”

The day goes on with various treatments — massages, scrubs, and mud baths. But instead of talking about personal lives or diving deep into emotions, you both end up discussing the possible benefits of the treatments.

“You know,” Max muses as he receives a deep tissue massage, “this technique might help with muscle fatigue after long races.”

You, getting a foot massage, nod in agreement. “Absolutely. And the mud bath we took earlier? Might help with detoxifying after particularly sweaty race weekends.”

The spa therapists, used to couples sharing intimate moments, are clearly bemused by your discussions.

Later, as you both relax in the sauna, Fernando sneaks a peek through a small window, hoping to catch a romantic moment. But to his chagrin, he finds you both animatedly discussing the aerodynamics of your cars.

“Did you notice the slight drag on the left during the last turn?” You ask, wiping away sweat.

Max nods. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. We need to discuss that with the team.”

Fernando sighs, leaning against the wall outside the sauna. “They’re hopeless,” he mutters to himself.

He approaches you both later, looking slightly defeated. “So, the spa day? Did it perhaps help ... bring you two closer?”

You smile, patting him on the shoulder. “It was amazing for our driving techniques. Thanks, Fernando.”

Max nods in agreement, “Best spa day ever. We’re thinking of making it a regular thing.”

Fernando groans, realizing that his plan, like all the others, has somehow backfired. “I give up. You two are impossible.”

***

“Beach volleyball? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, looking at the makeshift court that Lando and George have set up on the sand.

George grins, passing a volleyball between his hands. “Thought it’d be a fun way to unwind. And we’ve set the teams so it’s fair and ... interesting.”

Lando winks. “You and Y/N are paired up, of course. We thought you two could use some quality time together.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk that forms on your lips. “Let me guess, another one of your schemes to play matchmaker?”

Lando feigns shock. “Us? We would never.”

You laugh, pulling Max towards your side of the makeshift court. “Alright then, let’s do this. Prepare to be schooled, boys.”

What was meant to be a friendly match quickly turns intense. Max and you make a formidable team. The chemistry on the track seamlessly transitions to the sand, both of you equally competitive and always anticipating the other’s next moves.

“I didn’t know you two were this good!” George pants, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You wink at him, taking your position. “There’s a lot you don’t know about us.”

Neither you nor Max are willing to give an inch. Diving saves, powerful spikes, and clever feints — you both are in it to win it.

Lando, gasping and covered in sand, mutters to George, “This was supposed to be fun. Not an Olympic match.”

The final point arrives, with you and Max at an advantage. Lando, attempting a weak serve, sends the ball perfectly to you. With a powerful run-up, you spike the ball back directly towards him. It’s fast, precise, and ... it ends up hitting Lando square in his balls.

He collapses on the hot sand, groaning. The surrounding crowd winces empathetically but you and Max? You both burst into uncontrollable laughter, falling to your knees for an entirely different reason.

“Lando!” George rushes to his side, a mix of concern and amusement on his face.

Still on the ground, Lando whines, “There go my chances of ever having kids.”

Max, between fits of laughter, manages to say, “Sorry, mate. But that was ... epic.”

You nod in agreement, offering Lando a hand. “Next time, be prepared if you’re going to challenge us. We don’t do things by halves.”

Lando takes your hand to pull himself up. “Noted. No more volleyball with you two.”

***

“Whoa,” Max blinks, staring at his phone screen. “Did you just text me?”

You frown, looking up from your own phone. “No, why?”

He shows you the screen where a message pops up, supposedly from you:

I’ve been meaning to tell you

I think I have feelings for you

Your eyes widen in shock. “I definitely didn’t send that. Wait …” You check your phone, finding a similar message supposedly from Max:

Ever since we became teammates, I’ve felt something more

Do you feel the same?

Confused, you show Max the message. The two of you exchange bewildered glances. “What is happening?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

You shake your head. “Someone must think it’s funny to play a game with us.”

From a distance, behind the pit wall, Pierre Gasly is trying hard to suppress his laughter, watching the two of you. He nudges Charles who is next to him. “Do you think they bought it?”

Charles grins, “Knowing those two, they will probably figure it out. But it was worth the shot.”

Back at your spot, Max raises an eyebrow, “Did you by any chance get a new number recently?”

You nod. “Yeah, last week. Remember I gave it to you when we flew in? But only the team and our friends have it. Who would pull such a prank?”

Max smirks, “I have a few suspects in mind.”

You both decide to play along, typing away furiously. Max’s smirk grows wider with every passing second. “Let’s see how much our prankster likes the cards being reversed.”

Minutes later, Pierre’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from Max:

I’m so relieved you feel the same

How about dinner tonight?

Somewhere private?

Pierre’s eyes widen in surprise. He quickly checks your supposed response:

Of course I do!

Can’t believe we waited this long to admit our feelings

See you tonight? Let’s meet in the lobby for drinks and maybe dessert if you’re lucky ❤️

Pierre gulps, shooting a panicked look at Charles. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Charles snickers. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Later in the day, Pierre approaches with guilt basically stamped across his forehead. “Look, about the texts you got …”

You grin. “Figured it out, did you?”

Max chuckles, clapping Pierre on the back. “Nice try but despite what you may think, we’re not complete idiots. ”

Pierre sighs in relief. “Honestly, I thought I might have ignited something real for a moment there.”

You laugh, “I would hope any grand confession of love I receive happens through something other than sneaky texts.”

Pierre nods, smiling sheepishly. “Fair enough. But hey, if you ever do decide to go for a romantic dinner, let me know. It’s on me.”

Max grins, “Deal.”

***

The paddock is transformed. A massive screen is set up, loungers and bean bags are spread around, and fairy lights dangle from above as a large screen and projector take center stage.

“Rom-coms?” Max squints at the list Charles is holding, a collection of the cheesiest, most cliche romantic movies available.

Charles grins, unashamed. “Best way to set the mood, right?”

You laugh, “Still trying to make Lestappen happen?”

Charles blushes. “That was one time! Besides, I have moved on to more ... realistic goals.”

Lando pops up from behind a popcorn stand, “Like getting you two to finally see what’s right in front of you.”

You roll your eyes, playfully pelting a handful of popcorn at his head. “Enough with the matchmaking.”

The movie starts and it’s clear that every spot has been strategically taken, leaving just one chair available. Daniel points to your teammate with a deceivingly innocent expression, “Why don’t you sit on Max’s lap? Save space.”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Or you could give up your seat and come sit on my lap yourself.”

The surrounding drivers erupt in laughter as Daniel smiles widely, conceding the point. You both end up squeezing into the chair somehow.

As the movie plays, instead of getting swept up in the romance, you both start dissecting it.

“Why would she run in the rain after him? That’s just asking for pneumonia,” Max comments as the heroine dashes through a downpour.

You nod in agreement, “And those heels? Totally impractical. She should have changed into boots.”

Charles groans, burying his face in his hands. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

George pats his hair sympathetically, “You tried. That’s what matters.”

As the movie reaches its climax with a grand chase through the airport, you muse, “You know, airports have strict security. How did he even get to the gate without a boarding pass?”

Max nods, “And the plane? Totally off. They used the wrong model. That one can’t fly long-haul.”

Charles jumps up in exasperation. “That’s it! No more movies. You two are ridiculous.”

You grin, throwing an arm around Max. “Oh, come on. Admit it … you love us.”

Max chuckles, “Thanks for the movie night. Learned a lot about airport logistics and practical footwear.”

Charles sighs but a smile tugs at his lips. “We’re really not being paid enough for this.”

***

“Team-building exercise?” Max echoes. Both of you are seated in Christian’s office, a mysterious smile playing on the team principal’s lips.

Christian nods, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Dr. Amelia Foster, a top relationship expert.”

You exchange a hesitant glance with Max. “Relationship expert? But we’re not a couple.”

Dr. Foster chuckles, adjusting her glasses. “I’m not here for romantic purposes. I help partners of all kinds communicate better. Even teammates.”

Max leans forward. “So, what’s the plan?”

Christian clears his throat. “A simple session. See if there’s any room for improvement in your communication. I mean, you two are already a great team. Imagine if you were even better?”

Dr. Foster nods, opening her notebook. “Let’s start with a basic exercise. Max, describe how you feel when Y/N makes a risky move.”

Max thinks for a moment. “Concerned, I guess. I trust her skills but I also worry about her safety.”

You smile, touched. “And I feel proud when Max nails a difficult maneuver. He has an instinct during races that is unmatched.”

The session continues, delving into how you view each other’s strengths, weaknesses, and driving styles. As the conversation flows, Dr. Foster introduces various communication techniques.

“Now, let’s practice active listening,” she suggests. “Y/N, tell Max something, and Max, you’ll repeat it back in your own words.”

You nod. “Alright. Sometimes, when we’re racing side by side, I wish you would give me a tiny bit more space.”

Max considers then responds, “You’d like me to be a bit more cautious and ensure you have enough room during close races.”

Dr. Foster claps her hands. “Excellent! See? It’s about mutually understanding and validating each other’s perspectives.”

By the end of the session, both of you are genuinely engrossed in the exercises, seeing the potential benefits for your on-track dynamic.

As you both leave, Max turns to you, excitement in his eyes. “That technique where we visualize the other’s perspective? That could be a game-changer during races!”

You nod in agreement. “Absolutely! And the active listening can help during debriefs. Ensure we’re always on the same page.”

Christian, waiting outside, is initially hopeful upon seeing your animated discussion. “So, did the two of you ... connect?”

Max grins, “Oh, we did! I think our communication on the track is going to be better than ever.”

Christian sighs, realizing his matchmaking attempt has gone astray once again. “Not quite what I had in mind but I’ll take it for now.”

***

“I swear, rain at a race weekend is the universe’s way of telling us to slow down,” you quip, leaning back in your chair as the rain pours outside.

Max chuckles from his seat next to you. “Or it’s just weather. But I prefer your explanation.”

The sound of the rain has already lulled a group of mechanics to sleep. There’s an unexpected calm with the usual bustle of the race on hold.

You pull out your phone, browsing your music. “Let’s trade favorite songs. Bet I can surprise you with my taste.”

Max opens his own music app. “Challenge accepted.”

You play an indie track that has become your recent favorite. Max listens thoughtfully, “Never pegged you for an indie fan.”

You shrug, “Life’s full of surprises. Your turn.”

He selects a familiar classic rock track that makes you grin. “Bohemian Rhapsody? Really?”

He smirks, “Told you, surprises.”

“I’m mostly just surprised it’s not 33 Max Verstappen,” you tease.

As the afternoon stretches on, the music transitions to shared stories. You talk about your childhood, the early days of karting, the struggles, and triumphs. He shares his own tales, moments that shaped him, the highs and lows of his journey.

“Remember our first race as teammates?” He asks, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You laugh, “How could I forget? You almost ran me off the track.”

He chuckles, “Defensive driving. But you held your ground. Earned my respect that day.”

“And you earned mine,” you reminisce. “Not just as a driver but as a person.”

The atmosphere shifts, the mood turning contemplative. The stories become more personal, more intimate. You share your fears, dreams, and hopes. The raw honesty of the moment creates a bridge, a connection neither of you realized was missing.

Max looks at you, his gaze intense. “You know, despite all the teasing from the others, the setups, and the jokes, I never stopped to really see ... us.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’ve been so focused on the track, on our partnership as teammates, that I never paused to consider the possibility of ... something more.”

He reaches out to gently take your hand, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. “Maybe it’s time we did.”

You look into his eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back, and smile. “Maybe it is.”

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you both step onto the podium. The last race had been intense, with both of you claiming the top spots. Max, in first, and you, a close second. The excitement is contagious, the air electric.

Max turns to you, the gleam of victory in his eyes mirrored by another emotion that has been growing since that rainy day. Without another word, he pulls you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like a victory all on its own.

The crowd goes wild, cheering and whistling. But what draws your attention as you pull away, breathless, is the reaction of the grid below.

Lando jumps up, punching the air. “Yes!”

Charles grins, clapping his hands together. “Told you it’d happen on the podium!”

Daniel, laughing, shouts, “Pay up, everyone! I had this race in the betting pool.”

Confused, you turn to Max, who shrugs, just as out of the loop.

Later, as the celebrations continue, Pierre pulls you both aside, showing a clip on his phone. It’s a video from a few months ago, all the drivers and Christian huddled together, placing bets on a whiteboard labeled When Will Max and Y/N Finally Stop Being Blind?

You laugh, watching the clip. “Of course you all managed to turn our love life into a game.”

Max wraps an arm around you. “Well, they do say racing is all about strategy and timing.”

Lando approaches with a pout. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer? I was two races off.”

Daniel, counting his winnings, smirks. “Better luck next time.”

Christian shakes his head with a laugh but pulls both of you in for a hug. “Never thought I’d be so happy to lose 50 quid. Congrats, you two.”

Surrounded by the people who spent most of the season trying to make this happen, you realize that love, like racing, has its own unpredictable course. Because sometimes, the best races aren’t on the track. They’re the ones that lead to unexpected, beautiful destinations.

Honeymoon Suite

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Batman sends you and Dick undercover as newlyweds. At the end of the mission, neither of you want things to change.

Warnings: fluff, possible OOC, brief mentions of insecurity, reader wears a bikini once

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: Reader is a vigilante but there's no fight scenes or anything, it's more just gathering data for Bruce! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think or if you have any DC requests! :)

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

This isn't necessarily Titans!Dick, I just like this gif!

“Since when do you investigate recently paroled convicts?” you ask, looking out over Metropolis. “This seems like more of Clark’s thing. Literally, journalist Clark could do this far easier.”

Bruce sighs, and you smile. You can exhaust him from miles away.

“Because he started in Gotham, and I want to make sure he doesn’t come back,” Bruce answers.

“And I’m still in sunny Superman-city, why? Our boy bought a plane ticket three hours ago.”

“Until he goes to the airport, I want your eyes on him.”

“And then what? He disappears, free to con people who don’t have a Batman?”

“You do it on purpose,” Bruce accuses. “If you’re done asking questions, I’ve got news.”

“Also Clark’s thing,” you quip.

“Never mind. You can stay in Metropolis.”

“You love me, Bats. I’ll stop; tell me.”

“Against our better judgment, we all do.”

You smile, remembering the first night you put on a mask and took to the streets of Gotham. One of your best friends had been permanently altered by Scarecrow toxin, and you were done being scared in your own home. The same week, before you really grasped just how dangerous what you were doing could be, you ran into Robin. Batman wasn’t with him, but you soon met him, too. Robin was your age, reckless, and had a heart-stopping smile, so when he asked you to stay with him, you agreed. Batman reluctantly agreed, likely more interested in getting you off the streets than anything. After a few months, Dick trusted you enough to remove his domino mask, and Bruce sighed as he followed suit. Your relationship with Dick, both in and out of the Robin suit, made you part of two families: The Waynes and the Bats and Birds of Gotham. Every new addition to the family and the team pushed you and Dick closer, and you know what your feelings toward him are, but you have to remind yourself daily that losing him isn’t worth getting it off your chest.

“Still there?” Batman asks.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here,” you answer quickly, standing as you watch the sun go down.

“There’s going to be a slight detour on your way back.”

“Just tell me it’s somewhere warmer than Gotham,” you joke.

“Much. Nightwing – Dick – will meet you at the airport.”

You want to laugh at the strain in his voice as he says Dick’s name, but your attention catches on another word.

“Airport?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Welcome to paradise, babe,” Dick greets, pulling you into a warm hug as you walk through the airport doors.

“Thanks,” you murmur, closing your eyes and letting him envelop you completely.

He keeps an arm over your shoulders, leading you to an expensive rental car. After tossing your small bag in the back, he holds your hand over the console, looking into your eyes and smiling.

“I have a question,” he begins. You nod, and Dick’s smile grows. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen as you tell yourself that it’s for the mission.

“A thousand times yes,” you answer, watching Dick slide the ring onto your left ring finger.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your hand remains in Dick’s as he begins driving, your dream life with him coming to life around you.

“I checked in when I got here this morning. The honeymoon suite is nice,” Dick says distractedly.

“Honeymoon suite?” you repeat.

Dick hums, and you lower your gaze from his profile to the ring on your finger. It’s going to be a long few days.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your suitcase is in the closet,” Dick says, leading you into the small cottage with a hand on your back. He sees your confused look and laughs. “I packed a few things for you, I didn’t think you’d have beachwear with you in Metropolis.”

“Thank you.”

Dick lays back on the bed, propping his head up on his hands as he watches you open the closet.

“There’s a white bikini in there that I’m pretty proud of. I think it’s a better choice than you would have made.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the beachy pastels, sundresses, and swimsuits filling the bag. Dick chose things you have always wanted to wear but never felt good enough to buy for yourself. Losing your focus, you finger through the different fabrics, jumping slightly when Dick’s arms wrap around your waist.

“We have dinner reservations tonight, so pick a good one,” he whispers.

“Looks like they’re all good ones.”

“I have excellent taste,” Dick replies with an absent-minded tap to your wedding ring.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good evening,” Dick greets the couple sharing a table with you. He pulls your seat out, keeping his hand in yours as he sits beside you.

“My, you two are just the most handsome couple I’ve ever seen,” the woman exclaims, leaning toward you. “You picked a fine one, didn’t you, dear?”

You glance over at Dick and smile. “I sure did.”

Dick’s thumb runs over your knuckles, and you let yourself go in the act. Losing yourself, you adopt this character of being a wife to the man you’ve loved for years.

As you eat and talk to the other couples celebrating engagements, weddings, and anniversaries, you lean against Dick’s side, playing with his fingers. After one particularly romantic comment about your eyes, you raise Dick’s hand to your lips, kissing the knuckle below his ring. He turns toward you with a big smile, pecking your forehead before pulling you closer. You could get used to this, which is incompatible with an undercover mission.

✯✯✯✯✯

The proximity is killing you. Dick is so close that you could touch him, and you do, but you try to show some restraint. You set boundaries long ago, including one stating that you would never kiss one another purely for Batman’s never-ending mission. Your firm position on that boundary wavers more with each moment. This island is doing something to you, and you’re terrified that it will ruin your relationship with Dick.

Every time Dick smiles at you or takes your hand, running his finger over the fake ring on your hand, it’s like a glimpse straight out of your dream life. Right now, reclined on the beach in a bikini of Dick’s choosing, though, the dream falls apart.

“Dick,” you whisper, tapping your shoulder against his chest.

He pulls his hand away from your hair, a flower you didn’t see him pick braided into a small section of your hair.

“There’s our guy,” you mumble after he hums, pointing with your chin.

“He coming toward us?” Dick asks, running a sandy hand over your arm.

“Not right now. If he’s looking for the same kind of victim as in Gotham, we’re going to have to set a trap.”

“How?”

You turn toward him, frowning as you answer, “Get in a fight and let me storm off.”

Dick’s eyes drop away from yours before nodding. “Not yet,” he mumbles. “It has to look real.”

“Dinner?” you ask, brushing his hair back.

His eyes flutter closed as he nods, aware that the social setting will make enough of a scene. That doesn’t mean Dick wants to do it, though, nor is he sure about using you as bait.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do I look okay? This fits weird,” you complain, tugging the white sundress down on the sides.

Dick appears behind you, holding your wrists still as he meets your eyes in the mirror. He pulls your back to his chest, looping his arms over your waist.

“You look beautiful – you are beautiful,” Dick whispers. “So beautiful that I don’t know if I can yell at you.”

“We can change the plan. Pretend like we’ve been arguing all afternoon in private, and I can just choose a moment to storm off,” you offer.

“I don’t want to fight with you at all,” Dick amends.

“Hey.” You turn in his arms, looping yours over his shoulders. “This isn’t real, okay? I will never treat you like this.”

Dick nods, dropping his head to press his forehead against yours.

“Promise?”

You nod, dragging a finger along Dick’s jaw. “I promise.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah,” you mumble, fiddling with the napkin in your lap. “I got it earlier.”

Dick made a passing comment about working with others, glancing toward you at the end, and you took the opportunity to start a fight. The target, Bruce’s con man, is several tables away, but his eyes are on you. Dick’s eyes drop, and you desperately want to cup his chin and apologize.

“Working with women can be hard though,” someone says, continuing the conversation.

“It certainly can,” Dick agrees.

You stand up, silently tossing your napkin onto the table before you walk out. Navigating through the crowded tables, you take a deep breath when you exit and hear footsteps behind you.

“’Scuse me?” he asks.

You slow before you stop, turning toward him and wiping an imaginary tear.

“I’m sorry, I overheard and just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m a marriage counselor and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you here upset.”

“I’m fine, or I will be,” you answer, slightly impressed with how easily he slipped into the lie. “It’s just frustrating to be married, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so different.”

“Marriage counseling is a great option even for newly-weds. I actually have a pay by the appointment service here on the island, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, really? That- actually, yeah, that sounds amazing. What do I need to do?”

“$1,000 cash, up front, and then you can come by anytime.”

“Soliciting for a false business is illegal,” a resort security guard says as he approaches. “I’m going to need to take you to the office for questioning.”

“Really, me? Because her husband looks a lot like the Wayne kid from Gotham, not Gray Todd or whatever he said his name was,” the conman argues. “What about impersonation?”

Dick walks outside just as the security guard looks toward you.

“What’s going on out here?” Dick asks, laying his hand against the small of your back. “Are you okay?” he adds quietly.

You nod and press back against him gently. “This guy was trying to steal our money, apparently.”

“Someone called in a tip that he’s been posing as a marriage counselor,” the security guard fills in. “Though, do you folks have ID?”

Dick removes his fake ID from his wallet, and you’re surprised when he hands one over for you too.

“Your last names aren’t the same, are these up to date?”

“I haven’t gotten my updated license yet,” you answer. “We haven’t been married long.”

“Ask them questions separately and they won’t be able to answer. They’re the con artists, not me!” the conman cries.

“Maybe I should take you two in for questioning too.”

“On what grounds?” Dick asks with an incredulous chuckle. “What would I need to do to convince you we’re married? This is ridiculous!”

You glance over, and a crowd is gathering at the door, so you tap Dick’s side to alert him. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“I’d like to speak to your manager in the morning, but for now, are we free to go?”

The security guard also sees the crowd and hesitates before nodding. Dick leads you away and back toward the cottage but pulls you to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking over his face.

“People are still watching us and we need to keep this up or they won’t believe us,” Dick whispers.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Does it matter?”

“If they think we’re not really married, they can’t prove anything about our guy. Then we just look like we lied to get a nicer cottage.”

You nod and ask, “So what do we do to prove it?”

Your arms are around Dick, you’re as close as physically possible, so you’re not sure what else you can do to look like you’re in love. Especially considering you are in love with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before raising his hand to the back of your neck and kissing you.

He picks you up, a strong arm under your hips as he carries you up the stairs. You grip his shirt at the collar, returning the kiss but refusing to deepen it. As Dick unlocks the door, you drop your head to his shoulder and glance at the dissipating crowd, only a few people left who don’t mind imposing on a private moment.

Once you’re inside and Dick sets you down, he steps back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it was the one rule, but I didn’t know what else to do,” he rambles, carding his fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”

You hold a hand up to stop his pacing and shrug. “We had to. It’s fine.”

Dick nods, another whispered apology rolling off his tongue before he offers to let you use the bathroom first. When he steps back, that proximity you thought would break you is taken away, and you realize that is was holding you together all along.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk out of the bathroom, Dick is staring out the window. The dark beach holds his attention until he stands wordlessly. Then, when Dick returns from the shower, he doesn’t speak to you. Opening your mouth, you want to ask him something, say anything, but he sits at the far side of the king-sized bed and makes himself comfortable with his back to you.

The last few nights, you started on opposite sides of the bed but woke up with Dick’s arm over your waist and both of you in the middle. Those moments are being ripped away from you, though, and you’re not sure why. If it’s the kiss, you told him it was fine. Dick is usually the one ready and willing to talk about this kind of stuff, but he is shutting you out.

Hating the distance and craving his closeness, you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

The answer is barely audible, a sigh of, “Of course not.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief, moving your hand to the middle of the bed like an olive branch. “Then what happened? I’m really not mad about the kiss, Dick.”

Dick rolls over, his eyes bright in the minimal light of the cottage as he takes your hand (again). “I don’t want this to end,” he confesses.

After contemplating what this could mean, you whisper, “It doesn’t have to.”

Dick sits up, pulling you in, slow and methodical as he kisses you this time. As he pulls you into his lap, you enjoy knowing that there’s no rush or fear or lies behind this, just you, Dick, and the love between you.

“Maybe we should get married,” he mumbles against your lips. “Bruce will pay for a few more days.”

You pull back with a breathless laugh. “And listen to your brothers after they find out you eloped? No thanks.”

“So, you won’t marry me?” Dick asks, looking up at you perched on his legs.

“I’ll marry you as many times as you want, Dick Grayson.”

“Different honeymoon suite each time?” Dick jokes.

You duck your head against his chest as he laughs, gladly letting him hold you close for one more quiet, slow night before you return to Gotham.

“We need to pack, our flight is at 10,” you remind him.

“Don’t forget the white one,” he says against your cheek, leaving kisses along your face.

You are returning to Gotham with something far better than a new bikini or souvenir: Dick Grayson’s love running through your veins and your heart safely in his hold.

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

Bonus:

"It worked, Alfred."

"Excellent news, Master Bruce. Perhaps you could be the next to go on a trip and come back with a woman in your life."

😭

Chapter 30 - Vettel Reincarnate

final gp y'all - I might cry..

Shoutout to that one reader who was asking about secret santa - this one is for you darling!

Not going to do a giant speech - you all will know when the last chapter comes out because I'm going to do a farewell little post before the chapter goes live ☺️

Please enjoy!

A red Santa hat sat on your head as you stood in front of some cameras. Your grin was wide as your hands held three neatly wrapped presents. Secret Santa had finally graced the paddock and you could tell that the air felt lighter. Or maybe it was a bit hot in the oversized Santa suit that you were in. 

Max had already won the championship this year, so there wasn’t any bad air between two drivers. You and Charles were very close, but it wasn’t a fierce rivalry as the press seemed to make it. One stink eye to him and apparently you hated the Monegasque with every fiber of your being. And the pictures of the two of you at family dinner? The two of you were secretly conspiring against the other the entire time. 

Jemma, as you learned the lady’s name, was walking over. 

“Are you ready to start?” she asked, looking over the cameras one more time. 

You flashed her another smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

The cameraman gave you the signal, letting you know that it was rolling. You took a deep breath before you started. 

“Hi everyone, and welcome to the 2024 Grid Secret Santa.” 

You paused as you looked down at the presents. 

“I guess I’ll start then?” 

The crew chuckled around you as you set two down on the little table. You were saving the biggest one for last. 

The first present was a medium box. You carefully unwrapped it, making sure not to tear the paper. You giggled as you went slowly. 

“Max hated it when I would not just rip and tear last year at Christmas. I wanted to save the wrapping paper.” 

Laughter erupted from the crew around you, making your smile grow wider. You were a sucker for people laughing at you trying to be funny. 

You finally got the last of the paper off. 

“Props to whoever wrapped these. It’s very well done.” 

You opened the box and immediately started laughing. The small crowd was questioning what was in the box. You pulled the item out, which earned more laughs. 

In your hand was yet another pair of Lightning McQueen with Charles’s signature on them. You gave the camera a look. 

“This is like the third pair that I have currently. Arthur got me a pair last year with Charles’s signature on them as well.” 

Jemma questioned, “Do you have any guesses?” 

You thought for a moment. 

“It cannot be Lando, he does not wrap gifts this well.” 

“I heard that!” 

Your head whipped around to see the McLaren driver walking by with Jon. You raised your hand in a wave. 

“It’s true though!” 

You turned your attention back to the camera. The smaller box was in your hand. You quickly opened it up and let out a small gasp. Your fingers gently picked up a charm bracelet and you held it up for the camera. 

“What’s on it?” 

You smiled as you looked at all the charms. 

“So there’s an Italian flag, some maracas, and some dice – I’m thinking that these are for my wins – Monza, Mexico, and Las Vegas. Then there’s a little Formula 1 car, oh, is that a tiny can of Red Bull?” 

You held the bracelet to your face. 

“It is! That’s so cute. Ok, so then there’s an 8 and then a 9, probably for my number. There’s a camera, a football, a longhorn. Oh, ok, I definitely know who this is from.” 

You positioned the little charm toward the camera. 

“It’s a little chili.” 

Your eyes welled up at the thoughtful gift. 

“You know who your secret Santa is then?” 

“I’ll wait to say until I open the last present. You said there’s a card in there right?” 

“Correct.”

You quickly picked up the last big box. This time, the box was already decorated so you didn’t need to unwrap it carefully. You threw your head back with laughter once you saw what was in the box. 

Your hands grabbed it and held it to the camera. A giant blanket was on display. On said blanket was a giant Max Verstappen in all his glory. You put it around your shoulders. 

“This is just beautiful.” 

You spun around, showing the blanket off. A familiar laugh erupted from behind the camera. 

“Did you put him up to this?” 

Max looked as though he got caught before he smirked. 

“I-I can neither confirm nor deny,” he managed to get out between the laughs. 

You pulled the blanket around you, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric. By now, a lot of the guys were watching. 

Jemma reigned everyone back in. 

“Ok, do you want to say who you think it is?” 

You smirked. 

“It’s Carlos.” 

The Spaniard flashed you a giant grin. You walked up to the Ferrari driver and gave him a hug. 

“Did Charles tell you that I already had a pair of the Crocs?” 

You felt his head shake and you huffed. 

“Charles!”

“That is my cue to leave. I’ll see you all on track.” 

A flash of red quickly passed by your face. 

“Yeah, you better run!” 

Everyone laughed as you gathered your things. However, you wanted to stay for the next person, since it was the person whose name you drew. 

You watched as Lando stared with wide eyes at the giant crate that was put down before him. And then you silently laughed as the man also put a smaller box on top. 

Carlos leaned down and whispered, “You don’t have anything to do with this chica?” 

You whispered back, “I have no clue what you are talking about.” 

Your shoulders started to shake as you watched the Briton open the crate. He huffed as he looked down. 

“What is it Lando?” Jemma asked. 

The McLaren driver pulled out one singular fruit. 

“It’s a crate full of papayas. This was definitely not in the budget. How the hell does someone just get a full crate of papayas?” 

“What’s in the smaller box?” 

Lando pulled out a singular piece of paper. 

He read it, “One free drive in any one of my cars and two admissions into any country clubs I want for a full week.” 

You watched as a look of realization crossed his face. A warm smile grew as he looked right at you. 

“This is Y/n. I know it.” 

“Correct.”

“Why in the hell did you get me a crate of papayas?” 

You shrugged behind the camera. 

“Because you always complain that I call the McLaren color orange.” 

Lando rolled his eyes but waved the makeshift coupon. 

“I will be driving your Apollo though.”  

You pretended to grimace. However, it turned into a smile. You knew that he was going to pick that car, so you didn’t even try to stop him by writing ‘any car except the apollo.’ He would have whined and whined until you let him do it anyway. You watched as they rolled the crate away, signaling that they were done filming in this area. 

“Did you read the card chica?” Carlos asked as he walked you back to your garage. 

You pulled the piece of paper from your pocket. 

It read: 

Dear Chica, 

When I heard that Checo was retiring, I was kind of hoping that I might have been able to get the Red Bull seat back. I knew that Ferrari would change things for 2025, and I knew that you were on their radar. (Also, Charles can’t keep a secret.) 

You giggled but kept reading. 

However, seeing you grow on the track this year made me realize how special you truly are. No one is lying when they say that you will be World Champion one day. I hope that I’m still on the grid to see it. 

No one knows, but I will be returning to the grid in 2025 for Audi. (Please keep it a secret unlike Charles – I didn’t tell him because then he would tell Pierre and Max, who would then tell the entire grid.) 

If you ever need to come eat spicy food, I’ll have the guest house ready for you in Spain. We’ll go to the beach and tan while Max and Charles burn like lobsters. Maybe this time I’ll be willing to play mermaids with you. 

You’re going to go far Chica. Keep driving fast and with your heart. It only goes up from here. 

Love, 

Carlos 

Your eyes were watering by the time that you finished reading. You turned and put your head on Carlos’s chest as his arms wrapped around you. Sniffled escaped as you squeezed into the hug. 

“You know, the press is going to think that I’m not conspiring with you on how to take Charles out of the race.” 

You felt Carlos shake as he laughed. You bid your goodbyes as you headed back to your garage. You quickly placed your gifts in your driver’s room before changing from the Santa suit into your fireproofs and race suit. Since you had only let a rookie drive your car once, you and Max were able to just hang out during FP1. 

“Ok, so who did you get and what did you give? And what did you get from who?” 

Max sighed, a smile on his face. 

“So, I picked Charles.” 

“Oh no.” 

Max’s smile turned into a smirk. 

“So I got him one of those Inchident shirts from Etsy or wherever. And then I signed the shirt and said it was for my biggest fan.”  

The Dutchman smiled as he heard your giggles. 

“And then I just got him a gift card to some restaurant back home. But he said he’s going to wear the shirt next time we play paddle. He said something about creating an Inchident 2.0.” 

“And who got you?” 

“Logan. The kid did well.” 

“Yeah?” 

Max jerked his head behind him. “He got me three cheesecakes from The Cheesecake Factory and then a football. He also got me a book of dad jokes, saying that since I call you kid, I need to up my dad-joke game.” 

Your eyes landed on the three boxes, the book, and the brown, egg-shaped ball. 

“Can I have some cheesecake after the race.” 

“No.” 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing max didn't get the memo? at least y/n can bring him everywhere now!

liked by y/n.89, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 4,204,981 others

y/n.nation the video was so cuteeeeee - I was so happy when Carlos picked her! And Max totally understood the assignment with Charles's gift

formulala_delulu the gifts this year was top tier! glad Charles didn't gift another calendar

maxverstappen1 I guess you're stuck with me kid

landonorris will you finally share this blanket?

y/n.89 maybe - depends on how I'm feeling.

charles_lecerlc when you get to an inchident competition but your opponent is a 27 year old Dutchman who can't let go of the past 👊😔

maxverstappen1 I mean...I'll take the shirt back then

charles_leclerc TOO BAD I'M ALREADY WEARING IT - GET YOUR OWN

y/n.89 chill shawty, no one wants the shirt anyway

box_box_express stoooppp I'm going to miss this grid!

y/n&co y/n is going to win - mark my words!

On Sunday, you were practically vibrating. Only a few points separated you and Charles. You needed to score higher than a P3 and needed fastest lap. 

However, Charles only needed a P3 and fastest lap to come out in second place. Qualifying was not in your favor as you were starting P9. Max and Charles vacated the first row. Standing by your car, they seemed so far away. 

Yet, as you sat in the seat, going over a few more details, you knew you could do it. 

“Final radio check kid for 2024.” 

“Mitch, I think it’s time.” 

“Time for what?” 

“An overtake masterclass.” 

“Right. Any song requests for the end?” 

You sighed as you looked around you. You knew that people were wanting a song from you, as you did after ever season closer. But this time, you really didn’t have a song that fit well. 

“Not this time Mitch.” 

“Ok. Lights out in 15 seconds.” 

You turned the radio off for the remainder of the time. You basked in the silence, finally welcoming it to think. 

The formation lap went well and no one ran into the barriers, letting everyone be able to line up to go. 

You watched as the lights started to count down. 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two. 

One.  

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the final time in 2024!” 

Your foot hit the throttle and off you went. Like always, your car felt alive. 

Woman and machine as one. 

“Now, Y/n L/n has to make her way back up to P3 while also trying to go for the fastest lap to be able to win the second place of the driver’s championship. We talked to her earlier and she said that she would be trying her hardest to also possibly get one more win for this season to complete her glorious rookie campaign.” 

“Yes, David, she has had the best rookie season since Lewis Hamilton. Even if she doesn’t win this race, she has blown his point record out of the water. She would tie him with wins during a rookie year, but she wouldn’t beat his place holder of second in the driver’s championship.” 

“And there she goes around the outside, getting by Oscar Piastri.” 

“Another overtake for L/n as she gets out ahead of Carlos Sainz in turn 3.” 

“It’s a double pass for the rookie on the straight. She is now in P5 as she gets around both Mercedes going into turn 1.” 

“I don’t know what classes she is taking, but this is a advanced one as she now overtakes Lando Norris.” 

“It’s P3 for L/n in 23 laps. Incredible! Truly an Overtake Master Class.”  

Your voice shook as you came on the radio. 

“I need to box. Something is wrong with the left tyre.” 

You had only been able to scrap back up to P3 when something felt off. 

Mitch responded quickly. “If you pit, this is the only one you get. Can you get to the end?” 

You knew that the one stop strategy might not work the best with the car for this circuit. You sighed, mulling over your options. 

If you did mediums, the tyre degradation might be too severe to even be on the podium. But, the hards would take forever to warm up. 

“Box, box.” 

“Looks like L/n is boxing early. Is Red Bull undercutting their team?” 

“What the hell is wrong?” Max voiced over his radio. Where they undercutting him? 

GP responded. “Something wrong with her front tyre. The nuts weren’t in enough and she would have had a major accident if we hadn’t boxed her. She will come out in P2, so you will hold the position.” 

The Dutchman sighed in relief. You’d be safer if they did undercut him. 

“Ok.” 

“Copy Max. Let’s just try to bring it home.” 

With the early pit stop and a fresh set of hard tyres, you were back out in P2, just able to get by Charles. 

The rest of the race, you sat back and fought as hard as you could. Only 30 more laps to go. When your tyres finally heated up, you were slowly gaining on Max. Before he or you knew it, you were now fighting for first place. 

“Ok, Max, it’s a free for all. Just don’t take each other out please.” 

“Copy GP.”

“Y/n, we’re letting you and Max fight it out. He is not pitting again. Keep it safe and bring it home.” 

“Who has fastest lap currently?”

“Leclerc.”

“Shit. Ok. What should I go for Mitch?” 

“What matters most to you?” 

An answer from your radio never came. 

“L/n and Verstappen have been given the green flag to just race. We are seeing two of the best of this generation fight it out at the last circuit.” 

“And that is a lock up from Verstappen! Does he get the lead back? Yes he does. He maintains the lead in front of his teammate.” 

“L/n is going to try to go around the outside, and she gets the lead going into turn 4, but loses it coming out of it.” 

“The rookie and the World Champion, what a duo these two have been.” 

“Fastest lap?” 

“You currently have it.” 

“Right on.” 

“And we are down to the final lap of the race. Will L/n be able to get a lead on her teammate and be able to keep it? That is what it is down to. We have seen these two brilliant drivers dance with each other, but L/n has not been able to keep a lead going out of a turn.” 

“You know who she reminds me of David? Sebastian Vettel. It’s the hunger and the passion for the sport.” 

“I absolutely agree with you. Vettel was a four time world champion. If she is anything like him, she will be world champion before we know it. Her driving style is so close to his, it’s like see him back in his Red Bull glory days. Truly unbelievable.”  

“MAX VERSTAPPEN GOES WIDE AND THROUGH GOES L/N TAKING THE LEAD AND SHE IS RUNNING WITH IT!” 

“L/N WINS HER FOURTH RACE OF THE SEASON IN ABU DHABI. Ending a perfect rookie year on a high!” 

You sighed as you crossed the line in P1. 

“Fastest lap Mitch?” 

Please, oh please. 

“Sorry kid. Leclerc got you in the last sector.” 

A frown wanted to grow on your face, yet you didn’t let it. You were a three time race winner and you wouldn’t let that be ruined. Your head turned as you saw Max pull up near you. You gave him a wave that was reciprocated. 

You watched as his finger went in a little circle and you nodded in agreement. A red car was now in your mirrors. You stuck your hand out the halo to give Charles the signal that the Dutchman gave you to. You saw as he stuck a thumbs up as well. 

Once the cars were in position, you took the lead for the burnouts. Laughter erupted from your throat as you spun your car. Above, fireworks went off in the sky. As your burn out ended, you pulled into the P1 spot. 

You quickly got out of the car and fell on your knees. Your helmet lowered to the ground as you put your hands on the tyres in a mock bow. You leaned back and just sat for a moment. Your visor was still down as you took it all in. You hit the pavement before getting back on your feet. 

Yet, it didn’t take long for Max to barrel into you. You almost fell over, but he kept you up. You were starting to jump up and down in excitement. 

“You did so well Geitje! So fucking proud of you. That was such good racing!” 

“I thought you had me! Like we were all vroom, and then you locked up, but kept it, and then I was all like ‘Waahhhhh’, and I saw you went wide and I was like, I’m going to get him,” you kept rambling to him as the two of you got weighed and then went to get interviewed. You stopped Charles on his way, though, when he passed to go to the cool down room.

“Charlie! I thought I had you!” 

A laugh escaped the Monegasque as he brought you in for a hug. You just leaned into him and sighed in content. You felt Charles put his head down against yours. His hands were tightly wound around your shoulders while yours were around his waist. 

“You did good Gosse, you did good. I am so proud of you.” 

You pouted against him. “But I couldn’t get second.” 

Charles removed you and put you at arm’s length. 

“Y/n, you cannot even begin to fathom what you’ve done this season. As a rookie, you have beaten a four-time world champion. You’ve beaten Ferrari. You’ve beaten everyone’s expectations. You’ve done it all, and that should be something to be proud of. And if you’re worried about a placing, you just confirmed that Red Bull won the constructors championship.” 

Your eyes lit up by that, and you brought Charles back into a quick hug before going to the interview. A smile grew on your face as you saw Arthur standing with a very sweet smile of his own. The younger Monegasque loved to see you getting along with his brother. It was only solidifying that he made the right choice with you. 

He watched you walk up to him as you took a microphone. 

“Y/n, that was some racing! Starting from all the way from P9 and making your way up to a race win. How are you feeling?” 

You exhaled before answering. 

“Well, you know, it was exhilarating. I would have been happy with P3, but then my left tyre wasn’t doing too well, so I had to box early. I think that’s what was able to position me just right to get a placement on Max.” 

Arthur smiled. “So, in terms of a rookie year, you have had one of the best campaigns since Lewis Hamilton. How do you feel to know that you have broken so many records?” 

“Well Arthur, it feels great. I just really wanted to prove that I could do this and show people that Red Bull made the right choice with me.” 

“One last thing. I was hearing Crofty on the livestream and he was making some connections between you and Sebastian Vettel. I’ve also seen many videos calling you a Vettel Reincarnate. Thoughts on that?” 

Your eyebrows pinched. 

“Well, Seb isn’t dead, so I don’t know how I could be his reincarnation.” 

The two of you laughed at that. 

“But I am honored to be compared to one of the greats. I know that people always compare drivers, but I really am proud to know Sebastian personally and to be great at driving to the point that people want to say that I remind them of him.” 

The interview was wrapped up after that. Since you took a little more time, you weren’t able to get to the cool down room. Thankfully, Max had a water bottle or two for you when you got to the podium. 

You guzzled one down as you watched Charles and Max walk out. You were able to follow them, but someone tapped you on the back. It was a man holding your nation’s flag. 

“I know that this celebration is normally reserved for World Champions, but we thought you’d like this.” 

You took the flag without hesitation and wrapped it around your shoulders. You stood proud with it as your anthem rang out. 

The two male drivers watched as you hummed along to the anthem, swaying back and forth. The flag almost fell as you raised the trophy, yet, you held the trophy with one hand and then flag in your other. 

As Charles and Max were spraying you with champagne, your mind began to wander. You’d be on this top step at some point. But that time, it would be as world champion. 

The champagne seemed to freeze in the air as you took everything in. You finally felt as though you could breathe easy. You had made it. You had a contract renewal coming way before your contract would even expire. You had your family here with you. 

Everything was perfect. 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing rookie and champ - logging out one last time 💙

liked by arthur_leclerc, y/n.89, maxverstappen1, formula_fan, and 5,210,756 others

y/n.nation SO THAT'S IT???? WHY AM I CRYING 😭

box_box_express thankful to have been here since the beginning. y/n deserves everything that she has done and more

y/n.89 FANS ARE CRYING - I'M CRYING - WHY IS THIS ENDING???

maxverstappen1 there's next season? 🤨

y/n.89 OH YEAHHHHHHHH

maxverstappen1 this kid I swear

formula1_4ever this season was phenomenal - the amount of racing that we got to see and multiple drivers winning, I'd go back to rewatch it all again

wholesomef1 tell me why this season is going to go down in history

rookie&co while I'm sad for winter break - I'm gearing up for next year!

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 wow, there were just so many moments this season that had me in a loop, so - here are some pictures from my favorites album 1. the first time I truly witnesses Lestappen in all it's glory 2. me and thur when he visited my apartment in the UK 3. for the Charlie girlies - looking ethereal in Vegas 4. my first podium in Abu Dhabi!! 5. for the Oscar girlies - (he was looking at lando) 6. Lewis and my son 7. Logan when he had to come find me after getting lost in the trains 8. my parents trying raising canes for the first time 9. this glorious picture of me from VEGAS 10. my boyfriend looking SCRUMDILLYICIOUS (hard launch who?) 11. George in Mexico after I gave him a sombrero 12. Lando wanting to punch me after I gave him a crate of papayas

thank you 2024 season - you will be one I never forget!!

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.nation, formula1fan, rookie&co, and 2,049,148 others

y/n.nation this was so sweet 🥺

landonorris did me dirty bug

y/n.89 it's what you get

lewishamilton your son? 🤨

y/n.89 yes, my son

maxverstappen1 when did you take the first picture??

y/n.89 vegas 2023 - you look so in love maximillian

charles_leclerc awwww you do 🥰

maxverstappen1 gag.

box_box_express stop stop stop all of these are so cute

fanof_1681 Charles/Oscar girlies we rise

alex_albon why that picture?? I know you had like 5 others

y/n.89 cause lily looked the best in that one - duh

rookie&co I guess this means I have to change my username :(

formulala_delulu oh to just go back in time and rewatch the entire season again for the first time

It took a while to get back to your drivers room. You took just a minute to just feel. Feel the trophy, feel the champagne in your suit, feel the emotions. You didn't bother to sit on the little bed, so you were on the floor leaning against the couch.

You let your mind wander.

In reality, you were thankful for your past. Arthur, Vito, Stella back at Dams, maybe even your parents. It’s because they all pushed you to be the best. 

But you’d continue to show them how truly great you were. You’d put your name in the hall of fame if it was the last thing you did. 

As you looked at the pictures in your room, your eyes landed on one., You were bunched in with Max, Charles, and Mitch at Vegas. Just looking at it gave you shivers as you thought of what was to come. However, right now, you could only wait for the future. A future full of championships and families. Deep down, you second guessed yourself, wondering if it ever would come true.

But it’d come true. You knew it would. 

World Champion. 

Because, for all it is, it's just wishful thinking. 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

do u think when peter and trouble “broke up” he’d get pretty sensitive abt everything? like i imagine him hearing a guy from the football team or something scored a date with trouble and he just feels… defeated or how she still talks to ethan and go to lunch or a get coffee together which just drives him fucking nuts because ‘you’re supposed to be with me. right here. right now. this second.’ ://

yeah.

there's a diner off 113th, it's tiny and the food isn't that great. peter went with ethan one day on a whim and for being so close to campus the only people occupying the space were over sixty.

peter was hungover and while it wasn't special it made him feel better.

then, he brings you. and he did give a fair warning, but he thought you'd love it anyway. you ate the toast off his plate, you shared your hashbrowns and for the first time peter didn't mind sharing food.

each time you'd sit across from him in that diner, peter would watch you sip on coffee, then some of his orange juice. you'd never fail at sharing something that made him laugh.

one time you were there for four hours and neither of you noticed.

after the dozenth trip, you asked him if he thought everything was mediocre or if there was one shining dish. peter said no, everything is the same flavor of bland. you told him you should try the entire menu.

a new tradition. each visit he'd over a new meal and you'd do the same, then split them down the middle and swap halfway through.

it was sacred for him, peter could just have a quiet morning with you, no one was around, the looming questions that happen in his bedroom don't exist at that wooden table.

when it was just you and him, he felt unstoppable.

there were fourteen meals and seven visits away from finishing the menu when you stopped coming. it was something he avoided after you walked away from him, he couldn't even look down that side of the street for weeks.

until one morning after another night of drinking way too much, ethan tells him the only cure was retirement home food from that one diner. peter's a little too clouded and agrees, it's just a diner and it's just shitty food.

but it's not. the second his hand wraps around the doorhandle a wash of memory coats him, your arm is supposed to wrap around his, you're supposed you bump your hip into his, you're supposed to pull him to your table.

your table, it's funny he thinks of it that way. he doesn't understand how he's not supposed to when all he can think of is the secret kisses and delicate touches you shared. the moments he's told you more than he ever has to anyone else.

ethan's trying to talk to him but peter can't listen, the menu feels like fire under his fingers. ethan's sitting in your seat and he feels a pressure in his chest build, the table's wobbly because your elbows not there to level it.

the words are gibberish, all he can focus on is number seventeen, you told him you'd get it next time.

ethan orders coffee and seventeen. peter loses it, he can't be in here. that was supposed to be your seat and that was supposed to be your coffee and that was supposed to be your meal.

and you were supposed to be here with him. but you're not.

'i have to go.' the table shakes when he stands, his hands do the same in his pockets. it's so fucking cold outside, you'd dig your hands under his shirt for warmth and peter never understood how it worked for you, because he felt like he was getting burned by your touch instead.

he can never go back because you left him. peter tells himself it's fine because the diner is shit anyways.

it just wasn't as bad with you.