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youkissedareaderinthedark · 5 months

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Grill the Kid

Synopsis: Y/n is the favorite for Grill the Grid. A few of the 2023 episodes are a reminder why.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 Grid

A/N: a couple things; team doesn’t really matter here, I’m just using the drivers shown in the videos. i’m also using a challenge from previous years to make it more interesting

Grill the Grid Episode 1: Driver Heights

You walk in to see a tall easel. “Oh, what’s this for?” You ask Rosanna, the host of the games.

“We’ve got a heigh chart and magnets with all the driver’s names on them. And you’ve got to place them in height order in two minutes”

You nod. “I can do that”

“You ready? 3, 2, 1, go”

“Okay, how am I gonna do this?” You say, asking no one in specific.

“Let’s just do this in order I see them- actually, wait” You search for two names specifically, then slap one at the very top, the other at the bottom.

“We’re gonna put Yuki right below my name, he’s not as tall as me, but he’s close”

“Then...um...who’s the next tallest? Estie or Alex?” You look to Rosanna as if she can tell you.

“We’ll do Estie, Alex, then, Stroll, I guess? Lance is pretty tall, he can go right there” You flip through the magnets in your hands, eyebrows furrowed.

“Should we do shortest to tallest then? That might be easier”

“Lando is, of course, a midget and belongs all the way down there” You crouch, placing your friend’s name at the bottom with a grin.

“Who else is short? Fernando and Checo, they’re pretty short. I think Fernando is shorter than Checo, though”

“Umm, Lewis isn’t that tall, oh! Neither is Valtteri, sorry Valtteri. KMag, he’s also not super tall”

“I think from then on, everyone else is kinda similar in height- actually no, Pierre thinks that he’s tall, he’s not”

“Max- is Max tall? He might be, he’s just not tall in my mind. We’ll put him in the middle. Charles, we’ll put him right next to Max” A cheeky smile suddenly comes on to your face.

“Zhou is kinda tall, maybe, but we’ll put him below Charles and Max”

“Oscar? See, again he’s not tall in my mind, but he might actually be tall, so I don’t know. I’ll put him above Zhou but below Charles and Max, that might work”

“Carlos, uh, he can be tall, we’ll put him above right below Charles and Max”

“Oh, Hulk! He’s tall, Nico’s tall, we’ll put him below Alex and in front of Lance”

“Last person is Logan, he’s tall, I think, not that tall though, maybe below Lance” You place the last name on the chart.

“Okay, I’m done, I did great, but you can tell me what you think is wrong, anyways” you say jokingly, smiling at Rosanna.

“So, Y/n, I’m sorry to tell you but you are not the tallest on the grid” Rosanna says in front of you, fake sympathy on her face.

“What do you mean? Of course I am, I tower above everyone, clearly” You gesture to yourself.

“Okay then, well, Yuki is not the second tallest” The woman says as you shake your head.

“Rosie, I don’t know what you see, but Yuki is almost as tall as me” You look up to see her sighing.

“Are you really not going to change it?”

“There’s nothing to change” You smile, shrugging. “Alright then. Esteban is the-“ She pauses, then plays along with your game. “The third tallest” You smile successfully.

“Then in your books, I guess, Alex is the fourth tallest, and George- what did George do to you that made you put him on the bottom?”

“He’s George, that’s enough sometimes” You see Rosanna face palm, then ask again, “You’re not going to change his?”

“Nope” You shake your head. “Okay- moving on, you got Nico and Lance right. Max is actually taller than Logan, then goes Charles- are you not going to change them either?” She exclaims, exhasperated already.

“No” you say simply. She sighs. “So Charles, you got Oscar and Carlos wrong, Oscar is taller than Carlos”

“Really? He’s taller than Carlos? Okay, I’ll move them”

“Pierre goes right below Carlos, then Kevin-” You cut her off. “Actually? Wow, I was wrong”

“Yes, somehow” Rosanna rolls her eyes playfully.“Then comes Zhou, he’s shorter than KMag, then Lewis, he’s taller than Sergio. Checo is taller than Valtteri, then Fernando, and then Lando”

She finishes, refraining from voicing her opinion about yours and Yuki’s heights. “So I got them all right!” You exclaim, grinning. “Sure Y/n, you got them all right”

Grill the Grid Episode 2: Geography

“Alright, here we go” You walk into the studio, greeting Rosanna and everyone else behind the cameras as you go. “What’re we doing today?” You ask, standing on the mark on the floor.

Rosanna smirks, and you know this isn’t going to go well. “Geography”

Your face falls.

“In fifteen seconds”

Your jaw drops.

“Oh my god, I hate this game”

She hands you the clipboard. “You ready?”

“No” You deadpan.

“Okay, 3, 2, 1, go” She ignores you and starts the timer.

And then you’re dotting the paper frantically, your eyes trying to keep up with your hands. “Ten seconds”

“Shut up” you say dryly, but you’re grinning.

“Where’s Monaco?” You mutter.

“Five seconds”

“No”

“Time’s up” she tells you, the alarm going off in front of you.

“Wait” Your eyes quickly scanning the paper. “Okay, I’m done” You look up.

“The timer’s been off for like, ten seconds” Rosanna laughs.

“Oh well”

“Okay, Y/n, show me what you’ve done” You grin, turning the clipboard around to reveal a messily dotted paper.

“Oh my”

“Good, right?”

“It’s certainly something”

“Yeah, something amazing”

“Sure, Y/n. Tell me what it’s supposed to be”

“Okay so, we have Miami, Texas, Las Vegas” You point to the US on the map.

“You’ve got that bit right”

“Then Mexico, and Montreal is somewhere up here” You gesture to Canada. “Not where Mexico City or Montreal are, but I’ll give you the point”

“Australia, Brazil, and the UK”

“Yeah, then what’s the mess on the rest of Europe?” You grin. “There’s Russia, Singapore is like, down here”

“Russia’s right, Singapore isn’t”

You give her a look. “What? You got them wrong!”

“How am I supposed to win if you tell me I get them wrong?”

“Maybe you won’t win then. C’mon-”

You cut her off. “Are you doubting my skills? Fine, I’ll show you. Japan is here-”

“No it’s not”

“This is Italy”

“That one’s right”

“Belgium is here”

“Nope”

“This is the Netherlands”

“Switzerland, actually”

“That’s Bahrain” Rosanna shakes her head. “It’s not”

“Saudia Arabia is here”

“That’s right”

“See, I told you I know my stuff” You tap your head with the marker and grin.

“You’ve got like six wrong”

“That’s Baku”

“Not even close”

“And then there’s Monaco” “You did get that one” You smile proudly.

“Spain”

“Yeah”

“Austria?”

“You were on a streak! Not Austria”

“Hungary”

“You are back to being wrong”

“Qatar”

“Yes, that’s Qatar”

“And Abu Dhabi” You finish.

“And no. Congrats Y/n, you got 14/23 right”

“Yeah, I always get it right”

“I- okay Y/n”

Grill the Grid Episode 3: Youngest to Oldest

“Hi” You sing-song as you walk into the studio and on the mark on the floor.

“Today Y/n, you’re going to put the drivers on the grid in their age order, from the youngest at the top and oldest at the bottom. You have two minutes” Rosanna says, giving you 20 magnets with each driver’s name on them.

“Are you ready?” She asks as you flip through each name.

“Yeah, why not”

“3, 2, 1, go”

“Alright this is gonna be easy. Let’s find oldest and youngest first, so me, I go at the very top, and then... Fernando right here, goes all the way to the bottom” You turn to grin at the camera.

“I believe Oscar is the next youngest, and then Logan? He’s besties with Oscar and that means they’re the same age so yeah, Logan”

You flip through a few more, and suddenly pause.“Um, how old is Zhou? He’s gotta be like, 21? 22? We’ll put him above Logan”

“Then Lando, oh and Yuki, he turned 22 or 23 a few months ago?” You know you’re not getting any answers, you never do, but you ask anyway.

“Or maybe they’re the same age! Yeah, let’s go with that, Lando and Yuki same age”

“Then... Okay, this isn’t easy, who’s next? How old is Charles? I’m gonna say 25 because he’s definitely not 26 and I don’t think anyone is younger than him. So, Charles, I think Pierre because again, they’re besties and that means they’re the same age- or no, Pierre is like, a little older”

“And Max, he’s young, he’s 25 so- oh no”

“Is Pierre older than Max?”

“How old is- Pierre is 26 right? So it goes Chares, Max, then Pierre”

“No because how old is Alex? He’s gotta be like 25 right? He can’t be- how old is George?”

“Oh my god, because see, in my mind, George is like 27 but I know-”

You pause.

“I don't think that’s true so- but how old is Alex?”

“Oh jeez” You cover your face with your hands.

“Alright, let’s do me, Oscar, Logan, Zhou, Lando and Yuki, Alex, Charles, George, Max, Pierre, and then Esteban to top it all off. That makes sense”

“That brings us to like 26-wait! How old is Lance?” You groan and throw your hands up.

“He’s either 24, 25, or 26. We’ll put him in front of Pierre and behind Estie” You look at your work and nod.

“And Carlos! He’s like 27, maybe, so after Esteban, probably”

“Yeah, okay, I think after that no one else is in their twenties, so thirties”

“KMag is 31 I think, Checo is- Checo's on the younger side, 33 or like, 35, I don’t know”

“Bottas is somewhere in between, low thirties I’m gonna say, so after Checo”

“Then Hulk, I think he’s 35 actually, so we’ll put him in front of Valtteri”

“And then Lewis right under Fernando. Wow, that was easy, I’m so good at this game” You place the last magnet and turn to grin at Rosanna.

“So, you got the first three right, but Yuki is the fourth youngest, then Lando, and then Zhou”

“I was close”

“Then Lance, George, and Charles”

You make a face. “Not so good then”

“Next goes Max, Esteban, and Alex”

“And you got the last seven correct, so you did okay”

“I think I should get extra points for trying though”

“No, Y/n”

(I only did 3 episodes because these were the only ones that I could really make a story out of, so… the end)

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #platonic f1 grid #grill the grid #2023 f1 season #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 2023 #f1 x reader

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aduckinpain · 3 months

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Grief still knows my number

Tags: Character study style writing, heavily implied Lestappen, Symbolism, Hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Very focused on dealing with Grief, Charles Leclerc centered, Charles Leclerc Analysis throughout the years, All the radios and quotes that people use to describe Charles are accurate

Word Count: 2.8k

This is also on AO3 by roianamustang (me).

Hardships and life go hand in hand. Walk side by side. Fall into step with each other. Bleed together. Sigh deeply. Rinse and repeat.

Time and healing go hand in hand. Presumably anyways, according to everyone. While the years have allowed the blood to gradually crystalize, Charles Leclerc doesn't think the wound will ever stop dripping on his pristine wooden floor.

Success, achievements, wins. All these things fly with glory. Trigger adrenaline. The blood pumps, moves. Colors seem brighter, voices seem simultaneously louder and quieter, blending in with the murmur of the wind, of the cheers. The heart doesn't stop, doesn't take a break. It keeps on going and going and going. If any tiredness is supposed to be felt, it seems non-existent at that moment. The trophy is cool, blending with the heat of his hands. The light reflects on the champagne bottle. The crowd roars, so does he.

Man has never felt more godly than when he's soaked in red with the cape of history and legacy flowing down his back. Never felt more untouchable than when he's deemed irreplaceable. A hero from a legend coming straight to life.

The highs reach the moon.

So the lows reach the Earth's core. Bright, yet hot enough to incinerate, evaporate.

People die and the world doesn't bat an eye. Life keeps moving and time keeps flowing. But its core weeps molten metal, scalding. Dripping furiously, wondering, screaming. It seems so loud, yet no one notices. Why don’t they see it? Why don’t they understand?

Every June, his phone rings. Echoes in the walls of his expensive apartment. No matter how much he pays, it soaks itself in the crevices between the tiles. Makes sure it follows him. Hangs heavy in his pockets, in his rooms.

The heart has four chambers, each one of Charles’ overflowing.

Every July, Charles hangs his heart, lets it air out in the Monaco air, near the sea. It never fully dries. It drips and drips and drips.

In 2014, F3 welcomed him with open arms, the sun shined bright and his career seemed to be soaring. The future clear.

On October 4th 2014, the present halted. It stopped. His heart dropped, yet it deafened his ears. Hands shaking and eyes unmoving, he heard the gasp of his maman next to him. From the corner of his eye he could see his papa get up and call someone in a fervor. He felt hands on his face and the panicked, yet soft voice of his mother. Everything blurred.

Turned dark.

Blank.

He doesn’t remember much afterwards.

On July 17th 2015, Charles Leclerc’s phone rang at 4:03 AM. Jules Bianchi called him on a Wednesday’s waking hour for the last time. The sea was bursting in his room through every opening, every window.

Jules was finally resting.

Charles couldn't wake up from this nightmare.

His heart swelled. The rush of liquid in its chambers sudden. Wrong. The first thing to fill up were the ventricles, allowing them to hang heavy at the bottom. Slowly over the years, with every drip, every leak, the atriums expanded with the never ending grief.

2017 was his year of change. F2 had kicked off with a grand slam and he kept racking up the points. One after the other, after a long and difficult time, Charles’ future seemed set. His road to F1 perfected already.

He wanted more. He couldn't wait to have it. He'd jump, leep, crouch and slide to achieve what he wanted, what he deserved.

He'd honor Jules, he'd make Papa proud.

He’d bleed red. Get submerged in. Breathe till the bubbles escaped his lungs to reach for the sky.

The high of Monaco still lingered on his skin. In the month in between he'd been counting down the days. Training, sleeping, hoping.

20 days left.

10 days left.

9 days, then 8.

7, then 6.

5, then 4.

Halt.

Stop.

Just stop.

Not again. It's too much.

No.

Not again. Not now. Why now?

No.

The 21st of June’s sun peaked its rays on the cloudy sky, Hervé Leclerc’s eyes slipped shut and Charles Leclerc met his breaking point.

The quiet before the storm, then a boom was heard.

A sudden calm and then a supernova.

His phone rang on the 25th of June.

‘He’d lost his father earlier in the week. We’re talking literally 48 hours later, he was in the car. He then went out, fell to last place, fought his way through and won the race. This was a kid who’d just lost his father and he was a kid at the time, a teenager. To have that kind of mental strength, I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Charles Leclerc won the 2017 F2 Baku Grand Prix.

Charles and Hervé dreamed a lot together. He remembers the race nights, the Grand Prix, the atmosphere, the wins. The drivers and their celebrations, their fireproofs and livery. The success, the wins, the championships, the legacy, the weight.

They remembered the red.

They looked up to the red.

They dreamed of it.

Laid down their lives for a chance to look at it in the eye.

So he lied.

His father on his deathbed, sick and weak, still held that spark in his last words. That smile, that used to be his comfort, now lingered with a looming feeling of dread. Of knowing what's happening.

So he lied.

And take him back in that moment right now, he would still lie.

With his own reassuring smile, Charles Leclerc looked at his dying father and told him Scuderia Ferrari signed him into F1. The horse pranced and jumped and bled Charles Leclerc, as much as his own family had bled for it.

So he lied.

And his father died happy.

His heart filled to the brim. Charles could almost sympathize with the weight of the horse on his back.

Soon enough it'd be his.

Soon enough he would be the horse.

Fury seeped from every pore, screeched in his head, escaped his lungs.

Everything he wanted was taken too early.

Not this.

He wouldn't allow this.

‘It’s very unusual for Ferrari to choose a young driver. But after a decade with no championship success, perhaps trying something a little bit different is going to reap its rewards.’

A year into F1, it became reality.

The wind howled, his heart soared. It dumped its contents on the ground. Blood red leaking down, slowly spilling over each step, each stair. He should be jumping in joy, flying through the sky. Climbing.

So why?

Why was it heavy?

He looked up hoping to see the Sun, catching glimpses of it in between the clouds.

He plunged.

Eyes wide open. Hand holding onto a hoof. Hearing the echoes of its neigh.

His phone rang.

The sound made him pick up his head. Hazy, confused, he looked at the called ID.

Papa <3

Charles Leclerc was drowning in molten gold.

He didn’t swim.

He declined.

‘What Charles is doing is a continuation of Jules’ legacy. Charles has a mission. A mission to do what Jules should have done.’

It was never meant to be his seat.

At least not like this.

He doesn’t know, if on that fateful day in Suzuka, rain hadn't been falling, a crash hadn’t happened, a life wasn’t lost, would he still be here? In this seat?

Who was bleeding more red? Him, his father or Jules?

Can dead men bleed?

Are his achievements his own?

At the end of the day, the past has happened. Its consequences reaped.

Charles can’t revive the dead, but he can honor them.

In his second year in F1, Charles Leclerc became a Ferrari driver.

In his first year in Ferrari, Charles’ teammate was a 4 time world champion.

In his second year in F1 and first in Ferrari, Charles Leclerc won in Spa.

Anthoine Hubert lost his life a few hours before. A crash and a boom. A win and a trophy.

Death is imminent. It favors none and follows all.

And yet, Charles Leclerc at the age of 22, feels its shadow linger near. Never close enough to him, no.

It lingers right there, on the podium, in the trophy, in his anthem, in his legacy.

It gazes, but never touches.

Some days he wished it did.

After all, no one can truly best the perfection of the dead.

‘You can see the celebrations starting. He’s got one more corner, the famous Parabolica to go. Mercedes threw everything at him today. Charles Leclerc has coped brilliantly!

He won in Spa! He wins in Monza!

Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2019 Italian Grand Prix!’

Monza is another type of beast. It’s godly. It paves the way for anyone, but it spreads the ocean for scarlet.

The confetti falls gently. Lewis Hamilton bathes him in champagne.

He points at the sky. He points at his suit. He looks above.

He sees the Sun.

He shakes his head, laughs in disbelief. Wipes his eyes.

Charles Leclerc wins.

‘On this Sunday afternoon, the Tifosis celebrate, what an epic race—’

Charles got so preoccupied with red he forgot about blue. Dark, mysterious, never ending blue.

Always there. Never far.

This cloud of rain that followed him around, dripping on the track.

Drip, drip, drip.

A puddle was created.

He pushed blue.

Disqualified the both of them.

He doesn’t regret anything. If he’s not winning, no one is.

Austria 2019 was a blur of purple. A blur of hate.

His blood was pumping. Pupils dilating. Eyebrows furrowed.

The PR training didn't matter in that moment.

Charles Leclerc doesn’t just lose.

He opened Instagram’s purple icon, went to his followings.

Typed in ��Max Verstappen’.

Pressed the button, made it turn blue again.

2020 comes and goes. The quarantine unfamiliar. Unknown. More people gain shadows, and there’s an inkling at the back of his mind that his might finally touch him.

But there’s no time.

He can’t wait and waste his time with things like fear.

Every win, every overtake is not his alone.

So Charles holds his breath and anticipates.

The sky sees. The clouds look back. His phone charges.

He’ll admit, while he doesn’t think he will ever have a teammate which he wouldn't deem his rival, Sebastian Vettel would always be a special case. Would always hold a special place in his pool of a heart.

So it hurt.

It wasn’t Seb’s fault at all. For the first time in his life, Charles Leclerc felt something else towards the prancing horse.

Admiration and hopes were temporarily hidden behind confusion and hurt.

This time the shadow didn’t touch or tap or even come closer.

So why was he alone again?

Why was he leaving?

Please don’t leave!

Don’t leave.

A ring cut through the silence.

He declined.

Charles knows hurt and sadness, anxiety and fear. But that’s too many things to account for, he can't be writing them all in his notebook. Seb wouldn't.

So he writes a piece of paper with ink, doesn't let it dry, crumbles it and puts it in a little red box. A label lays on it.

Rage.

2021 happened, that’s for sure.

Shit car, shit luck, shit strategy, shit Charles.

Oh, and a new teammate.

A win stolen.

But it’s ok. It’s fine.

Patience is something he has learned the hard way, honed it to be his comrade.

Silenced, his phone’s screen flashed at 5:58 AM.

He ignored.

2022 is here and so is Charles.

Bahrain. A dream on the precipice of flowing over the rim of the glass.

He won.

He won!

The season had started off on a good note.

In a good car.

It was now on his shoulders to bear the expectations. Not just of others and his own, but also the expectations of the dead and their wishes.

Hope is a scary, scary thing.

It runs along with failure and when you least expect it, it catches its arm while it plummets in the abyss.

Drags it along, one drag at a time.

Saudi Arabia was a close call, but the clouds overtook him.

That’s ok.

He’s just starting.

He’s got what it takes. He knows he does.

So, for the hundredth time, why?

Goddamnit, why?

Every time. Every time he lets himself want.

This happens.

Charles Leclerc wins in Australia.

Charles Leclerc loses in Imola.

Loses in Miami.

Loses in Spain.

Loses in Monaco.

Loses and loses and loses.

But he’s always been special to Austria.

And Austria seems like it wants to be special to him.

He’s always got a knack for the raging bull. Specifically the blue one.

He crosses the finish line and Charles Leclerc smiles. Eyes squinting in the face of the screams. Cheeks pulling upwards. He runs to that podium.

Charles Leclerc grins at the cloud, at the sky.

The cloud pours and Charles Leclerc laughs.

Turns around, shakes his head and looks at it in the eye. His one constant. Grief can't touch the fastest after all.

There is hope.

It was blatantly obvious after a few more races, that Ferrari had no clear vision on how to improve its car.

So he lost.

He had the championship cup in his hands, and it slipped through its fingers. Rolling away on a slope.

So he lost.

He got second, but second was never what he aimed for.

This time, when his phone rang, Charles Leclerc anticipated it.

A thunk was heard. A crack was felt.

Whether it was his phone screen or his heart, Charles didn’t know.

He broke.

He doesn’t know if it will ever get better or heal. Everyone tells him scars heal with time, yet his is infected.

He can’t do this. Can’t hold this weight.

Why does he still call?

Why?

Grief still knows my number, and I don’t have the heart to block it.

2023 rolled around and there was nothing he could do about it.

There was nothing Ferrari could do about the absolute hindrance of a car that they had created.

A tractor would’ve at least given him more consistency.

It was out of his hands, but maybe he never had it in the first place.

His heart had been hanging out to dry for a while, yet the humidity kept it aching.

So for the first time in his career, summer break rolled around and Charles Leclerc breathed.

The shadow has retreated.

So with that in mind, you could see how it was a pleasant surprise.

Pole positions, podiums. No wins yet, but the Sun was shining, the Earth rotating and its core waking up from its slumber with slow, but assured movements.

Mattia Binotto out.

Fred Vasseur is in.

Finally for the first time in years, Charles felt the warm embrace of a calm figure in his life, who understood his struggles.

Finally for the first time in years, Charles Leclerc was first. Not in the championship standings, in his own.

The dead may be honored, but they are gone. They can be remembered.

The living are here. They can’t be put to wait in line, life doesn’t wait for people to catch up.

His blood is rushing, his lungs expanding, eyelids blinking, thoughts running.

He’s alive. He’s here. He’s important.

Charles Leclerc races in Las Vegas for himself. He fights for himself. He forgives for himself.

Max races after him to apologize but Charles has already moved on. He doesn’t hold grudges anymore.

He wraps his arm around the cloud and reassures. He smiles, eyes sparkling in the Vegas lights. Blue meets green.

He remembers and looks at the sky. His heart returned in his chest, no longer in the hands of mother nature’s fickle decisions.

Charles Leclerc makes his own decisions.

After Abu Dhabi, his phone rings again.

In the first time in 6 years, he answers.

It’s quiet for a while.

The number you are trying to contact is inactive. Please try again.

At least he tried.

A ping was heard. A message arrived.

Papa <3

impr0ud

He remembers the adrenaline, the confusion. He froze for a moment, but recovered quickly.

He replies.

Papa? Are you there?

Unseen, unanswered.

And yet, he’s content.

He sleeps and dreams, and legacies don’t plague him.

He sleeps and he wakes up the next day, calls his maman.

“Hey maman. How’ve you been?”

Charles Leclerc is familiar with Grief’s number, as much as he’s familiar with his own.

2023 ends. But he’s just getting started.

The winter break came and went in the blink of an eye.

Contract extensions, announcement dates, livery showcasings and more.

Air enters his lungs and he lets himself feel.

5 wins this year, that’s the goal for now.

A small step backwards for a giant leap forwards.

Charles Leclerc is ready, has always been.

Rage in one hand and pride in the other, he steps forwards.

Blue on his side, as was meant to be. Blue meets green, understanding in between.

The crown on his head high and bright, and well deserved. His accomplishments and wins.

The cape down his back is theirs. He’ll let them have this.

After all, the championship will be his.

‘Charles Leclerc. Prince of Ferrari. King of Monza. Legacy of Monaco. What a star of the future! Celebrating wildly in the present!’

-End-

Please note that no matter how much I am writing here, it is all artistic speculation of what Charles himself has decided to show the world. Do not forget that these drivers are real people.

All of the italicized sentences that start and end with ' ' are actual words said for Charles, either by Netflix, Will Buxton, Crofty or other documentaries.

The phone ringing from a person that has already passed away, has happened to me and my mom. So it directly inspired me.

Time for some clarification of my analysis:

The wound is grief showing its head at the very start of this.

The cape is Ferrari obviously.

The Earth's core and its molten metal is always Charles himself.

Every correlation with a phone/phone call is Herve's, except the specific Jules one.

Every time the heart is mentioned it mostly means Jules grief.

The ventricles are the two lower chambers of the heart, which in this case filled up first, which is why it weighed him down.

The atriums are the two upper chambers, which are slowly overflowing.

Herve died exactly 4 days before his F2 Baku race, that is why the time stops at 4.

Red is Ferrari.

He holds onto the hoof and hear a neigh. This is Ferrari's prancing horse.

The Sun is hope, the unachievable.

The clouds and the color blue are always Max Verstappen, including the blue raging bull.

The sky are both Jules and Herve.

The shadow is always death in every mention.

Purple is the conflict and the brief pushing from Max on Austria. It shows an intriguing way of which even when they are fighting they are always in sync.

The notebook is the habit he picked up from Sebastian.

His one constant in life that will never leave is Max Verstappen. He calls him the fastest despite not knowing how the results of the 2023 season.

The message for anyone temporarily confused says: I'm proud. Its more of a sign that Charles has finally started racing for himself, has let go of some of the self-afflicted responsibility to hold the dead's wishes.

Every blue colored things is Max Verstappen.

Every red colored thing is the intense feeling that Ferrari gives him, every win makes him soar, but every loss digs him deep.

The title of this work is inspired by someone on social media showing their own experience of old phone numbers calling.

No one can best the perfection of the dead is a quote from Aya, in Bungou Stray Dogs season 5, which I thought was exactly what this fic needed.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some reposts, comments or likes!

If you like this, I have written more stories that can be found on my Formula 1 masterlist. Including: Lestappen, Landoscar with more to come. If it manages to spark your interest, please go support those as well!

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biropen · 8 months

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We need to bring more awareness to this photo of Oscar

#he’s just my little goofy guy #and people say he has no personality #op81 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri my beloved #oscar pastry #long hair oscar agenda #f1 #2023 f1 season #McLaren #twinkclaren #mctwinks

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petit-papillion · 5 months

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#happy charles happy xavi #and vice versa #can't imagine the frustration charles was feeling with the car didn't impact xavi #charles leclerc #xavi marcos #2023 f1 season

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sweetsparkles · 1 year

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April 16th 2023

#charles leclerc #f1 #f1 2023 #scuderia ferrari #formula 1 #2023 f1 season #monaco #prince of monaco #he looks so gorgeous #monte carlo #charles leclerc edit #charles leclerc imagines

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fierytrash · 5 months

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Give me a Yuki podium, to every higher pwer out there, give me a Yuki podium

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namgg0 · 1 month

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#fps games #racing game #horror games #horror #game #namkk0 #gamers of tumblr #gaming #2023 f1 season #real racing 3

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8celestebells · 9 months

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POLL TIME!!!

#formula 1 #reserve drivers #2023 f1 season #mclaren f1 #ferrari f1 #aston martin f1 #alfa romeo f1 #haas f1 team #red bull racing

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aduckinpain · 5 months

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I was tagged by the amazing @paint-it-red-and-black for this and I found it so adorable I had to do it!

Use this link to make your own F1 Wrapped!

DRIVERS:

1. Charles Leclerc

The world may be unraveled and built again and I will still choose this man as my top driver. While admittedly at first I was captivated by his looks, I soon started genuinely enjoying this sport. Doing so allowed me to look into his story and by God is it something straight out of a book. His mentality to learn and remember everyone he's lost and fight for them while selflessly sacrificing himself for their wishes is something I couldn't fathom in a lifetime. And yet he does fight for himself and he does it viciously. He is one of the best, one of the only who I think with a competitive car could give Max a fight and win, and I need to see him spread his full potential. I am convinced that if this man doesn't win a World Championship then F1 is unachievable and Ferrari will destroy their own legend. You cannot just find another Charles Leclerc.

Also his dichotomy is insane. He's so chaotic it makes him incredibly entertaining.

If Charles Leclerc has one fan, it's me.

If Charles Leclerc has no fans, I'm dead.

2. Lando Norris

Admittedly I completely overlooked this man for about 2 months. Absolutely no second glance he wasn't interesting enough for me.

I repent for my mistake as he's consumed my waking days and nights. An absolute talent that stemmed from hard work. His second part of the season was to die for, I believe he as well, is one of the people that could fight Max for a championship. So young as well, and even if he managed to get there slowly because of his father, he tried to make it as realistic as he could. Staying a year just getting coffee orders while he's shaking in his boots for every interviews. A genuine sweetheart that deserves every good thing. I hate how self-critical he seems to be . He needs that win, he CAN win. In 2024 maiden victory for Lando Norris come on.

3. Max Verstappen

Everything, and I mean everything that this man has achieved, is deserved. Every win, every record broken, every championship was his. Because he is a generational talent, he is someone worthy. His past absolutely destroys me, especially seeing that he is in contact with his father still, but I can understand the way he thinks. Still what he went through in childhood is no excuse for the success he has now. This man is the sweetest, kindest person I've seen. He's grown so much over the years from what I can tell and he treats everyone so equally. From past temporary teammates, to rivals. A genuine joy to be around I want to give him a hug every day and tell him that he is special. Red Bull's second golden boy but also mine.

4. Oscar Piastri

At first glance, according to people I know, I look like this man. The bangs don't help, neither does the fact that I act similarly. However I will never complain if it means I can work hard and earn the success he's had in his first year in F1. When I say wow for him, I mean it. Showstopping performance. This man will be a Champion one day he has to. Absolute down to earth guy as well but I love when I see his competitive spirit shove its head between the calm walls. It's always the quiet ones and I'd know as I am one.

5. Alexander Albon

For fifth place I could've chosen a lot of people as I genuinely really like the current grid (with a few exceptions). But Alex is amazing. Truly believe that if you put him in a competitive car he'd bring miracles. He's put that Williams in places it never dreamed of driving around. One of the most talented drivers on the grid and his personality is to die for. So so nice and lovely genuinely.

RACES:

1. Las Vegas

I hated Las Vegas. Honestly still kinda do in a lot of aspects. But the race was the best. Charles definitely deserved that win and Max's penalty was too little, but a race is a race, it doesn't matter how you win it as long as you do. Charles' driving however was absolutely phenomenal. That overtake on Checo was borderline the most exhilarating thing I could ever feel. I was so shocked when I saw it, it took me a good 5 min to collect myself.

2. Singapore

While Carlos may not be on my list, the win he had in Singapore was well-deserved and amazingly iconic. I don't think I'll ever get over my confusion of hearing this mf say it's on purpose corresponding to Lando's DRS. that's the sexiest thing this man has done. That Carlando podium added extra years to my life. Their hugs and the champagne were the sweetest things ever. And Lando's pics from the podium were very um.......👁️👁️

3. Mexico

Very simple. Lando P17 to P5. Phenomenal driving. After the Austin GP disqualification. Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton on the podium? Exactly what I wished for. Brought my boy back from the slump that's called the 2023 F1 season.

4. Qatar

Now to be clear, I hated Qatar. I will hate Qatar and I hate Qatar. It was absolutely inhumane and there should've been different precautions or the race time should've changed because I don't care that these drivers are trained, that was actual torture. So when I say Qatar as my 4th favorite, I mean the sprint race.

Oscar Piastri the man that you are and the man that you will be. Rookie season and won a Sprint race. I know you will be great and I cannot wait for your future.

I do dislike how they overshadowed his win with Max's championship. While I understand the celebration, he was going to celebrate at the end of the season as well. All in all, I'm happy for both of them.

5. Suzuka

My reasoning for this is even simpler. If you ever need to know my weak point, just look at the number of reoccurring driver things I have in my room. You will find an outstanding amount of Sebastian Vettels everywhere. On a shirt, in my phone, on my phone, on my wall and more to come. My reason for this is just his little bee project and how much I adored seeing him in his little corner waving his flags and the bee activity he did the day before. Everybody loves Sebastian Vettel. As they should.

RACES WATCHED: 12/22

Now I got into F1 during the summer break, which is the reason I wasn't able to see half of the races. However I am grateful purely because I don't think I could've experienced Charles Leclerc losing his grasp over the championship and Sebastian Vettel's retirement in 2022. That would've been my actual breaking point. And I saw a Max dominant season yes, however I saw half of it and most of the races were very entertaining still. I love Max too so.

TOP TEAM:

My genuine choices for this were McLaren, Red Bull and Williams.

I went for McLaren because of their amazing driver lineup, improvement over the second part of the season and really cool pit stops.

Red Bull however has been unbeatable and I will give them all the credit. The strategies, the pit stops, the wins, everything. Phenomenal

Williams grew on me quickly after Qatar. While the car may be frankly, shit, the team seems incredibly put together and I adore that they gave Logan a second chance. Also that they put the well being of their drivers first. James Vowles adopt me.

Thank you so so much for this, it was incredibly entertaining!!

If you want pushki do the same @h4mmert1me . I know most of your opinions tho <3

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #lestappen #f1 #max verstappen #lando norris #oscar piastri #alex albon #2023 f1 season #f1 wrapped #challenge

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