Warnings: None, unless you count Charles having a mini heart attack and Toto yelling in three languages.
🏎️ Growing Up Ferrari’s Little Mascot
Y/N had been born with the smell of gasoline in her lungs and the sound of pit guns in her ears. The Ferrari garage wasn’t just her second home—it was her actual home. Her dad was a mechanic who had been with Ferrari for over a decade, and somehow, his kid had ended up becoming every driver’s unofficial niece.
By 2025, she was 17, loud, a walking car encyclopedia, and far too comfortable calling out World Champions for their nonsense. And the worst part? They all let her.
Charles swore she was like his little sister. Lewis claimed she knew more about aerodynamics than half the rookies who walked in. Max admitted he was actually afraid of her after she corrected his toe angle mid-track walk. George described her as “terrifying in a polite way.” Yuki saw her as a snack rival. Kimi once had his homework corrected by her and still hadn’t recovered from being roasted about his handwriting.
Y/N wasn’t officially employed by anyone, but the paddock knew her. She was the kid with grease on her hands, always rolling around under a car, and she had the uncanny ability to spot when something was off before even the engineers noticed.
🔧 The Spark of Chaos
It started innocently enough. Y/N had been hanging around the Ferrari garage, listening to her dad rant about the scrap pile they had to sort through.
So naturally, her brain went: “What if I… just… built something?”
Two weeks later, hidden in the corner of the garage, Y/N had assembled what could generously be described as a Frankenstein go-kart. It had an old kart chassis, leftover Ferrari bodywork from 2022, and wheels that absolutely did not match.
But it ran.
And that was the problem.
🚨 The Discovery
The first person to see it was Charles.
Charles blinked at the tiny car in the corner. “…what…is that?”
Y/N, without hesitation: “My child. Be respectful.”
Charles: “YOUR WHAT??”
Lewis walked in behind him, holding an espresso. He stopped mid-sip. “…why does it have a Ferrari front wing on it?”
Y/N, proudly: “Because it deserves the best.”
Lewis: “…that’s a 2022 spec part. Do you even—wait. Does it run?”
Y/N, grinning like she’d just robbed a bank: “Want to see?”
Before either Ferrari driver could stop her, Y/N hopped into the seat, twisted some questionable wiring, and the car ROARED to life.
Charles nearly dropped dead on the spot.
Charles: “NO NO NO. THIS IS DANGEROUS. YOU’RE A CHILD.”
Lewis: already filming it for Instagram “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
🏁 The News Spreads
Unfortunately for Charles, Lewis uploaded the video with the caption: “Ferrari’s new junior driver 👀”
The internet broke. Within twenty minutes, every team garage was aware. Within thirty, half the grid was at Ferrari demanding to see it.
👀 Red Bull’s Reaction
Max stared at the scrap car like it was cursed. “…this is illegal.”
Y/N: “Show me the rulebook.”
Max, muttering: “…you terrify me.”
Yuki was already halfway into the seat before Charles physically dragged him out by the collar. “Move. I’m testing it.”
Charles: “NO. GET OUT. THIS IS NOT A TOY.”
Lewis: laughing while still recording “Actually, it very much is a toy.”
Y/N: “It’s art.”
🧑🏫 Mercedes Shows Up
George arrived first, pristine as ever, followed by Kimi, who had heard rumors that Y/N had “created a monster.”
George: hands on hips “This is not safe.”
Y/N: “Neither is Mercedes’ tire strategy sometimes but you don’t see me complaining.”
George: offended gasp
Kimi, wide-eyed: “You built this? Out of scraps?”
Y/N: “Yep.”
Kimi: “…can you help me with my physics homework later?”
George: “KIMI.”
Y/N: “Sure. But only if I can test drive it around the paddock.”
George: “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”
Lewis, unhelpful: “I think we should let her.”
Charles, about to have an aneurysm: “NO ONE IS DRIVING THIS DEATH TRAP.”
🔥 The Great Scrap Car Race (aka the Dumbest Idea Ever)
Of course, the more Charles said no, the more everyone else said yes.
It started with Yuki daring Y/N to do a lap around the paddock. Then Max insisted he could drive it faster. Then Lewis suggested a mini GP.
Within an hour, half the paddock had gathered for the first unofficial “Scrap Car Grand Prix.”
Rules were simple: one lap around the paddock, no sabotaging the kart, and winner gets bragging rights and an energy drink supplied by Yuki.
The participants? Y/N (the creator, obviously), Yuki (chaos incarnate), Max (because of course), George (to prove he’s responsible but also competitive), and Charles (only entered to make sure Y/N didn’t die).
Lewis was the commentator. Kimi was the flag waver. Toto tried to shut it down but failed spectacularly when Y/N pointed out “there’s no rule against it.”
📣 Race Commentary Highlights
Lewis: “Alright everyone, welcome to the first ever Scrap Car GP. I’ll be your commentator. This is already the dumbest thing I’ve seen in my entire career and I raced Pastor Maldonado.”
The race started with Y/N actually getting the jump because she built the thing and knew its quirks. Yuki nearly crashed into a catering table. George was trying to be careful but also screaming at everyone for cutting corners. Max was treating it like a real race and terrifying the spectators. Charles was literally just driving behind Y/N like a bodyguard.
Lewis: “Max is pushing Y/N into the wall—CHILL, SHE’S SEVENTEEN.”
Toto, off-camera and furious: “I’M CALLING YOUR FATHER.”
Y/N, yelling mid-race: “DO IT, HE’LL BE PROUD.”
🏆 The Aftermath
In the end, Y/N won purely because everyone else crashed, stalled, or gave up.
Max ran out of patience and stormed off. Yuki got distracted by snacks. George claimed he was “robbed” because he followed the rules. Charles deliberately slowed down to make sure Y/N was okay.
Lewis handed her a toy trophy he found in the Ferrari motorhome. “Ladies and gentlemen, your new World Champion.”
Charles, head in hands: “I hate all of you.”
📰 Media Reaction
By the next morning, the headlines were insane: “Ferrari Mechanic’s Daughter Builds Race Car Out of Scraps” … “Future F1 Talent? Meet the Girl Who Outsmarted Half the Grid” … “Lewis Hamilton Seen Commentating Illegal Paddock Race.”
Ferrari PR was in shambles. Y/N’s dad threatened to ground her. Toto Wolff was allegedly heard muttering about “junior driver contracts.”
Meanwhile, Y/N was just sitting pretty, polishing her Franken-kart, and asking if anyone had spare carbon fiber she could use.
✨ Chaos Forever
Y/N, grinning at her scrap car: “Next time, I’m building one with a DRS system.”
Charles: “NEXT TIME??”
Lewis: “I’ll sponsor it.”
George: “This is an actual safety hazard.”
Yuki: “I call dibs on first test drive.”
Max: “…if she enters F2 with that thing, I’m retiring.”
2 weeks later...
✨The Upgrade Nobody Asked For
The problem with Y/N wasn’t that she had ideas. It was that she had access to mechanics, drivers, and occasionally, very bored engineers who thought “helping the kid with her project” was a good way to kill time.
Two weeks after the Scrap Car GP, Ferrari discovered Y/N had been sneaking into the garage late at night, raiding the parts bin. Again.
This time, she wasn’t building a go-kart. She was upgrading.
🛠️ The Secret Helpers
She had help, of course. Yuki smuggled snacks and acted as lookout. Kimi Antonelli “accidentally” left his laptop with aero models open. George pretended he didn’t see anything but “accidentally” dropped notes about suspension setups. And Lewis? Lewis encouraged her constantly, occasionally tossing her leftover carbon fiber like it was candy.
Even Max caved after she pointed out a flaw in his simulator setup. He leaned over her shoulder once, muttered something about “that’s not the right camber angle,” and then stalked off like he hadn’t just contributed.
By the end of the month, Y/N’s Franken-kart had evolved. It had a DRS flap, better suspension, reinforced brakes, and an engine that absolutely had no business being inside a kart.
😱 The Reveal
Charles walked in one morning, humming, coffee in hand… only to freeze at the sight of Y/N revving her upgraded beast.
Charles: “WHAT IS THAT.”
Y/N: “Version two. Now with DRS.”
Charles: “IT HAS DRS???”
Lewis, casually leaning against the wall: “She’s innovating.”
Charles: “SHE’S GOING TO DIE.”
Y/N: “Nah, I fixed the braking system.”
George, whispering: “She actually did. It’s better than ours.”
Charles: “WHAT.”
🏎️ Scrap Car GP 2.0 (aka The Disaster Grand Prix)
It was inevitable. The grid begged for another race. Y/N insisted on it. Charles begged them not to. Guess who won?
Scrap Car GP 2.0 had actual heats, a bracket system, and a finishing podium made out of Red Bull crates. This time, even more drivers joined.
Participants included Y/N, Yuki, Max, George, Kimi, and—against his better judgment—Charles. Lewis commentated again. Fernando Alonso showed up just to spectate and bet money.
This race was chaos. Y/N’s upgraded kart smoked everyone down the straights. Yuki tried to ram her and ended up in a flower bed. Max pushed so hard he nearly spun himself. George lectured everyone while still losing. Kimi nearly cried with joy when Y/N let him test the DRS.
Charles was screaming the entire time.
🏆 Aftermath, Again
Y/N won. Again.
Lewis hoisted her onto the Red Bull crate podium like she’d just won Monaco. The crowd (aka half the paddock and some very confused journalists) cheered. Someone threw confetti.
Charles looked five years older. “We are ALL going to get sued.”
Ferrari PR passed out in the corner.
And Toto? Toto was already drafting paperwork for a contract. “If we don’t sign her, Red Bull will.”
✨ Chaos Forever
Y/N, tinkering with her kart: “Next upgrade, I’m adding ERS.”
Charles: “STOP ADDING THINGS.”
Lewis: “I’ll get you the batteries.”
George: “This is madness.”
Yuki: “I’m bringing snacks for the next race.”
Max: “…if she actually builds a hybrid system, I’m done.”
And that was how a 17-year-old mechanic’s kid became the unofficial terror and pride of the F1 paddock—one scrap car at a time.
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I saw someone saying that Archive of our own being an Omega makes so much sense because it takes fics after fics all day every day and just sits there looking pretty.
plus a small snippet under the cut from the scene in my fic this AMAZING commission from @izaya-art is based on of Maeve and Garreth (platonic besties) playing Wizard’s Chess. Well and truly nailed this piece so hard and I’m forever one of her biggest fans in everything she creates. Thank you so much!!!! AND THE CANON BUNNY SLIPPERS LIVE!!!!
Snippet from The Wronksi Feint in ‘How To Lose A Slytherin in 10 Days’ :
Maeve tapped a fingernail against the chessboard. A slow, satisfied smile curled at the corners of her mouth as her knight swung his sword and neatly cleaved Garreth’s king clean in two. The tiny monarch let out a squeaky gasp before its crown rolled across the table and stopped neatly at Maeve’s waiting finger.
“Checkmate,” she said sweetly, like she hadn’t just gleefully executed a royal decapitation.
Garreth groaned so pathetically, you’d think her knight had taken him out instead. He flopped back in his chair, one arm slung over his face with such theatrical despair, Maeve half-expected the frog choir to appear and start up a mournful hymn.
“That’s not fair,” he whined. “You’re cheating.”
Maeve scoffed. “It’s wizard’s chess, Weasley. The pieces practically move themselves, you can’t cheat.” She gave him a shrug, just to twist the knife. “Maybe you’re just not very good.”
He lowered his arm just enough to scowl at her — or try to — before cracking and sticking his tongue out like a five-year-old who’d been told they couldn’t have Sugar Quills for dinner.
“Alright, alright, I deserve that.” With a flick of his wand, the board began to reset. Splintered pawns reassembled their heads with tiny grumbles, and one bishop shook out its robes indignantly and Maeve could have sworn it stuck its middle finger up at her before taking to its square. “We’re going again. Only this time, I start.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m watching you.”
Maeve made a lazy, ‘feel free’ gesture and watched as he pushed a very timid-looking pawn forward.
“So,” she began casually, nudging one of her own pawns ahead. The tiny piece straightened its back like it had something to prove. “I hear Leander Prewett’s got his sticky pastry-loving hands on a love potion.”
She said it lightly, like it was nothing, but her eyes flicked up, trying to catch the telltale flicker of guilt on Garreth’s face.“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that though, would you?”
Little shit didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look up. Just furrowed his brow in very serious bishop placement strategy.
“Pastry-loving?”
“Think it might have actually been a danish – stop no, don’t distract me,” she snapped, lifting her wand and that same bishop exploded into neat wooden splinters.
“Oi! That’s cheat–”
“Why’s he got a love potion, hmm?” she leaned forward and slapped her palms on the table, making the chessboard jump and her King shake his little fist at her.
Garreth conveniently stared at a portrait to her left.
“No idea what you’re on about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Maeve pushed another pawn ahead. The tiny piece marched forward with wild, hopeless confidence, puffed up like it genuinely thought it could actually take on the rest of Garreth’s army solo. Bless its deluded little soul. “Sure you don’t.”
She loved Garreth, she really did — in those ways a person loves her their favourite cousin. It had always been that way. But bless his heart, he was thick as fuck. Had zero poker face and was walking right into her trap. She already knew , she just wanted him to admit it.
“Because you’re certainly not the type,” she went on, a faint smile playing at her lips as she watched her best friend squirm, “to be whipping up some dodgy little potion right before the Yule Ball, are you?”
Garreth finally looked at her, too proud of himself to pretend any longer. And the little fucker grinned .
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