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could you maybe write something about like a hyperactive toddler/rookie (maybe a drivers niece or little sister) who never seems to be tired out and like gives the drivers a hard time but at the same time is like annoying as glitter sometimes but also lost like a baby cub and unfocused (like a bit of an ADHD character)
Love your writing π
ποΈ they said "keep an eye on her" (the grid failed immediately)
Pairing: Platonic! F1 Grid Γ youngkid!Reader
Genre: Comedy β’ Found Family β’ Fluff β’ Slice of Life β’ Toddler Chaos β’ Paddock Shenanigans
Warnings: Excessive cuteness, sleep-deprived adults, sticky hands, zero impulse control, drivers getting outsmarted by a four-year-old, one (1) exhausted race engineer, glitter
Everyone assumed she'd get tired eventually.
Everyone.
Including her uncle.
Including the entire Mercedes garage.
Including the security guards.
Including Toto Wolff, who had looked everyone dead in the eye at 8:00 a.m. and confidently declared,
"She woke up at six. She'll probably nap before qualifying."
He was wrong.
Spectacularly wrong.
By 8:17 a.m., she'd already:
climbed onto three toolboxes,
stolen someone's radio headset,
asked Lewis if race cars could fly,
accidentally walked into Ferrari,
forgotten why she was there,
discovered a butterfly,
followed the butterfly,
forgotten the butterfly,
found a puddle,
and announced she wanted pancakes.
She had not eaten breakfast.
She had simply remembered pancakes existed.
Lewis found her sitting underneath George's car.
Not trapped.
Just...
sitting.
Looking at a bolt.
"Whatcha doing?"
She looked up.
"I'm thinkin'."
"About what?"
"...I forgot."
Lewis nodded.
"Fair enough."
The entire grid had accidentally developed a shift schedule.
Nobody admitted it.
Everyone participated.
9:00 a.m.
Lando's turn.
Lando had been told to watch her "for five minutes."
Four minutes later he couldn't find her.
Panic.
Actual panic.
He searched McLaren.
He searched Mercedes.
He searched catering.
He checked underneath tables.
He checked bathrooms.
He nearly called security.
Oscar quietly pointed upward.
Y/N was sitting on top of six stacked tire blankets.
Somehow.
No one knew how she'd gotten there.
She waved.
"Hi Lan."
"...how did you get up there?"
"I climbed."
"Using what?"
She looked around.
"...forgot."
Oscar inherited babysitting duty.
Which mostly consisted of following ten feet behind her while she wandered with complete confidence.
She would march in one direction.
Stop suddenly.
Spin.
Walk another way.
Become fascinated by absolutely nothing.
Then announce,
"I was goin' somewhere."
Oscar asked,
"Where?"
"I dunno."
"...okay."
Five minutes later she proudly arrived at the exact place she'd started.
Mission accomplished.
Charles made the mistake of showing her stickers.
Now she wanted stickers.
All stickers.
Every sticker.
She decorated:
her shirt,
his sleeve,
Carlos's water bottle,
Fred's clipboard,
a camera tripod,
and one completely innocent mechanic.
Fred didn't notice until media day.
Carlos arrived carrying glitter.
Which, in hindsight, was a terrible decision.
"Want to do arts and crafts?"
Every adult within hearing distance shouted,
"NO."
Too late.
There was glitter.
Everywhere.
On the tables.
On the floor.
On Lewis.
Inside a helmet.
On Christian's shoes.
Nobody understood the physics involved.
Glitter had somehow reached the Aston Martin garage.
Fernando stared at it.
Looked at the toddler.
Looked back at the glitter.
Accepted fate.
"Sorry."
"Did you spill it?"
"No."
"...then why are you apologizing?"
"I forgot."
The paddock collectively decided she possessed the attention span of a hummingbird.
She would begin sentences like:
"I'm gonna go tell Maxβ"
Then stop.
See a pigeon.
Spend fifteen minutes attempting diplomacy with the pigeon.
Never remember Max.
Max discovered this firsthand.
She marched over determinedly.
"Maxie."
"Yeah?"
"I hafta tell you somethin'."
He crouched.
"What is it?"
Long pause.
Tiny frown.
"..."
"..."
"...I forgot."
Max waited.
She gasped.
"I LIKE DINOSAURS."
Then sprinted away.
Max looked after her.
Then looked at the nearest camera.
"I think I just got side-quested."
Kimi Antonelli became her designated drawing buddy.
Mostly because he was patient.
She drew circles.
Declared they were race cars.
One looked suspiciously like a potato.
She insisted it was George.
George was offended.
"Why am I the potato?"
"It has hair."
"I have hair."
"It funny."
"..."
"...fair."
Oliver Bearman made the mistake of letting her borrow his cap.
She disappeared.
Again.
Twenty minutes.
Entire paddock searching.
Found asleep.
Under a hospitality couch.
Still wearing the cap.
One sock missing.
Nobody ever found the sock.
Yuki introduced her to bubble wrap.
Disaster.
For thirty straight minutes:
POP.
POP.
POP.
POP.
POP.
Mechanics thought something was broken.
It wasn't.
Just Y/N.
Very happy.
Pierre taught her rock-paper-scissors.
She immediately invented "rocket."
Rocket beat everything.
She won every game.
Declared herself champion.
Fernando applauded.
Alex Albon discovered she liked piggyback rides.
Unfortunately.
She never wanted to get down.
For almost an hour.
Every time he crouched:
"Again!"
"Y/N..."
"Again!"
"...okay."
Logan found her crying.
Immediate concern.
"What happened?"
"I lost my dinosaur."
"Oh no."
They searched.
Lewis searched.
Charles searched.
Oscar searched.
Lando checked catering.
Security checked lost and found.
Thirty-five minutes later...
The dinosaur was in her pocket.
She'd forgotten.
She hugged Logan anyway.
"Wuv you Loggie."
Worth it.
Lunch presented a new challenge.
Because she wouldn't sit still.
One bite.
Run.
Come back.
Half a grape.
Run.
Return.
Drink juice.
Leave.
Wave at helicopter.
Forget sandwich existed.
George eventually carried her around while she absentmindedly ate crackers.
It was the only successful feeding strategy all weekend.
Then came media day.
Big mistake.
Huge.
One reporter asked Lewis,
"What's the biggest challenge this season?"
Before he could answerβ
Tiny voice.
"ME."
Everyone looked.
Y/N had climbed into the empty chair.
Lewis nodded solemnly.
"Correct."
She also interrupted Charles mid-interview to whisper,
"I found bug."
He immediately followed her outside to inspect the bug.
The Ferrari PR team nearly cried.
The race engineers were worse.
They adored her.
One handed her a dry-erase marker.
Now she had access to strategy boards.
She drew smiling suns.
One giraffe.
And what she insisted was "downforce."
Nobody questioned it.
Near sunset, her uncle finally sighed.
"I think she's slowing down."
The entire grid watched hopefully.
She yawned.
Eyes drooping.
Tiny wobble.
Lewis smiled.
"Nap time."
She climbed into his lap.
Closed her eyes.
Silence.
Finally.
Peace.
...
Thirty-seven seconds laterβ
Her eyes snapped open.
She pointed across the paddock.
"ICE CREAM."
And she was running again.
Lewis didn't even try to stop her.
He simply stood up.
Looked at Charles.
Charles looked at Oscar.
Oscar looked at Max.
Max looked at Fernando.
Fernando sighed.
The entire grid, without saying a word, collectively jogged after the world's tiniest, loudest, most distractible little human.
Because someone had to make sure the baby cub didn't accidentally wander into the pit lane chasing a butterfly.
