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pucksandpower · 13 days

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Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

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starkwlkr · 3 months

Text

the hamilton girls | lewis hamilton

based on dave grohl’s interviews about his daughters <33 he’s my favorite girl dad i can always trust dave grohl

Lewis Hamilton was many things. A Formula 1 driver, a seven time world champion, an idol, an inspiration to many young kids, but most of all, he was a husband and father to three girls. His family was everything to him. He enjoyed being a dad to his three precious girls.

Maeve was his oldest. She was born on a sunny day in 2013. Then came his second, Violet, born in 2017. Violet instantly became Maeve’s best friend. Lewis and Y/n were thankful that Maeve didn’t go through a jealous phase. Lastly, came their third girl, Gracie, born in early 2020.

The Hamilton girls would join their father in the paddock when they didn’t have school. Dressed in Mercedes merch, they walked hand in hand with their mother to the Mercedes garage. The entire team loved them, it was impossible not to.

“Dad! I really want lemonade!” Violet poked Lewis’ side until he payed attention to her.

“There’s no lemonade here. Have some water.” Lewis suggested, but Violet frowned. Lewis didn’t want his daughter to be upset so he directed the girls to Mercedes hospitality in hopes that someone could make the girls a lemonade. In the end, his three daughters ended up with their lemonade.

At one point, they even because Twitter famous whenever they were at the races. Violet had a habit of sleeping even before the race ended so when the camera showed Lewis celebrating his win, the camera panned over to Lewis’ family showing little Violet asleep with her mouth slightly open in her mom’s arms.

Maeve was half asleep, but she still made a heart with her hands. Gracie was with her grandma, but you were pretty sure she was asleep as well.

But when they weren’t attending races, the Hamilton girls were back in school. Whenever Lewis had time off, he would pick up the girls from school, giving you some time to yourself. He knew how the school pickup process was, what he didn’t know was how long it would take. When it was finally his time to park in front of the school, a teacher walked up making Lewis roll down the window.

The teacher was taken by surprise when she saw Lewis. “Um . . Who are you here to pick up, sir?”

“Maeve and Violet Hamilton.” He replied. Then the teacher nodded and walked back to the school. Seconds later, his two girls walked patiently towards their dad’s black Mercedes. Lewis could feel the other parents staring at him. It wasn’t everyday that Lewis Hamilton came to a children’s school.

Maeve opened the backseat door and climbed in along with Violet. They looked exhausted, probably from all the running they did during recess.

“How was school?” Lewis asked as he drove away.

“We went to the library today and I got a book. It’s about sports and your face is in it.” Violet said as she got the book out from her backpack.

“Really? What does it say?” Lewis questioned, curious as to what the book said. The girls weren’t really interested in formula 1, so he was confused as to why Violet even checked out the book.

“It says you won seven titles and then i stopped reading because I was bored. I only got it because I wanted to show you and mom that uncle Nico was in the book too.”

His girls always made him laugh. They could brighten up his day even if he was at his lowest. He was such a proud dad too, often bringing up his daughters during interviews and posting pictures of them on instagram. During his Jimmy Kimmel interview, he took any chance he got to talk about his family.

“And do your daughters understand that their dad is a seven time world champion?” Jimmy asked.

Lewis chuckled. “They don’t really care.” He said then the audience, along with Jimmy, laughed. “No, they know what I do for work, but when they were younger they thought I sold cars.”

“You sold cars? How did they come up with that?” Jimmy laughed.

“Their mum explained that I work with cars, that was all, so they assumed I sold cars because at home I have several. Then I think it was the Monaco Grand Prix where they finally got an understanding of what exactly I do. They watched the race and when it was over, I asked them what they thought of it and all I got was ‘I don’t know’ and that’s when my wife said that halfway through the race they asked her for her phone so they could watch their cartoons.” Lewis explained.

He remembers that day clearly. The girls weren’t interested in cars, they rather watch reruns of Gravity Falls. He wasn’t mad either, he was glad that they didn’t get frustrated and start causing chaos around the paddock.

Him mentioning his girls because a regular thing. During press conferences, he was often asked about his girls, more specifically if they would follow his footsteps into the world of F1.

“They don’t even care about the races.” Lewis said as the other drivers bursted out laughing. “My oldest, Maeve, she did have a phase where she liked cars, but she’s transitioned into learning about dinosaurs. She says she wants to be an paleontologist so I don’t have to worry about her.”

“Her birthday is coming up, no?” Max asked. “I’ll buy her one of those fossil kits. I think she’ll love it.”

“And what about your other daughter?”

“She falls asleep every time, I don’t think we will see her racing anytime soon. I’m telling you, they don’t care.” Lewis laughed.

“They don’t care about your world titles?” Charles asked smiling.

“They don’t care! To them, I’m just their dad. They’re like ‘daddy, I need my lemonade now’ it’s kinda funny actually. But I love my girls.”

The Hamilton girls loved their dad to death, it was clear, even if they didn’t care about his world titles or his reputation in F1. He was the best dad to them and that was all they cared about.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lh44 #dad!lewis hamilton

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writingstoraes · 10 months

Text

tour guide 🎥

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!actress!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: saw the post abt apex filming at silverstone this week and got this idea lol lmk what u guys think! atp you already know who my fc is (it's hailee steinfeld 😝)

about: a well-known actress stars in a film that is set in the world of formula 1 and scuderia ferrari happens to be the leading team to guide the production team and its cast!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, madelyncline, and 1,249,247 others

yourusername Film prep starts now. Currently glad my parents forced me into getting my driver's license as early as I could as well as my brother introducing me to Formula 1 years ago 🏁

Beyond excited for this movie!

allhailyn WE LOVE U QUEEN WE CANT WAIT

filmthusiast this is such a new role for her im so excited

f1lover film + f1 is always going to be the biggest bestest combo ❤️

lecsluv LMAOOO NOT CHARLES LIKING THIS

zendayyn mans a fan norrisbaby Oh hes quick 😆

yourusername recently added to her instagram story!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, pierregasly, and 1,482,2058 others

yourusername 3/4 done with filming for First Gear 🤍 So much work has been done for this movie and it's been the good kind of overwhelming so far. I've learned so much and experienced so many new things.

Included the one and only charles_leclerc here because majority of the things I learned came from him. He's pretty nice except he was beyond nervous when I drove the car for the first time.

scuderiaferrari We're glad to know Charles was the best tour guide ever! ❤️

lecsmmylove NOT FERRARI STICKING WITH THE TOUR GUIDE DESCRIPTION???

hamilfilm charles leclerc making his way into y/n's official ig account is not something i have on my bingo card

popgirltay u guys r so cute <3 friendship goals!

livelovelecs no, dating announcement next LOLOL

charles_leclerc Why do I seem like the bad guy here, I taught you pretty well didn't I?

yourusername I didn't say you were a bad teacher 😕

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,102,358 others

charles_leclerc Everyday's karting day 🚘

lecsferrari the red nails??? sir u aint slick who is that

sainzmclaren It's Y/N 😭 She posted karting pics today too

yourusername What do you have to say for yourself that you lost?

charles_leclerc I let you win, jolie 😁 Pretty. ferarrimercs HE CALLED HER PRETTY?????

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, kendall, and 1,395,299 others

yourusername The student has become the teacher 😎

charles_leclerc Anyone would win if they were fighting kids on track

yourusername I sense sore loser 😝

leclercsyn TOO CUTE IM GONNA COMBUST

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya, florencepugh, and 2,034,551 others

yourusername Feeling so emotional that filming for a movie that holds a special place in my heart has come to an end 🤍 I am so ecstatic for all of you to see First Gear because everyone involved put everything they had for this film. I hope you guys love this as much as I do, possibly more.

So many people to thank — the directors, producers, scriptwriters, my co-stars, everyone who's worked so hard to make this into reality, I owe you all so much.

But I also never thought I'd meet someone so special. Charles, this past year for us have been so crazy and I'm glad I got to spend it with you. If it helps, the moment they told me you would be giving me a tour of the paddock, I fell instantly 😝

leclercsyn MY PARENTS AAAAA IM SCREAMING

scuderiaferrari We are so proud of you, Y/N ❤️ The whole team is waiting for the movie!

charles_leclerc What do you mean if it helps, I was literally sweating while telling you what a pitwall is

lecslover HES SO FUNNYHTBHRHB

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, ynleclercs16, pierregasly, and 1,673,992 others

charles_leclerc Most talented person I've come across. Watching you on set has become one of my favorite things to do; it reminds me of just how amazing you are. To more karting sessions with you ❤️

Sincerely,

Your paddock tour guide

lecshamilton hes owning the tour guide title, mad respect

sainzlove I AM MELTINGGGGG

f1luvr power couple me thinks?

yourusername Get ready to lose 🥱

--------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: why i take so much time making these ill never understand anyway i hope u guys like this hehehe thank you sm for reading <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

Note

HII!! CAN U DO A PAVITR PRABHAKAR X READER WHERE THEY SHARE THEIR FIRST KISS (OR READERS FIRST KISS, WHATEVER YOU WANT!!!) AKISISSJSJ IDK WHAT TO REQUEST CAUSE ITS MY FIRST REQUEST LMFAO - 🧑🏽‍🔧

I hope this wasn’t absolute arse as I started like some of this late in the night so there are probs inconsistencies.

‘It’s so obvious that they like each other but due to their assumptions that the other will reject them, they look for the same love in other people, only to be drawn back together because there’s no one who could love them quite like them.’ Pavitr said from your side as you both were indulging in some much needed free time by catching up on episodes of a recent show that you’ve missed. It was a great way to pass the time when nothing else of interest seemed to entice you, plus it was made even better when you got to spend it with Pavitr and his commentary regarding the love interests that you’ve grown to find endearing overtime.

‘We’ve seen this trope happen so many times in the other shows we’ve watched before this.’ You replied, looking over at him, knowing wholeheartedly that you’ve just provoked the preverbal bear, but that didn’t matter as to hear Pavitr speak passionately about something he felt so deeply made you admire him in ways you didn’t know you could.

‘It’s a fail proof formula that wins out every time!’ Pavitr exclaims before sighing dreamily as his mind began to wander amidst his many thoughts, ‘besides who doesn’t want to experience a love like that? a love that your willing to go through trial and tribulation for because you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being by just smiling, by just being unapologetically them in all their flaws.’ Pavitr stopped midway through his speech to smile softly to himself when imagines of you popped in the forefront of his mind, it made him feel nostalgic and in a way it made him miss your presence despite you being right next to him.

Pavitr was a romantic at heart and so too did he naturally speak from it also, but due to the fact that you were just really good friends made him a little hesitant in pursuing you under the pretences that you didn’t feel the same way that he had for while now. Pavitr knew he couldn’t control his heart the moment it began picking up it’s pace within your presence, only to gradually pick up even more with the slightest things you did that he adored or moved in closer proximity to him to the point he thought he was going to pass out; fortunately for Pavitr he didn’t, sitting on elevated structures was dangerous enough but sitting on elevated structures whilst on the verge of potentially passing out wouldn’t have made for a great combination.

Despite experiencing the universal fear of rejection, it never truly stopped Pavitr from being close to you as humanly possible. After all you’re his best friend first and he’d be damned to let his romantic attachment and his fear create a rift between you two, which is why the now tradition of binge watching dramas was created for it gave him the opportunity to spend time with you; being Spider-man was amazing in and of it’s own but what wasn’t amazing was the fact that he wasn’t given as much time with you as he wanted, Mumbattan needed it’s hero but he, Pavitr Prabhakar, not Spider-Man, needed you more.

‘It’s a love many people desire but don’t have willpower to go through with as it tends to possess the ability to overwhelm them and become suffocating but it shouldn’t be that way when you’re in love.’ He explained and you listened intently to every word that fell from his lips that you’ve been transfixed on for the majority of his speech. ‘Love is an all encompassing force that can make you feel a multitude of emotions but you know when a love is right when they make you feel as though you can do anything, be anything, become anything with unbiased judgment. Real love is accepting that they are human and are bound by mistakes, real love is being the others hero but most of all real love is just two souls growing a deeper affection for humanity’s inner beauty.’ He finished, looking at you with a smile.

‘That was beautiful Pavitr.’ You tell him, ‘I know your a sucker for romance but that was especially impassioned,’ you nudged his arm in an act of playful banter despite hearing the sound of your heart breaking over having lost the boy you liked who wasn’t yours to have feelings for because like he said you could never truly give your heart to someone else when they had their name carved into the very essence of your being. ‘So…who’s the lucky person that’s made your heart sing like a canary?’ You mentally applauded yourself for being able to made it through that entire sentence without cracking from under the inevitable heartbreak you were about to experience.

Pavitr, ever the opportunist, saw the chance to admit his hearts deepest desire, sure the setting could’ve been a little better that what he had in mind but Pavitr was willing to work with whatever he was given to his advantage. So he grabbed ahold of your hands and given them a tight, comforting squeeze as he made sure to keep eye contact with you when he said his next words over the sound of his racing heart; ‘it’s you, you taught me how beautifully terrifying love can be when in the face of rejection but once upon a time you told me that it’s better to have tried then to have never have tried at all.’ You did in fact remember telling him that when he once asked you what he should do if he ever developed a crush and wanted to ask them out, which at the time only slightly stung in comparison to the overwhelmingly excruciating pain of self deprivation along with ever other human emotion attacking your sense.

Despite the verbal confirmation, you still were in a state of doubt and insecurity that it made it hard for you to believe the reality of his words no matter how hard your heart was telling you to. ‘Why me though? I’m not that special.’ Is your response and the way Pavitr’s face seemed to drop only made your fears all the more real, here he was bearing his heart out to you in a way that you could’ve only conjured up in your dreams and yet you still had to find some way to ruin it by doubting his genuine feelings. ‘Not that special?’ Pavitr repeated, his upset becoming more evident but it wasn’t in due to you but more so towards the fact that you didn’t hold yourself to the same standard that he did; which was pretty damn high. ‘Not that special?’ He repeats again, ‘you’re more then special! To me, you’re the reason the stars are hung in the sky, you’re the reason flowers bloom, birds sing in the morning and why I awake with a smile upon my face and fresh breath in my lungs. To me you’re the reason for my happiness, for my hope for the future and for my beating heart that quickens upon seeing you.’

Pavitr then went onto prove this point by pulling one of your hands that he has in his grasp towards his chest where you could feel it’s quickened pace branch your fingertips. ‘See?’ He tells you, keeping your hand against his chest, ‘that’s because of you and you still don’t think you’re special when your everything I could ever think about? I miss you when your not here but miss you even more when you are because we’re not as close as I’d like us to be but that’s not something I wish to put upon you if it’s not what your heart desires.’ He finished and you couldn’t help but start to tear up, from his impassioned speech to his unwavering acceptance to the possibility of you not feeling the same, only further proved to you how much of a beautiful soul Pavitr Prabhakar was and how fucking lucky you were to be able to know him as deeply as you did.

There was so much going off inside your head that the only response that you could come up with was; ‘Just kiss me already.’ And within a matter of seconds Pavitr had both hands cupping your cheeks as he leant in and pressed his lips firmly against yours, which had you both smiling giddily at the warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips continued to press and weave against one another in such sweet tandem; that at some points you almost forgot to pull apart for air but when you did remind yourselves that you had lungs that were in desperate need of oxygen. You didn’t dare stray too far from one another as Pavitr pressed his forehead against yours, eyes stilled closed and a dopey, lovey smile gracing his lips.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to top your confession speech but I hope something as simple as this is enough because I like you too Pavitr Prabhakar.’ You whispered against his lips, ‘I like you a lot that when you’d talk about your crush it’d hurt but now knowing what I do now, the brief moment of pain I felt pales in comparison to the light, warm, comforting sensations I get when I’m only with you. For it was all worth this very moment.’ You finished before stealing a cheeky peck from his lips; causing him to whine when you pulled back. ‘No, give me a proper kiss.’ You chuckled but obliged to his requested and gave him a proper kiss to the lips, though this time Pavitr’s hands moved to your waist and your hands took to cupping his cheeks and soon you were back to feeling that lighthearted and warmth place.

#spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv imagine #across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar imagines #pavitr prabhakar imagine #pavitr prabhakar fic #pavitr prabhakar x you

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tommydarlings · 5 months

Text

pairing: dark!rbr!seb x reader

warnings: dark, possessive behaviour

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +60 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Being the girlfriend of a highly talented formula one driver definitely had its perks.

One of them was for an example, always immediately standing front row during the podium ceremony, proudly being able to watch your boyfriend win once again another race.

Next to him, on the second place was Lewis, while alonso got third place, also happily smiling down at the crowd just like your boyfriend, sebastian.

“He did it once again, huh?” Christian Horner, who stood next to you, mumbled in a quiet tone so that only you were able to hear it, making you smile even wider.

You nodded as you continued clapping with a proud grin, “of course he did it once again, he’s sebastian vettel, my sebastian vettel,” you added with a short laugh as you returned your gaze back to the podium, loudly cheering as they gave Lewis his medal, also being happy for him since the two of you are quite good friends.

But Sebastian noticed you clapping and cheering for his rival, making his blood boil, roughly clenching his fists behind his back and bite his inner cheek with a dark gaze before he briefly glanced over to the young Mercedes driver with an evil expression on his face.

An expression that you didn’t catch.

—

“How was the ceremony? As good as every time?” Sebastian asked you as he arrived in his drivers room where you were already waiting for him.

You nodded, “of course! Especially since you’ve done it once again, baby,” you put your arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him but Sebastian quickly threw your arms off of his body and grabbed you by the neck, slamming you with a tiny bit of force against the wall.

You gasped, your eyes widening as he looked down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, the only thing you’ve noticed was how his eyes suddenly darkened.

“So we’re also cheering for the enemies now, huh? Cheering for other men, for the rivals of the only man you should be cheering for in the first place, hmm?” Sebastian tilted his head to the side as he watched how your eyes welled up with tears, making him roll his eyes.

He sighed, squeezing your throat with his big palm, “oh here come the waterworks again, who would have thought,” he muttered deeply as your entire body just shook with fear.

“I-I was only cheering for him b-because he’s my friend Sebastian, you k-know that,” you quickly replied with tears in your eyes, making sebastian furrows his brows.

“Oh?! Because Lewis is your friend, huh?! I see, I see, meine liebe,” my love, the German told you in a harsh but quiet tone before he swiftly put his hand on your chin, forcing your face closer to his.

Sebastian, stood up a bit straighter, making you appear even smaller than you already did, “You keep your goddamn eyes one me, you understand?” He raised his brows.

You gulped before you nodded, not being able to say anything now out of fear,

“I asked you a question and you’ll answer me when I ask you a question,” he squeezed your cheeks, making you gasp,

“Yeah, okay.. I-I understand, s-sebastian,” you innocently nodded along your words, at least as much as his tight grip on your face allowed.

He nodded along with his infamous smirk, “Good,” he whispered deeply, “good girl,” he leaned forward and kissed your forehead,

“Next time I catch you cheering for one of my rivals, I make sure that you’ll regret it, okay?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #seb #sebastian #rbr seb x reader #rbr #rbr f1 #rbr seb #sebastian vettel #red bull sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel fluff #Sebastian vettel angst #rbr!seb x reader smut

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agendabymooner · 7 months

Text

shunt your lovers, kiss your enemies ! jenson b. x ofc (hunt!driver!ofc)

summary: julia james ‘jj’ hunt was the first woman to ever land herself a seat in the formula one grid back in 2000s and jenson button was the person to end that all thanks to his championship celebration and their roller coaster dynamic that started way before they teamed up in brawn gp. OR, thirteen years after her forced retirement jj hunt was blessed with their two children and a fortunate case of rivalry gone right.

content warning: use of explicit language, brief mentions of inappropriate behaviour (harassment) from fans, james hunt daughter!ofc, mentions pregnancy (dad!jenson), enemies/rivals-teammates to lovers, nico rosberg spilling teas, f1 grid banters, peak jenson era mentioned (i’m a slut for him i’m sorry), williams family x ofc (platonic)

note: enjoy the smau in full picture view ❤️

i have a hangover but uh enjoy xx smut masterlist coming soon

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, lewishamilton

williamsracing babe come back the kids miss you 😢

alex_albon i second that 😭 liked by jjhunt

logansargeant was very happy to finally meet you 🥲 liked by jjhunt

user1 did jj just adopt the two williams drivers???

user2 she’s in her first race suit and she took her first car on a ride 😭 i love this sm

landonorris can we all collectively agree that if it wasn’t for jb we’d still have her racing— even in mercedes?? liked by jjhunt

georgerussell63 i’d gladly lose my seat just to have her race 🙏

charles_leclerc i’d give her mine to be honest

oscarpiastri she’d look better in mclaren than he did 🤥

danielricciardo i can’t help but agree— the fact that i’ve never raced with her still baffles me to this day 🙃🙃 liked by jjhunt

user3 lmfaoooo the whole grid’s just bullying jenson as of this point 😭😭😭

user4 he did that to himself 💅🤷‍♀️✨

jensonbutton aren’t i glad that half of these guys are uncles to our children 🙄🙄 liked by jjhunt

jjhunt you could’ve at least let me pull a nicorosberg and given me a child after i win but i guess not 🤷‍♀️

user4 LMAO POOR JENSON 💀

nicorosberg this is why we don’t kiss our enemies, jj 🙄 liked by jjhunt

jjhunt bold of you to assume we only did kissing 😳

nicorosberg didn’t really assume it when i got a firsthand traumatic experience with walking in on you two

user5 NICO STOP TALKING 😩😩

user6 i’m starting to think that the “insiders” the fast lane daily and the race n rumors were referring to was just nico all along 😭😭

user7 someone please tell nico to spill the tea— LIKE WDYM ITS NOT JUST JENSON’S CHAMPIONSHIP CELEBRATION?!

hunt-button kids:

jodie hunt button + julian hunt button

p.s. jenson and jj were called ‘the brawn j²’

394 notes · View notes

silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years

Text

the winner takes it all

The winner takes it all, the loser's standing small Beside the victory, that's her destiny

summary: your first win might just be your greatest loss pairing: charles leclerc x alpine fem!reader (nicknamed fleur) word count: 4.2k warnings: cussing, google translate french, gets a little physical (nothing abusive or concerning), selfish and mean charles, just very angsty and straight up sad. note: no the plot has nothing to do with the abba song, just thought the title and lyrics above fit. this was requested, so i hope i did it some justice! anyways i hope you enjoy this one. ily all.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

“Final lap. Gap between you and Carlos is only 1.3. Keep pushing Fleur.”

The world around you ceases to exist. You forget about the crowds of people watching you, edge of their seats and biting their nails as they wait to see if you can really pull it off. You forget about the other drivers behind you. In this moment, it’s just you behind the wheel, and the streets you grew up on.

She’s gonna do it! For the first time in her career, in her first year in Formula one. L'être aimé, the beloved! There she goes in the Alpine! Y/N Y/LN wins the Monaco Grand Prix!

“That’s P1 Fleur! P1!”

You shriek, tears glossing over your eyes, and your fist flying in the air. Your radio floods with congratulatory remarks, your team expressing how proud they are of you. You did it, you finally fucking won.

You slowly pull in behind the number one. Nothing felt real. Your hands shake as you try pull your steering wheel out of the car, bile from the nerves nearly threatening to come up. The cheers are deafening, the lights blinding. You hop off your car, sprinting towards the sea of blue. You jump into the sea of people, hands patting you back. There are choruses of bravo and bon travail flooding your ears, and you begin to cry. Your engineer, Lucas, gently lowers you to your feet and helps you pull off your helmet.

“You did amazing Fleur. Fucking phenomenal drive!” He cups your cheeks, kissing the top of your head before handing you your helmet and waving you off to enjoy your win.

You turn on your heel, a line of drivers making their way towards you to congratulating. You are tugged left and right into hugs and affectionate pats on the back from your male counterparts, and while you were thankful you can’t help but look for a certain man in red. You fail to find him, even after your interview.

The cool down room is quiet as you wait for Carlos and Max to enter. The race highlights replay on the screen, and you watch as you sip your water. Charles’s red Ferrari flashes on the screen, and you cringe as the replay shows you overtaking him, and then aches as he fails to climb back up for a podium.

“Congratulations pollito,” Carlos greets as he walks into the room, extending his arm to give you a hug.

“Thank you!”

Max walks in shortly after, grinning widely and bidding you a congratulations, ruffling your hair just to annoy you. The boys quickly dive into conversation about the race, and you tune them out. Soon, they are calling you to make your way up to the podiums. The nerves fire up again, hands shaking once more as you walk out and wave to anyone and everyone. Your eyes scan the crowd, looking for your boyfriend once more but failing to spot him. The Monaco anthem blares through the speaker, and your eyes fall shut.

Memories of your karting days flash behind your closed lid. Every turn, scrape, DNF, tear, and smile led you right here. You savor the feeling of standing on the tallest podium, above everyone else. The cool splash of champagne takes you out of your daydream. You laugh loudly, spraying Carlos and Max back before walking to the edge of the stage to spray your team. Charles is no where to be found, and you feel your heart sink. The ceremony doesn’t last much longer, and he never shows his face. You chuck it to interviews and briefings, betting him on seeing him before leaving the paddock tonight. You take one swing from the large bottle before waving goodbye and walking off the stage. Post race interviews and your final meetings of the day go by in a blur. It is almost robotic, how your mouth and body lead you throughout the final parts of the day, your mind far from the track.

You bid goodbye to your team in the lobby of your hotel, promising to see them later in the night at the team party. When the elevator doors shut, you finally go on your phone to answer the multitude of texts and return the tens of missed calls. And when all is said and done, there was still no sign of the Monegasque.

Where are you?

It stung a lot, not hearing from Charles. Your first win, in a city that you both call home and yet all you got from him was radio silence. Every other race, you were always quick to be there for him. Whether it was to celebrate or console, you were always at Charles’s beck and call.

Dating your opponent has always put you in a tough spot, both on an off the track. But you like to believe that’s it’s different with Charles, because being opponents is what brought you two together in the first place. You remember the first time your godfather brought you to the karting track. Your brother’s old suit loosely hung on your shoulders, and your hair was tightly braided out of your face. You remember the way your hands shook, a nervous tick, as you scanned your crowd of competitors. Not a single girl was dressed like you were, not a single one lugging a hand-me-down kart around. You nearly turned around to beg your godfather to take you home, but Charles and his father greeted you. You remember the snoopy brown hair, toothy grin as he held his hand out and said “hi, I’m Charles!” They were the first to acknowledge you and treat just like any other driver. Every race after that, from karting through each formula series, you and Charles remained stuck at the hip. There wasn’t a win you celebrated without each other, or a loss you mourned together.

It was your second year together in Formula 2 where your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. Charles watched you from the second step, standing up with your first ever P1 trophy in the series. His eyes were bright, admiring the glow you emitted in that moment. It was the first time he every saw you as something other than his best friend and rival. He saw the twinkle in your eyes, and how rosy your cheeks got when you smile. He admired how pink your lips are, and the way your race suit seemed to hug you in all the right places. For the first time, he saw you and all the beauty you hold.

And the same could be said for you. You noticed the difference in the way Charles looked at you. You noticed the lingering touches, the flirting, and the excessive time spent together. It wasn’t long until you both confessed that you were smitten, and had begun dating shortly thereafter. And yeah, sometimes things would be difficult between the two of you. You both still disagreed at times, both still manage to blame each other for a wide turn or pushing boundaries. Your love didn’t taint the fiery spirit you both had for the sport. And while the world expected your relationship to crash and burn, the intense passion did the exact opposite.

Talking to engineers. Text you later.

You frown at Charles’s response. It’s unlike him to not acknowledge you like this, to not even say congratulations. You know that this race, his loss, would hit harder than any other one. He had a mission, a goal to achieve. Monaco was a race he had yet to conquer, and today he still managed to fall flat. But still, you would think he would still try to be proud of you. You would do the same for him, if roles were reversed.

Oh. Okay.Team is hosting a party for me at the bar in my hotel. Will you come?

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

Tears sting at your eyes as you toss your phone to the side. Guilt creeps from the back of your mind, and your heart cracks ever so slightly. You try not to let it consume you as you get ready to meet with people who intend to celebrate you. You try to push his stupid green eyes as far back in your mind as you possibly can.

You slip on a white, silk, midi dress. The slit rides high, elongating your legs much more. You fiddle with the flower pendant on your neck, smiling at the memory of Charles’s father gifting it to you when you won your first ever kart race. You’ve had to replace the chain multiple times, but the pretty white peony charm still remains resilient against your skin. There are no texts from Charles when you finally look at your phone and you sigh.

I’m really sorry about today. Don’t worry about coming tonight.Je t’aime, bebe.

Lucas waits for you outside of the bar. He escorts you in, and your heart plummets further into your chest. It should be Charles walking you in. Charles should be here.

You find it hard to celebrate, even with all your other friends showering you in praise and rounds of shot. You decline most of them, chucking it to an early morning the next day. Alcohol doesn’t sound appealing, even with your friends enticing you with expensive liquor and claims that you just have to black out (Daniel’s words). You try to dance, to socialize, but even in the midst of a party celebrating you, your mind was still miles away. Your attention flickers from your phone to the front door, just hoping that Charles would do just about anything. But alas, the night ends and you still receive nothing from your boyfriend.

You bid everyone goodnight, letting Lucas know that you will be driving to Ferrari’s hotel to drop a fairly drunk Carlos and to go see Charles. The drive there is calm, Carlos’s drunk ramblings filling the space. He goes on and on about how proud of you he is, and that he knew your win was coming. You follow him all the way to his door, where you wish him goodnight and then make your way to Charles’s room. You tap his door twice with your knuckles. There is very little movement on the other side, and soon the door handle jiggles as he yanks the door open to reveal a very tired Monegasque boy. His eyes are puffy, surrounded by darkness. The usual vibrant green is dulled out with sadness. He frowns at you.

“Why are you here?”

It’s your turn to frown, “I wanted to see you.”

He lets out a sigh, stepping aside to let you in. Each step you take feels heavier and heavier. It’s almost as if you are dragging cinderblocks behind you. Charles shuts the door as you sit on his bed, slowly undoing the straps of your heels. Your boyfriend kneels before you, moving your hand gently so that he can continue undoing the straps and taking off your shoes. His soft movements make you feel hopeful, reassures you for just a moment. But then he looks up at you, and you watch as the life leaves his eyes. He almost looks resentful, but he gets up and walks to his luggage before you can analyze him further.

“I don’t want to talk tonight, Fleur. Let’s just sleep.”

You nod, watching as he hands you a shirt for you to change into. You retreat to the bathroom, and as soon as you lock the door your eyes flood with tears. Your hand clamps over your mouth as you try to muffle your sobs, knees buckling to touch the floor. You aren’t sure how long you sit there on his bathroom floor, heart breaking piece by piece as your win eats away at you. The way he looks at you, dismisses you even after his affectionate gesture makes you feel small. You finally muster the strength to stand, your disheveled reflection taunting you. Your make up is smeared and streaky, face blotchy. You looked so sad. Slowly, you slide the white silk off your body and replace it with the grey t-shirt that falls to your mid thigh. There you stand, draped in Charles once more.

When you walk out of the bathroom, the lights are already off and Charles is snoring softly. You look at him sleeping peacefully, one arm outstretched waiting for your warmth. The warm bathroom light illuminates the room, falls over his pale skin delicately. He looks peaceful. You flick the switch off, darkness engulfing the space. You find your place in his arms, and like clockwork, he wraps them around you and holds you close.

You don’t sleep that night. The slow cadence of Charles’s breathing doesn’t lull you to sleep like it normally does. Your mind torments you, your sadness turning to anger as the room slowly begins to glow orange. The sun rises, and soon it is pouring harshly into the hotel room. Charles’s alarm goes off, and the boy is quick to turn over and turn it off. You turn over to lay on your back as your boyfriend slips off the bed and going to grab a glass of water.

“I’m gonna go.” You mutter, pushing yourself off the bed and going to gather your stuff. You don’t notice the perplexed look on Charles’s face as he watches you get ready to leave.

“Oh… but it’s so early.” You hum in agreement, refusing to look at him in fear that you might start crying again.

“Yeah. Bye Charles.”

You nearly escape, but your boyfriend is quick to grab you. He cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. His green eyes dart left to right, up and down, trying to read you. He can sense your sadness, the tinge of disappointment as you look up at him. Charles doesn’t say anything, just looking at you with a furrowed brow and wide eyes in hopes that it would be enough for you to stay. Tears begin to brim at your eyes, and you pry away from his calloused hands.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?!” Your stuff falls in disarray around you, long forgotten as your vision turns red. “Why do you look at me like that? Like I owe you something?”

Charles’s is taken aback by your sudden outburst. “What do you mean?”

You scoff, “You so badly want to forget about yesterday, you fail to acknowledge me and my accomplishments. Fail to acknowledge me and my win.” You watch as his face falls, the way he is quick to shake his head and turn away from you. “What now Charles?”

“Maybe you should go. I don’t want to argue right now.” Charles mumbles, picking through his luggage.

“Why won’t you say it?” Your voice is soft, meek, small. “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

Charles goes rigid, shoulders tense as he hears your sad voice bounce off the walls. “What do you want me to say Fleur?”

“That you’re proud of me? That you’re happy for me?” You take long strides, tiny hands gripping his bicep to turn him around. “I want you to look at me and at least fucking say ‘congratulations Fleur.’” He yanks his arm from your grip and walks around you. “Why can’t you fucking say it Charles? Why can’t you fucking say anything?!”

“Because then I’d be lying!” He turns around to scream his harsh words to your face. He’s panting, face beet red. You’ve never seen him look so angry, you would be afraid if you weren’t equally as furious in that moment. “Because I’m not happy for you. I can’t fucking say congratulations and that I’m happy for you without wanting to throw up!”

Hot tears stream down your face as you stare at the man you love, “You’re a prick.” The boy’s nostrils flare up, but he stays quiet. “How can you be so selfish?”

“This was my home race, if there was a year for me to do it, it should’ve been this year. It should’ve been yesterday.”

“Well it’s my home race too, Charles. I grew up on these streets, went to school not too far from here, lived just up the road. Monaco is my home too.”

“It’s different.”

“Different?!” You say loudly, “Why? Because you’re a championship contender and I’m not? Because you’re some hot shot in a Ferrari?”

“Shut up Fleur.” He says under his breath. You close the distance between you two and you crane your neck to meet his eyes.

“Why is it different Charles? Why is my win not worth a damn thing to you?”

“Because it’s not mine! It’s not important, it doesn’t affect it me! It’s small, minuscule, and is even furthermore one of the reasons I lost.”

Your body reacts before your brain can, and your hand flies across to slap him in the face. “Do not blame me for your poor results yesterday.” You point your index finger, “And do not chuck one of my biggest accomplishments on your list of excuses for your team’s crap execution.”

“I look at you and see my loss, my fucking failure. I see one of the worst moments of my life.” Charles turns away from you once more, going for the front door and effectively slamming it in your face.

You’ve never been so angry with him. After nearly two decades of racing against each other you never thought you would find yourself in this position. He’s normally happy for you, excited for you, the first one to sweep you off your feet to say just how proud he is of you. And though he might have more victories under his belt than you, the wins never got in the way of your relationship the way that it has today.

You locked yourself in your apartment after leaving Charles’s hotel room, letting your team know that you’d like some space for your little break. You ignored all the phone calls, every text, and stayed bundled up on your couch. When the anger subsided after your conversation with Charles, you were a mess of tears. How you managed to sneak out of the hotel, to your car, and back to yours unseen is a miracle. But you were thankful.

And so now you sit alone, in the confines of your home with only The Great British Baking Show playing in the background. You felt like a zombie. The sadness and anger you felt was all too consuming, too much for you. His harsh words play in your head, over and over again. I see one of the worst moments of your life. It sends a shiver down your spine when you think of the resentment in his green eyes, or the anger laced in his tone. For the briefest of moments, he had become someone unfamiliar to you. He was no longer the man you love.

Your phone chimes, and you recognize it to be Charles’s ring tone. You’re ashamed of how quickly you scoop your phone into your hands to see what he says.

Can we talk?I can come over to yours if you don’t want to walk over to mine.

You nibble your lip in contemplation, weighing your options and wondering if a day and a half of space is enough for you to think clearly. Is it enough time for you to know that you’ll be able to stand you ground? That you won’t melt into his arms and let him string you along with his excuses?

Okay. Just let yourself in.

You do your best to tidy the space, and isn’t long until you hear the doorknob jiggle and the front door open. You sit yourself at the dining table, looking out the window and over your city. You can hear the soft pit pat of Charles’s feet as he pads over to you, pulling out the chair across you to take a seat. It’s quiet, and you don’t look at him in fear that you might start crying again.

“Fleur…” Your eyes fall shut at his voice. It is quiet, thick with nerves. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally open your eyes, turning to look at him. “For what?”

“For the words I said, for not being there for your first ever win in Formula 1. I’m sorry for everything mon amour.”

Mon amour. My love. The words pick at the pieces of your heart. You feel sick to your stomach.

“You hurt me,” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.” Charles reaches across the table to take your hands, squeezing them softly in his own. “Please let me make it up to you.”

He’s genuine. He means the words he says. You can see it in his eyes, they’re the most telling part of him. He looks at you like the world is about to crumble beneath him, and still you can’t find it in you to let him in. No part of you wants to melt into him, to allow him to kiss it better and make you forget. Because you know deep down you never will.

That’s the worst part about all of this, you realize. There is no apology that could ever make you forget about the cruel things he said to you. No amount of sorries or flowers or kisses could ever ice the burn of his harsh words. You know that no matter what, when you look at Charles, you would remember that for a moment he loathed you.

“Charles… I think we need to break up.”

There is ringing in your ears when the words tumble out of your mouth. You don’t notice the way his face falls, how quickly he drops your hands, or the way he stands from his seat to kneel in front of you. You barely hear his pleas, his promises that it will never happen again. It isn’t until you feel his hot tears, falling onto your lap, does the world begin to move quickly.

“Fleur, please. I’m so so sorry. It won’t happen again just please, please don’t let this end.”

“Charles, you don’t know that.” You cup his cheeks, forcing him to look up at you. They are red, filled with tears, sad because you have just ripped his heart out of his chest.

“Yes, I do.”

“Charles no you don’t.”

“Mon amour please… I love you.” His voice breaks as he says those three words. Tears stream down his face quickly, his grip on your hands tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” You whisper, choking back your tears, “I know and I forgive you. But Charles, I will never forget those words. I will never forget that for just a moment in time you looked at me as someone who contributed to your failure. For the first time, I wasn’t your safe space.” He shakes his head, but you nod. Tears sting your eyes, and you swallow the knot in your throat as you continue. “I love you Charles. You have to believe that I do.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s what’s best for us. Because I don’t want this competition to be the reason we learn to resent each other.” You swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb, “Charles, I don’t want to lose you forever. I don’t want to the nearly twenty years of love and friendship, to be tainted by our hunger in this sport.”

“It won’t be. Fleur, you have to believe that it won’t.”

“But it already has.”

You can’t hold back the cries any more. The two of you stay like that for a moment, mourning the loss of the greatest thing you both have experienced. You mourn the loss of a love no longer pure, but ruined by passion and drive. You mourn the loss of innocence, of pure and utter bliss. For a moment, you mourn the loss of one another.

“I need to go.” Charles finally says. “I need… I need to be away.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He stands up, gathering his things. Charles looks down at his keys, and with shakes fingers, removes your house key from his set. He places the gold thing in your hands, and you look at each other one last time.

“Peut-être un jour. Peut-être qu'un jour nous serons à nouveau bons l'un pour l’autre.” Maybe one day. Maybe one day we will be good for each other again.

You smile sadly, nodding. “Peut-être.” Maybe.

Without a thought, you wrap your arms around him one more time. His arms snake around your waist, holding you close. It is safe, warm. In time, it will all be alright. You believe that it will be.

Several days later, there is a knock on your door. And when you open there is a vase of white peonies sitting on your doorstep, with a note neatly tucked in the bouquet. You carry it into your home, setting it down and plucking at the cream envelope to read it.

𝙼𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚛,

𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜, 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc angst #wtia

2K notes · View notes

vettelinyourarea · 11 months

Note

Hi hi hi there! I absolutely adore your works can you make one for Oscar Piastri + If by chance by Ruth B? Thanks and have a good day!!!!

If by Chance - Oscar Piastri

genre: angst?? the ending is fluffy though

word count: 1,178

inspired by if by chance by ruth b

warning: english is not my first language

thank you so much anon for your kind words and for the request! i am so sorry if this took quite a while. i know if by chance is supposed to be angst but i kinda make it fluff for the ending and i hope it's okay with you <33

enjoy!!

I can't believe it's been all these years

I can't believe I've cried all these tears

My friends tell me I should've moved on

A long, long time ago

But what do they know?

Mm, what do they know?

It's been two years now since you last saw Oscar, your ex-boyfriend who also happened to be your first love. All those years apart don't make it easier for you to forget about him. You knew breaking up with someone on good terms was always the hardest, but you never knew that you would suffer from it.

Two years ago, you broke up with Oscar and successfully stayed friends with him for a couple of months until it was too much for you. You were seeing him on Instagram, living his life as a racing driver, winning his Formula 2 championship. You want to be happy for him, you do, but it all just seems impossible. It hurts you to see him win the championship without you, signs with McLaren without you, having to go through the problems he had with Alpine without you.

You knew you were being selfish, and you knew that you had to move on, but what can you do when after all these years, he still treats you like he used to?

And I don't mean to be selfish

But my heart breaks every time

That I see you smile

'Cause I know that it's not me

Who brings it out of you anymore

When you first see the picture on Instagram, you can't help yourself but cry. Oscar and his new girlfriend just made it public about their relationship, and it's all over your social media feed. You feel sick seeing the pictures, but you know it is going to happen eventually. You knew that you should've moved on a long time ago, just like Oscar did. But you can't. Seeing him smile so brightly as he used to at someone that's not you makes your heart shatter to pieces. Seeing him looking at someone else with so much love like he used to look at you, makes you cry even more.

Your friends said that you're being dramatic, that you're being stupid, that you should have moved on from him by now. But what can you do?

You found somebody new

You put me in the past

I don't even know if our memories will last

But If By Chance it doesn't work out with her

You'll always have a chance with me in my world

"Hey, how are you?" he asked, surprising you. It was June, winter in Australia, and for once, you finally joined friends going out at night. This wasn't supposed to happen. Oscar wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't even supposed to be in Australia.

"Hey, I'm good. How are you?" you replied, trying your best to keep your composure, to not run out the door as fast as you could. Tonight was supposed to be a girl's night out where you're meant to realize that being in love with Oscar is stupid, where you're meant to meet a new guy, get laid, or something along the line. Definitely not this.

"I'm good!" he replied with a huge smile on his face, sitting on a barstool next to you. You knew this was supposed to be the time when you left him, where you joined your friends dancing on the dance floor. But you can't. It feels like you're stuck in your seat, stuck to see Oscar's stupid beautiful smile that makes your stupid heart race. "Are you with anyone else?" he asked after ordering himself a drink.

"Oh yeah, just with a couple of friends," you said, trying to be nonchalant, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating uncontrollably. "What about you? Are you with anyone else?" you asked after taking a sip from your drink.

"Oh yeah, just with my girlfriend,"

And that's the moment your heart seems to be destroyed.

Is it so wrong of me to hope she breaks your heart?

Is it so wrong of me to pray she tears you apart?

And I know that in the darkest part of you

You pray and hope and wish for it too

'Cause you don't mean to be selfish

But your heart breaks every time

Here you are, still at the same bar 6 years later after you met Oscar for the first and last time after you broke up. And he's also there, at the same spot six years ago where he destroyed your heart that night. But it's different now. You're here with Oscar as his fiancee.

"What are you thinking about, huh?" he asked you, breaking you from your train of thought. You just smiled, looking down at your drink, a little bit ashamed to tell him the truth. "Tell me, please?" he said while leaning down to meet your eyes.

"I was wondering the night where we met again after our break up if we would ever happen again. If it's possible to have you again as the love of my life," you said with a low voice, afraid that he would laugh at you. But when you're met with silence, you continue. "I was secretly hoping that night that you would be back again for me."

It was silent for a couple of seconds before you felt a pair of hands on your cheeks, and your lips were met with his. "I'm here now. Sorry for taking so long to realize that you're the one I want with me," he said with a sweet smile. "I'm sorry that it took another person in my life to make me realize that you're the love of my life."

You can't help but chuckle at that. You remember the first time his now ex-girlfriend reached out to you how she said that Oscar is secretly still in love with you and is too scared to make a move again, that she broke up with him and has decided to help him get back with you. "It's okay, she's the one who helped us get back together, and now I have a new best friend because of you!" you said.

It is true that you are now best friends with his ex, that you're now her daughter's godmother. "Well, I'm glad that it all worked out in the end. You have a new best friend, we got back together, and we also have a goddaughter," he said, looking at you adoringly as you laughed.

It all feels so surreal for him and you how fate seems to be working in the worst way possible but have the best result. The past didn't matter to the two of you. It worked out in the end just how you wanted it.

"I love you," you said to him.

"I love you too, and I can't wait to marry you and be with you for the rest of my life."

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chibrary · 1 year

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source: sportweek format: interview season: 2021, f2

What was your relationship like before you met at Ferrari, and how is it changing?

LECLERC: "I didn't know Carlos very well, because we had little time to hang out. One evening, in Singapore, he was watching the circuit from the swimming pool on top of the Marina Bay Sand skyscraper and I was there too, so we started talking. Now, the relationship is getting stronger and stronger. We share similar ages and interests, we laugh a lot together and we get along really well."

SAINZ: "I had followed Charles in Formula 2, for his talent, but the first real conversation we had was in Singapore in 2018, when he arrived in Formula 1. From there the relationship got closer also because I I started asking him a lot of questions about Ferrari every time I met him".

What did you discover about your teammate that you never expected?

L: "Perhaps the fact that you speak Italian so well".

S: "I was surprised that he has an artist's disposition. He likes painting, music, playing the piano. All uncommon passions for a driver".

What do you usually joke about?

L: "Overall, like two ordinary guys. We don't just talk about the races, but also about our life, about what happens to us every day. We have a lot of fun".

S: "We spend a lot of time together, even when we eat or do interviews, so we have moments for joking. We laugh a lot. Otherwise it would be boring".

Who is better at cooking?

L: "Him. We recently decided to organize a dinner first at his house and then at mine. The menu he proposed seemed interesting, while mine was pasta in white sauce".

S: "I'm not a great chef, but certainly better than Charles…".

[Rough translation of full interview below]

The red house has a new tenant: Carlos Sainz, son of a rally legend. He and Charles Leclerc-- who took the keys to Maranello from former captain Sebastian Vettel-- form the second youngest Ferrari couple in history after Jacky Ickx and Chris Amon (1968). They arrive at the start of the F1 World Championship in Bahrain full of expectations and hopes, with the same book in their suitcase: My terrible joys, the biography of Enzo Ferrari. Because there is no future without the past.

What was your relationship like before you met at Ferrari, and how is it changing?

What did you discover about your teammate that you never expected?

L: "Perhaps the fact that you speak Italian so well".

S: "I was surprised that he has an artist's disposition. He likes painting, music, playing the piano. All uncommon passions for a driver".

Carlos/Charles' best driving skill?

L: "Consistency, it's very continuous."

S: "The speed, he's very strong in qualifying and in the race, managing to take the car to the limit".

Will it be tough to beat him?

L: "Sure. Carlos is a very strong driver and so far he hasn't had the winning car to prove it. I expect him too to fight for victories when we have the right car".

S: "Especially at the beginning, I will face a very difficult challenge. Charles knows the team better than me and is perhaps the most talented rider on the grid. But I will stay calm and give myself some time to reach his level with the Ferrari".

If there was a misunderstanding between you in the races, how would you react?

L: "It can always happen, but I have the ability to distinguish between the race and what happens outside. I am convinced that Carlos is very similar to me in this respect. So, if there is some misunderstanding, we'll talk about it frankly. Considering our relationship, we won't have any problems."

S: "It depends on the situation. Usually there is always one driver who is more to blame than the other. I hope we will be mature enough to admit it, if it happens. But I think we will not get to that point. We are clear that the priority is to report Ferrari up above, not our personal battles".

What can two young people give to Ferrari?

L: "Motivation first of all, we want to do our best and everyone in the factory has seen this. In addition, we work well together by directing our efforts in the same direction, there is a continuous exchange of information and the needs are the same. The team , therefore, knows exactly where to focus".

S: "We are motivated by the desire to bring Ferrari back to winning ways, a drive that few drivers have. I feel that the team is already on the right path. Furthermore, we are not in a hurry, as can happen to more mature drivers".

What do you usually joke about?

L: "Overall, like two ordinary guys. We don't just talk about the races, but also about our life, about what happens to us every day. We have a lot of fun".

S: "We spend a lot of time together, even when we eat or do interviews, so we have moments for joking. We laugh a lot. Otherwise it would be boring".

Who speaks Italian better?

L: "Carlos told me that I have to teach him some vocabulary. But he stands up to me."

S: "Sometimes I understand some words, similar to the Spanish ones, which instead escape him. But Charles has a higher level than mine".

Who is better at cooking?

L: "Him. We recently decided to organize a dinner first at his house and then at mine. The menu he proposed seemed interesting, while mine was pasta in white sauce".

S: "I'm not a great chef, but certainly better than Charles…".

Who is better working with the engineers?

L: "We have different ways of describing the sensations in the car, but we both try hard."

S: "I apply myself a lot, I'm hard to beat in this, all my teammates have always admitted it".

How important is the family?

L: "When you arrive in Formula 1 you become a magnet, a lot of people approach you for reasons of interest and not because they appreciate you as a person. It's essential to have solid foundations. Therefore family is very important, like the friends you've known since childhood".

S: "Most important of all. Knowing that my loved ones are well, healthy, makes me calm".

The love?

L: "Equally important. I have a girlfriend, I'm fine with her. Sometimes you need to disconnect from motorsport and have someone you're happy with next to you".

S: "One can be happy in life even without love. But better with…".

Money?

L: "It's important for everyone, but it doesn't make you happy. I do this sport because I like driving, for the thrill of winning, not for the money".

S: "Having it is better than not having it, but money doesn't bring happiness."

Victory?

L: "That's what made me fall in love with motor racing. I couldn't live without competition, in whatever I do. I grew up like this, with the desire to always compare myself with others. Therefore, winning is the best".

S: "Very important, perhaps even too much."

Biggest person out of racing?

L: "My mom".

S: "My father Carlos, without him it would have been much more difficult to get here."

What do you think of Stefano Domenicali's idea that he would like pilots as role models for young people?

L: "That's right. We have pursued a passion from an early age and worked to achieve goals: our example can serve to show young people that they too can do it. We are normal people who have managed to live their dream".

S: "I completely agree, especially now that ten-year-olds follow you on Instagram and on social media. Everything you say and do can influence them, so it's important to set correct examples".

Is the salary cap for pilots right or wrong?

L: "We'll talk about it between the FIA and the drivers".

S: "Wrong."

What did you know about Ferrari before arriving in Maranello?

L: "I lived Ferrari as a passion, but I didn't know the history of the brand, there was simply something magical around this name. For me, it has always been the Red Machine. In my wildest fantasies, the team for which I wanted to drive one day was always Ferrari".

S: "I knew everything about the last twenty years, a little less about past history. Now I'm reading the biography of Enzo Ferrari: it was given to me by the president John Elkann, who I asked to show me a book about him".

Would you have liked to meet Ferrari?

L: "Very much. I'm reading his biography too, right now, and I consider him a figure to inspire for many reasons".

S: "Who wouldn't like it? I'm struck by the fact that Ferrari represents Italy. When you join this team, you're racing for an entire nation. It's like playing football and wearing the Spanish national team shirt. Responsibilities and l 'pride".

Which part of the Maranello factory fascinates you the most?

L: "Enzo Ferrari's house inside the Fiorano circuit. One day Carlos and I met in his office and we began to imagine the scenes: "Look, this is where he signed some important contracts...". Thinking this fascinates me so much."

S: "I like the gym, it's the place where I can find my moments of peace, to recover mentally after hard days driving the simulator".

Which of the Ferrari drivers of the past excites you the most between Lauda, Villeneuve, Schumacher or others?

L: "Michael, for all the triumphs he has obtained and for his ability to drag the team along. Gilles, for the madness of certain maneuvers he did on the track with which he gave emotions".

S: "I could say Lauda, Schumacher or Alonso. Instead I say Villeneuve, less known by the general public".

What type is Mattia Binotto?

L: "At first he's reserved, but then he opens up more and more and now we have a very good relationship, where we can be honest, an attitude that helps the team".

S: "I got on well with him from the first minute, he's easy to work with. He seems to me a leader with an ambition and a project that will soon bear fruit".

A goal for this year?

L: "Doing the best possible every time I get in the car. After the first race we will know where we are compared to the rivals".

S: "To take a good step forward, it must be a better season than 2020. I would like the fans to regain faith in Ferrari and believe in us".

Can Ferrari win again in 2022 with the new rules?

L: "I think it's an opportunity for us, or rather an opportunity, to win again."

S: "Why not? I think so. We need more years to become a dominant team, but returning to victory can happen even sooner, above all because 2022 will be a strange year for everyone and we will start from scratch. When was the last change of regulation, in 2017, Ferrari started with the fastest car. I believe in this team".

What would you like to achieve with Ferrari?

L: "I would like to win a world championship. It was already a special milestone when I arrived in Maranello, but succeeding after going through these difficult years would be even more valuable and would give us more satisfaction".

S: "I would like to stay in Maranello for many years. Obviously, Ferrari is in a hurry to get back to winning ways, and we want it to happen as soon as possible, but I have the patience to work in perspective to bring the red back to success".

#format:interview #series:f1 #year:2021 #driver:carlos

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angsthology · 4 months

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☾ intro to jupiter nightshade (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

-> series masterlist

Jupiter Nightshade.

How do you even begin to describe her?

Jupiter was everyone’s dreams and everyone’s nightmare.

You love Jupiter, you hate her, you admire her, you’re terrified of her, you want to be her, you want to be with her.

Some people even say that she’s a real daughter of the sky — others even dared say she is the God Jupiter of the sky.

But those were just rumors, probably.

Hard not to believe those when the woman looked like she belongs in a museum of fine art. Models envy her, they kiss the ground she walks on and thank whatever higher power that she decided to join the world of motorsports. She would render them all jobless if modelling was her actual career rather than it being an occasional obligation.

The gods really took their time with her. Dark, jet-black hair cascades down her back — she never really keeps it long, she had to wear layers a lot and she was not a fan of the itch and heat restrictions it gave her so she always opted for a short messy haircut. Her skin glowed olive, under the sun, it often looked like she was made of part-gold. But, oh, dio mio!—as she would say—her eyes, her eyes; they’re the magnet to all that is deserving, they’re blessed to those lucky enough to have been even looked upon with those eyes. Both a piercing shade of emerald green—only, here’s the twist, the drop of uniqueness to it; her left eye was split into two between the striking green and a soft brown.

Call it dramatic but what I say doesn’t stray far from the truth.

That was her looks. I can’t even begin to describe the talent, the spirit she possesses.

“THAT’S P1, KID! P1 ON YOUR FIRST RACE!” her engineer yelled in her radio, his words coming out of his mouth along with breaths of disbelief.

The racer hadn’t even heard a word he said, she was far too busy taking in the glory of the shock coming from the stands. There were occasional boos of course, but of course that doesn’t begin to beat the cheers coming for her. The rookie.

She was on a high, one she has never felt before. Not even when she was named F2 champion or any other race she’s won before. Formula One was a new kind of glory for her and boy she was already hungry for more.

That hunger? Never went away for the rest of her rookie season. Jupiter Nightshade was a mad woman and that made everyone (all the good ones anyway) fall in love with her.

God, she could never be full of the glory. Every moment she managed to get more it only makes her even hungrier for more.

“JUPITER NIGHTSHADE YOU ARE A GOD!” the energetic yells of her team principal boomed through her radio, almost making her flinch.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” she said smugly.

Ugh, what a smug little shit.

I still think she’s cool or whatever.

Think what you want to think about Jupiter Nightshade but everyone can always agree that she’s full of surprises.

Really, she didn’t know where it came from. One second she was kissing her winning trophy while perched up on the second and third driver’s shoulders, the next; champagne was everywhere and she was in the air — mouthful of champagne, (she’s young, she’s free, and most importantly, she was a winner. She thought.) she sprayed the liquid that was already in her mouth to the P2 holder, completely surprising them—not that they’re mad or anything about it, they were just taken by surprise by it and let it happen. Then she turned to the lucky three with a smirk on her face; the man was quick to try and duck away but she was faster than that (on-track, off-track, there isn’t much difference between her), spraying right into his face.

And, really, that was how it started.

It was… an interesting, but hot nonetheless—according to the Twitter sapphics anyway. (They’re right.)

But being one of the greatest always came with its negatives — worse when you’re a woman.

She was the world champion.

She was a rookie driver in a Renault with a world champion.

And yet… they are boo-ing her.

On the internet, anyway.

Which makes it even better. If they’re not brave enough (or, rich enough to even attend a Grand Prix) to say it to her face, what real value do their words even have?

But for now, she can only accept her first domination under the building lightning storm in the sky.

And hence, born was her first nickname—and I’m not talking about the world driver’s champion—no; from then on, the daughter of the sky was born.

What a scam! — 2019 spat out, Jupiter was called the rookie with immense beginners luck.

Cunt. She thought.

The media that once ridiculed her then acted as if they never doubted her a day in their life was once again turning their back on them.

Typical, she thought. Fame-hungry-worthless-losers with no sense of wording in their body whatsoever.

When asked about it, her answer was simple; the only answer she had given to the world that retched year:

“The car is finally realizing who’s driving it and just couldn’t keep up.”

Renault was angry.

How. Dare. She.

They gave her an F1 car for the first time in her career, they catered her to a championship in it, and this is how she repays them?

At that, she rolls her eyes, “What, like I’m wrong?”

You make a car that accommodates a champion’s needs, you get a champion.

Nightshade is not for the weak.

So when she made her move to Red Bull in 2020 many was not surprised — ‘it’s been a long time coming.’ (I know right, why didn’t she do it sooner?) — ‘of course, she did.’ (the fuck you mean by that?) — ‘oh, great, more overconfident Red Bull drivers, just what we need.’ (damn, right it’s what we need.) — and my personal favorite: ‘was she not already in Red Bull?’ (oh they wished they had hired her sooner.)

By the time her third WDC came around, people have already treated her like an evil dictator taking over Formula One.

The internet (and, Netflix too probably) have successfully painted over her spirit turning her into this soul-sucking, dream-stealing, non-caring of others’ well-being person.

Everyone was suddenly far too busy looking for her faults; everyone.

Did they care that she’s a woman dominating in a male-dominated sport? Not anymore (they miss having their favorite white man win.)

Did they even bother caring about who she was doing this for? (No, why should they? She’s not of any relevance.)

Did they even bother opening their eyes to the fact that Jupiter Nightshade is a good person.

To look past her brash personality, interesting habits, and behavior and just see her for what she stands for, to what she is proving; that how the media—the world treats her gender unfairly when the opposite can do the exact same thing (hell, sometimes even worse) and not be bashed as much as she was getting.

They can say what they want about her but she’ll be the one hearing “You are the world champion!” in her ears at the end of the season.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke (no one was surprised) + ask to be added 🥳

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x original character #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female character #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 x oc #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x you #tine’s the big three #f1 x original character

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astonmartingf · 2 months

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LICENSE TO DRIVE . . . 🏁🏎️🍒

DRIVER PROFILE . . .

NAME: Katarina Anneli Lombardi

BIRTHDAY: September 14, 1997

NATIONALITY: Finnish-Italian

BLOOD TYPE: B-

CAR NUMBER: 41

WINS: 26

PODIUMS: 78

CAREER POINTS: 2193 points

POLE POSITIONS: 53

FIRST ENTRY: 2016 Australian Grand Prix

FIRST WIN: 2017 Russian Grand Prix

LAST ENTRY: 2024 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

CURRENT TEAM: Porsche F1 Racing

★ KATARINA ANNELI LOMBARDI

The drivers mostly call her by her first name or shortening it to "Kat" with a few exceptions such as, Lewis calling her "Anneli", Kimi calls her a Finnish endearment, Max and Charles also use a nickname for her.

Often associated as a trio with Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc, both are racing drivers of the same age as her. And is often the glue for the three of them, as Max and Charles often fought back in their karting days.

In the infamous Max "He pushed me off the track." Verstappen and Charles "It's just an incident." Leclerc, Karina was asked to react about them and she said, "I don't mind. The longer they fight, the more I'm winning."

She's known as the "Second Driver" as she often takes the position of the second driver in both of the teams she joined, but also the unit of time second due to her timing in transfers and changing teams in Formula One.

Spend her off days in F1 in Lombardy, Italy's northern region where she lived her whole life. And is the middle child in her family, having an older brother and younger brother.

Actively supports F1 Academy, watches their races often visiting the younger drivers and meeting up with them if her schedule is free.

Claims Liam Lawson as her grid kid after he raced in RB, and has a soft attachment towards him, especially now as teammates.

Other grid kids are Mick Schumacher, Kimi Antonelli, and the F1 Academy Grid.

#f1 driver oc #f1 female driver #f1 x oc #formula one oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc

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fcb-mv33 · 7 months

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Erik van Haren, De Telegraaf, Netherlands: “Max’s qualities as a driver are beyond dispute. Just look at his consistent performance curve and the way he always challenges himself, every weekend. What I also like about him as a reporter is that as a person he is broadly the same as the 16-year-old boy I interviewed for the first time in early 2014. He is not afraid to give his opinion and really stands for something. Especially in these times, with all the reactions on social media, I really appreciate that.”

Mervi Kallio, Viaplay, Finland: “The dominance of Max Verstappen this season has been amazing. He has had the best car of the grid but he has also operated in such a great level. He is mentally so strong and the self confidence that he reflects shows that nothing can stop him. Verstappen could be a Finn – less talking, more driving. He is truly a legend already.”

Nate Saunders, ESPN, US: “Max Verstappen has been so remarkable this year. One of his standout traits is how unbothered he seems by his own greatness – at points this year it’s been as if he hasn’t really understood what all the fuss is about. Verstappen has grown into such a well-rounded driver – aggressive when he needs to be, patient at others, which hasn’t always been the case. A driver so confident in his abilities, matched with Red Bull’s car, and you have the unstoppable force we’ve seen all year.”

Ben Hunt, The Sun, UK: “There are so many highlights to pick from this season for Max but for me, the performances that have largely gone unnoticed have been in qualifying. There is a trend in the media of labelling any pole lap ‘a mega' – but his final attempt in Monaco really was. He was on the limit in the final sector around the Swimming Pool and Rascasse, hitting the barriers on two occasions, and just managed to pip Fernando Alonso. It was brilliant, edge-of-the-seat stuff.”

Mariana Becker, Rede Bandeirantes, Brazil: “When Max adopted the middle path to his emotions as a more mature road to follow in life, he made my life difficult. In his interviews, triumph is not golden, defeat is not death. Through my Brazilian eyes, it was hard to detect any sense of extra pride about his recovery from 15th to 2nd position in the grid in Miami, his unbelievable pole in Monaco, his 10 consecutive victories… For him, there is no need to overstate the obvious. But in this case, ‘Max’ is no overstatement.”

Julien Billiotte, Autohebdo, France: “Max is a genius and has been among the all-time greats in my book for a long time. Besides the obvious, I like his off-track persona, especially the way he is not afraid to speak his mind all the while remaining a fairly approachable, down-to-earth guy. Of course, Verstappen is no longer the grid’s ‘enfant terrible’. He has grown more statesman-like but you can’t help but feel an aura of contained aggressiveness around him. The newly-crowned triple world champion always makes you think twice before asking what could be a silly question. His sharp mind and quick wit won’t miss a beat and you will soon find yourself a bit rattled. Like all the top athletes, Max forces you to raise your game.”

Frankie Mao, Formula Vision, China: “I remember the first interview with him on a quiet Wednesday afternoon ahead of the 2015 Chinese GP. I was genuinely impressed by how he was so pure as a racing driver when describing the Shanghai International Circuit which he was visiting for the first time. Eight years on, despite having slightly short of 50 wins in his pocket, he remains arguably the most unfiltered driver on the grid – in his world where only racing and the ultimate victory matters. Thanks to his achievement on the track, he’s becoming that kind of role model that the new generation would look upon around the world.”

Sandra Baumgartner, Sky Sports Germany, Germany: “In addition to his exceptional talent, speed and ambition, Max now has composure, calmness and the ability to take a back seat. He still has a hot temper, but he has it under better control than in previous years. He is very popular in Germany. Of course, as a Dutchman he is our neighbour, but the Germans appreciate above all his honest and down-to-earth manner. Especially in German, his answers in interviews sometimes sound harsh, but that is simply his captivating honesty, he doesn’t embellish anything, he is simply straightforward. That’s the only thing he hasn’t changed, and I think he should stay that way.”

Jonas Hüttel, Ekstra Bladet, Denmark: “My favourite thing about Max is how straightforward he is. As just recently in Qatar when he was explaining how he didn’t want to be voted sportsman of the year in The Netherlands because such awards didn’t make sense to him. Dutch and Danes are similar that way. We are very direct. You can only admire his driving this year. It’s practically impossible to make as few or no mistakes as he has done. He will never be the most popular driver in Denmark but Max has one thing going for him. The mechanic who straps him in before each session is Ole Schack, a Danish Red Bull legend who has been with the race team since day one. We do like to see him do well.”

Steve Jones, Channel 4, UK: “Max has looked at the 2023 season with the same focus The Terminator had for Sarah Connor – utterly relentless. It’s been equal parts astonishing and terrifying seeing him lay waste to the competition. Out of the car he’s a lovely chap. In it – he’s a monster. I love it!”

Luke Smith, The Athletic, US: “What’s struck me about Max this year is just how relaxed he has been. He’s seemed more at ease than ever. I’ve enjoyed press conferences with him discussing ‘The Max Verstappen Podcast’ (and his dislike of podcasts), or Lando Norris breaking his trophy in Hungary. Even on the bad days, like in Jeddah or Singapore, he’s been calm and still a joy to chat with, still staying generous with his time. I’ve learned as much about Max the person as I have Max the racer this year. In both cases, what you see is very much what you get.”

Edd Straw, The Race, UK: “Max does extraordinary things behind the wheel of a racing car, which harnessed to his exacting relentlessness when it comes to refining it technically makes him a formidable driver. But he somehow manages to keep what can be an overwhelmingly complex sport amazingly simple, which comes over off-track with the matter-of-fact way he talks about his craft. That ability to sift what matters from the noise is at the heart of his brilliance and surely makes him one of the most single-minded and laser-focused racing drivers there has ever been.”

Roberto Chinchero, Sky Sports Italia, Italy: “Max is a pure racing talent. He has never been one of many, and never will be. This season has bored many people, especially those who expected what they had seen in the first part of 2022, but it was the same for the best F1 drivers. Opposing supporters might not love him, but at the same time they secretly dream to see him one day to drive for their favourite team.”

Phil Horton, Autoweek/New York Times, US: “From pre-season testing it was clear Max was going to win the title, but few expected it to be wrapped up so early, and with such dominant statistics in terms of victories and laps led. He has always had the raw speed, but now he has vast experience, allied with the assurance that he has long since achieved everything he wanted in Formula 1 – and more. Yet, as Red Bull boss Christian Horner outlined, he retains a voracious appetite not just to succeed but to dominate. That complete grip on Formula 1 hasn’t been entertaining, and sadly up front it has been a rather mundane season, but that’s on Verstappen’s opponents.”

Luis Vasconcelos, Formula Press/Sport TV, Portugal: “When a very gifted driver, with tremendous working ethics, gets his hands on the best car in the field and doesn’t have a team mate that can challenge him, you get what Max is doing now – complete domination of a season. With that success, we’re getting a more relaxed Max when he’s out of his car. His will to win, though, hasn’t changed, his performance in Suzuka being proof of that, as he was keen to prove Red Bull’s doubters wrong. But when things don’t go his way, we still get some flashbacks of a much younger Max – emotional, volatile and brash. He’s just 25 after all, so maturity will come with time.”

Julianne Cerasoli, UOL, Brazil: “It felt uncharacteristic to see a calm Max in Baku after being outperformed by Checo all weekend. He was happy, having understood how to get more out of the RB19. It was the first time I saw Max OK with losing. After that came 10 consecutive wins! In Qatar, he celebrated entering the triple world champion club by reminding us he can finally ‘speak in equal terms’ with his father-in-law Nelson Piquet next time he goes to Brazil. Fair.”

Albert Fabrega, DAZN, Spain: “Max has been always considered a huge talent in Spain and it is no surprise to see him winning his third world title. He has progressed a lot since his early years in F1 when he was Carlos Sainz’s team mate in Toro Rosso and he has deserved this crown more than anyone else. I can’t see any weak points in him. A lot of determination, talent, concentration and a perfect understanding of the tyres and car are a big part of his success. But like many of us, I would love to see him racing and competing elbow to elbow with the big names of the sport. He is a racer and I’m sure he is also looking forward to moments like these again.”

Michael Lamonato, Fox Sports Australia, Australia: “In a straightforward season, Verstappen has faced only one antagonist: speculation that rule changes ended his victory streak in Singapore – and, by extension, the implication his dominance was somehow unearned. But in his media call in Japan that week there was no anger or frustration; he was all calmness cool determination. Then he obliterated everyone on the track. It was a clear insight to title-era Verstappen. He doesn’t need adoration but does demand respect. And it’s respect he certainly deserves.”

Tobi Gruner, Auto Motor und Sport, Germany: “I still remember my first Interview with Max in Mexico 2015. He was a Toro Rosso rookie, still a bit shy. Short answers only. Let’s say it wasn’t the most exciting interview ever. Eight years and three titles later his answers are still short, but he’s much more confident and outspoken. Efficiency is paramount on and off the track. A pure racer. German fans appreciate his effort to talk German in the TV pen and that he prevented Lewis Hamilton from breaking Michael Schumacher’s championships record in 2021. But now he’s chasing it himself.”

Sandor Meszaros, Formula.hu, Hungary: “Max’s 2023 dominance is a historic achievement. What makes it particularly special for me is the fact that he is doing it in a natural way while after all these successes, he is still the down-to-earth guy who is always available for his fans. He has a huge fanbase in Hungary and is inspiring many youngsters for karting. Funny, that even though our Hungarian is one of the nicest and most colourful languages of the world, after all his victories this year, we are nearly out of praising words! Bravo, Max!”

Reporters on Max this season🩵

#max verstappen #rambles #f1 #formula 1 #red bull racing

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