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#aew #julia hart

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Willow Nightingale AEW Dynamite • April 24, 2024 📸: Edwin Co / edwinc1017

#aew #willow nightingale

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Sending love to everyone silently pushing through the waves of grief while trying to continue on each day.

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"Timeless" Toni Storm AEW Dynamite • April 24, 2024 📸: Edwin Co / edwinc1017

#aew #toni storm

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In My Mind

pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

summary: david beckham’s daughter meets her soulmate

a/n: this is so long, i should’ve split it into two, lmk if you want a part two not edited

requests open (literally nothing in my drafts) masterlist

———————

You knew of Carlos Sainz just as he knew of you. You were the triple threat daughter of the Beckhams, basically British royalty, you can sing, play football, and model. You weren’t quite sure how you ended up on a pitch in Monoco playing against F1 drivers, but when your father called, you showed up to fill a vacancy.

“I’m rusty Dad, heels aren’t the same as boots,” you wear a pair from one of your dad’s old Adidas lines. Modeling isn’t quite the same as playing football, but it is for charity.

“You’ll be fine, it’s the same as playing with me and your uncles growing up,” he reassures you. You are just happy that there are enough celebrities here that the focus isn’t on you two. You look like a female version of him when he was 23, you just lack the amount of talent he has. You are good, but not superstar good.

“Sir, it is an honor to play against you, I remember watching you play for Real Madrid growing up,” a Spanish man approaches the two of you. His voice is familiar to the one in your mind, but you brush it off.

“Thank you, Carlos Sainz, right?” your dad asks. “This is my daughter, Y/n Beckham,” he introduces you and walks away to talk with the teams honorary coach, winking at you.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you shake his hand. You keep up with the sport and you know there is a six year age gap between the two of you, but you can’t help but to admire the handsome Spaniard. A small part of you hopes it’s your soulmate, so you open up the usually closed channel in your mind.

Hey, any chance that you are 29?

I am, cariño, why do you ask? I’m surprised you are talking right now.

I’m just curious

As the two of you unknowingly chat in your mind, you don’t realize that you both aren’t talking to each other aloud.

“I should go, it was nice meeting you,” you smile and wave goodbye. Carlos is utterly smitten, a small part of him hopes that it’s you who occasionally talks in his mind, your voice sounds similar. The game starts at you show that you are a mini-me of your dad, getting physical on the pitch.

Ah! Fucker, fucking hell, that peice of shit, what a wanker.

Language, Amor! Are you ok?

I just got stabbed in the foot

High heels again?

Football boot. This is why I don’t play anymore

You huff as your soulmates laughter fills your brain. You get a break off of a pass from your dad, you line up and take the shot, watching it soar into the net. You jump up and celebrate, your Dad picking you up in the air.

It’s a coincidence, I am playing Football

Anything interesting happening?

I just watched David Beckham’s daughter score a beautiful goal

What?

You whip around and lock eyes with Carlos, both of you realizing at the same moment.

Nice goal, cariño. You should teach my teammate how to play

It’s all in the Beckham genes, Mr Sainz. Let’s talk more after the game, I’m going to enjoy wiping the pitch with your team.

Carlos’ heart can’t help but soar at the playful grin you shoot him as he stands in front of you, waiting for the ball to be kicked in order for play to be resumed after your goal. He does whatever he can to be close to you, brush against you, even if it means contesting you for the ball.

“If you get me with your boot, I will cut you off,” you hiss at him, shoving him away from you, ignoring the comforting warmth and sparks.

“Don’t say that, mi amor. I love your competitive spirit,” he smiles as he tries to get a foot on the ball. He words work to distract you for a quick second as Charles Leclerc steals the ball from you. Your dad and you are hot on his tail.

“It has been the Beckham show out here, and I don’t expect anything less. A beautiful goal already from Y/n, the second oldest of David and Victoria’s children. That was quite unexpected, seeing as how she chose to pursue modeling over football,” one commentator says.

“Yes, well David brought her in to fill the last minute opening, I believe he said that she was always playing with him growing up and it does show. It seems like the Formula One team has noticed that skill and put Carlos Sainz on her. Poor guy is too afraid to be aggressive,” the other commentator replies.

“Careful with the shoving, you’ll earn a yellow,” David warns his daughter, knowing she is hard to bring back down once she is in the game, something she got from him. At half, you happily talk strategy and game with your dad, a part of you wondering why you ever quit.

“I found my soulmate,” you disclose to him while no one else is paying attention. No one is a bigger fan of soulmates than David Beckham, so to say he was excited would be an understatement.

“Who is it?” he asks excitedly but also ready to beat someone up.

“Carlos,” you subtly glance at the driver, his eyes trained on you.

“I’m happy for you, but he better watch out on the pitch,” David says, and he does play a little rougher around Carlos, seeing how he reacts. By the end of the match, your dad and you shut out the drivers 5-0, the two of you accounting for 4 of those goals.

Your dinner with Carlos is lovely, spending a quiet evening getting better acquainted. Afterwards, you met his friends in the hotel bar for a few drinks. George Russel became a quick friend, you knowing him from his fashion, and many of the guys knowing you because of your dad.

“Come visit me in England after this, before the next race,” you kiss him in the car. You already had your flight booked to return home the day after the match, not expecting to want to stay longer.

“I will miss you, Mi Amor, keep your mind open,” he hugs you tight. You step out of the car and onto your families private jet. As you fly, you get text messages from a group chat you were added to, Lando and Charles sending you different photos of Carlos, some silly and some thirst traps.

By the time you land and get to your family home you are exhausted. You are tired enough to collapse on the couch.

“You smoked dad out there,” Romeo high fives you.

“I’m also 50,” your dad huffs, sitting down.

“We could beat you five on one,” Brooklyn says, back home for the month.

“Oh yeah? Let’s go to the pitch, right now,” your dad stands up, “I get Harper and your mom to help even it out a little,” he claimed the youngest of you all.

“Come on, Y/n!” Cruz pulls you up as you groan.

“No, I’m too sore,”

“From the match or from Carlos?” your dad teases as your face flushes. Your brothers stop and turn to you.

“Carlos?” Romeo looks ready to fight.

“My soulmate,” you say sheepishly.

“That’s great! When can we meet him?” Your mom asks and you give her a one moment look. They talk amongst themselves as you converse in your mind.

Carlos? Have you given any thought to coming here after the race

I have, I’ll leave for you right after my post-race media duties. Is it weird that I miss you already?

No, I miss you too. Your friends sending all these pictures of you doesn’t help.

What are you doing right now?

My brothers challenged my dad to a match in the backyard pitch, my brothers know your first name by the way. What are you doing?

Stretching after free practice one and two before going back to the hotel, Charles is yelling at me to put a shirt on

“Y/n! Let’s go,” Brooklyn snaps you out of your mind as you giggle with a blush.

“Okay! Coming!”

Have fun with that, Carlitos. I gotta go.

I’ll talk to you later.

You and your brothers destroy your parents and younger sister, although you think your dad went easy on you. You head to bed after a small dinner.

Smooth Operatoooorrr Smooooooooth Operatoooooor

Carlos? What the hell? You’ve been signing that for the past half hour. I can’t block it out anymore.

Ay! Mi amor! You scared me!

Carlos, love, I would like to go to sleep.

Sorry, amor. I take it you won’t be asking me to sing you to sleep anytime soon?

Not what I said, Carlitos. Goodnight.

Goodnight, amor. Sleep well.

You watch the race with your family, and pick Carlos up from the airport.

“Is there anything I should know?” he asks, excited yet nervous to spend the week with you.

“I hope you can bend it like Beckham, there is no way you won’t be getting out of going on the pitch with Romeo or Dad.

“I can bend you like Beckham,” Carlos flirts with you, you can’t help but to laugh.

“That was awful. Oh, one more thing, Mom and I have a shoot on Tuesday so you will be left alone for a bit,” you tell him, enjoying the feeling of his hand in yours as your drive.

“You should let me drive, I am a professional driver after all,” Carlos rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“No, you just drove all weekend, plus you are my guest,” you look at him, his dark hair gently pushed back. It’s unreal how fast you are falling in love with your soulmate.

“Alright, but when you come to Spain, no complaining about me spoiling you,” Carlos locks eyes with you, a blush spreading across your face. It doesn’t take too long until you are pulling into the country estate, your brothers waiting outside for you. Carlos is quick to hop out and get the door for you.

“Brookie, Romeo, Cruz, meet my other half, Carlos. Carlitos, these are my brothers, Brooklyn, Romeo, and Cruz,” you introduce them, letting go of Carlos’ hand so he can shake your brothers’ hands.

“Come on, Mom has a small late night meal ready,” Brooklyn says, leading you to the informal dining area.

“Welcome to our home, Carlos. I hope that the boys haven’t given you too much trouble,” your mom greets him with a hug.

“He’s pretty,” Harper tells you and you can’t hold back your laugh. Despite your ten year age difference, you were still close to her due to spending a lot of time at home.

“He is, and I know your soulmate will be just as pretty,” you hug her. Carlos survives the meal and you show him to the guest room after comfortable conversation with the family after dinner.

“Goodnight, mi amor,” Carlos says softly, standing in the doorway, neither of you wanting to leave each other, but neither of you wanting to cross a boundary that may exist. The soulmate bond was dangerous like that, once you meet your soulmate, it’s hard to let them go, but the bond does strengthen as well, to the point where you can send mental images to each other and feel one another’s feelings.

“Goodnight, Carlitos,” you tilt your head up to softly kiss him. You walk a few rooms down the hall to your own room. Lying awake in bed, oddly restless, you decide to see if Carlos is awake.

Y/n, are you awake?

I am, I was just about to see if you were awake. Put on a hoodie or something and meet me in the hall

You throw on a hoodie and slippers, not bothering to change your pajama pants. Carlos is waiting outside his bedroom door for you. The two of you sneak out to the outdoor entertainment hut your dad made. You quickly make hot chocolate and snuggle on a couch, a blanket over your legs as you look at the stars.

“I don’t think I will be able to let you travel without me,” you sigh, your head resting on Carlos’ shoulder, his free arm wrapped tightly around you.

“Then come with me, I’ve seen how hard it is for soulmates to be apart, especially in F1. Think about it, you don’t have to decide now,” Carlos’ thumb rubs soothing circles on your side.

“Hmm, let’s see how the time between here and Spain goes,” you yawn, snuggling closer to him. His scent envelopes you, helping you drift into sleep. Carlos carefully takes the empty mug out of your hand and sets it down before pulling you closer. Your steady breathing lulls him to sleep, something you both could get used to.

#carlos sainz jr.

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Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

______________________________________________________________

When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?)  Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Anya stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Then maybe you should have your people reschedule them. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track. This wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "O Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of place since he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always bet us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for Anya, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her slender frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter with a swatting motion.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The butterfly one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that," Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to understand the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#ayrton senna #lewis hamilton

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Mark Webber and Oscar Piastri in Drive To Survive: Season 5, Episode 6 (2023)

#mark webber #oscar piastri

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I feel like we as a society haven’t considered dark!mark enough. He’s from Australia, Australias a big place, he HAS to have a private little ranch he takes LL to for a vacation!!! (It’s not kidnapping if she willingly went!) anytime she tries to leave? Look at the new baby animal he got!!! Isn’t it cute!!! Please stay another week!!!

"they're so tiny and cute!" you look up at mark while petting a baby goat in your arms. it had brown patches of fur in it's milky white mane and he was an adorable thing.

mark smiles, "he loves you, darling." as you beam at him, he presses a loving kiss on your temple.

all week he's been plying you with soft and cuddly animals, and keeping you entertained and happy in his secluded ranch estate. he'd whisked you away for a two night getaway, but time has passed far too quickly— and he insisted on, "just another night, darling." with several excuses up his sleeve to keep you there.

the current arguement was the flights are all grounded due to an incoming storm, and he preferred you safe in land. and you believed him— because why wouldn't you? he's always been kind and gentle with you, never forcing you into anything.

there's no reason why you should leave, right?

#mark webber

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Cats in the sun

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#wwe #dwayne johnson #the rock

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#wwe #asuka #dakota kai #kairi sane

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What date are we?

Read comic here

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When you’ve been cooking for long enough, you stop making recipes and start making “shit in a skillet” and “whatever soup”

[sunnytkm23]

Could you write something about age gap with Jenson?

Bad decisions make great stories— Jenson button x reader

Summary — after breaking up with your childish EX you decide to seek attention from a real man

Age gap, slightly suggestive, mentions drugs (weed) and alcohol consumption

I haven't seen my ex since we broke up

Probably 'cause he didn't wanna grow up

Now I'm out and wearing something low-cut

'Bout to get attention from a grown-up

After months of not seeing or hearing from your ex, you finally have some peace of mind. When you decided to break things off, your friends breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had never been fond of him and for good reason. Your ex was incredibly immature, and it felt like you were the only one putting any effort into the relationship. Instead of treating you with respect and affection, he acted like you were just a casual hookup. All the two of you ever did was hang out at his place and get high with his buddies. It was a frustrating and disheartening situation, and you're glad that you finally put an end to it.

After deciding to start dating again, you turned to your close friends for support. Together, you all went out to lunch and during the conversation, one of your friends began sharing about her recent hookup. She mentioned that he was significantly older than her, but it had been a transformative experience. This led her to suggest that maybe you should consider going out with an older man since guys your age just weren't doing it for you anymore.

You and your friends were having a great time at a club, enjoying your drinks and dancing to the energetic beats. Suddenly, one of your friends left the group to grab another drink at the bar. When she returned, she was giggling uncontrollably and tugging on your arm with excitement.

"I've found you the perfect guy, no kidding!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You were curious and asked her where this guy was.

Your friend gestured towards a man standing on the other side of the room. He had an imposing presence with his tall stature, broad shoulders, and blonde hair that was turning gray. Despite your best efforts, your gaze lingered on him, captivated by his striking appearance.

"He's absolutely gorgeous," your friend exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically as she nudged you towards him.

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to go through with this, but you couldn't deny that the man was incredibly attractive. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, which he swirled absently as he watched you with a curious glint in his blue eyes.

As you were lost in your thoughts, wondering whether or not to approach the handsome stranger in the corner, your friend suddenly interrupted your reverie.

"Hey, look over there! It's him! The guy who's been checking you out all night! And guess what? He's single!" she exclaimed, nudging you playfully.

You quickly glanced in the direction of her pointing finger and, sure enough, you caught his gaze. A smile spread across his face as he caught your eye. You returned the smile, feeling your cheeks warm as your heart began to race.

Your friend's words echoed in your head, urging you to make a move. And in that moment, you felt emboldened. You took a deep breath, gathered your courage, and made your way towards him.

You walked up to him, flashing a friendly smile. Your friend from across the room waved at you excitedly, giving you thumbs-up. It was clear she had high hopes for the two of you.

He took a sip of his drink, scrutinizing your face and body language. His gaze was almost piercing, and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

As he approached you, his penetrating gaze fixed on you, he tilted his head slightly and asked, "Am I interrupting something?" You felt a rush of shyness overcome you as you shook your head in response.

"My friend told me I should come over here and say hi," you replied, laughing nervously.

His chuckle grew louder as he appeared to be even more fascinated. The creases on his forehead deepened, and a glint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. "Is that so?" he asked. "And could you tell me what led your friend to believe that I was...?" he trailed off, anticipating my response.woAs you stood there, his confident tone and playful smirk caught your attention. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your heart as you gazed into his eyes. "Well, she thought we might hit it off," you replied, trying to keep up with his witty banter.

Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me

Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good

Guys my age don't know how to keep me

Don't know how to keep me

Don't know how to keep me

Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good

As you sat across from him at the bar, he chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "Hit it off?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Love, you seem like a nice girl, but I'm afraid that I might be a bit too old for you," he said, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and concern.

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark. "How old are you?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light and playful.

His smirk grew wider as he took another you pondered over his comment, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his eyes. Was he joking or being serious? You decided to play along and asked him to guess her age. "I'm guessing over 25 under 30?" You said with a smile, to which he took another sip of his drink. "30 and under 40?" You tried again, giggling at her own terrible jokes. He just shook his head in amusement.

Then he turned the tables and asked her to guess his age. You squint your eyes, trying to read his expression. He didn't sound serious, so she decided to take a shot in the dark. "Older than 40?" You guessed, half-jokingly. He laughed and rolled his eyes, clearly amused by your response.“Well then how old are you?” You said curiously. “Come closer” he said and I inched closer, his eyes locked with mine. Your heart started racing as you got closer, you wondered if he was going to say something funny again.

“You have to guess,” he said as he got even closer. My heart began to beat so fast in my chest, you were becoming excited and scared at the same time. “Well?” He said, smirking as we were almost face to face. “40?” You guessed nervously.

“Close, I'm 44” he said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“44?” You said surprised, you looked away for a second not expecting such a big difference in age. “Are you really?” You said, looking back at him and his confident smirk.

“Mhm, do you have a problem with that?” He asked in a teasing way, still staring at me with that smirk on his face. I noticed that I was staring right back at him as well, I didn’t say anything I just giggled nervously.

“You don’t?” He tilted his head “you’re actually being pretty chill about it” he said looking impressed and he sipped on his empty drink, keeping his eyes on me as he did.

“Well what can I say except that I’m sick of guys my age” you said looking at him.

“I see” he said, still staring at me “why are you sick of guys your age? Are they just immature?” He asked, smiling slightly, he was still so confident he had to be joking around with me.

“So immature” you said rolling my eyes “they just want one thing and don’t know how to treat a girl” you said confidently as if that were your explanation for everything and you were some expert in the field. He laughed and smirked, he didn’t look surprised at all that you said that.

“Oh really? They just want one thing huh” he said, teasing me and he got closer to me. “And you think I’m any different?” He smirked and you shivered slightly as he looked down at you.

“Well are you… different?” You asked.

“What do you think?” He smiled, staring at me with those piercing eyes of his, if his eyes were lasers you were done for. “Maybe I’m worse,” he smirked.

“I’m Y/n” you said introducing yourself.

“I’m Jenson,” he said, reaching out his hand for me to shake it. You reluctantly did so , his hands felt strong when he gripped yours. The way he held it for a few seconds before letting go made your heart race even more.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He said, staring at me intently. You nodded my head and you could tell he was still smirking but you couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore as you were so nervous about what his question was.

“What is it?” You swallowed hard, you felt him staring at you intensely still. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it would come right out of your throat.

“Have you ever been with an older man?” He asked directly, your face flushed red and you felt so shy and awkward. You quickly looked down at the ground, your brain was blank and you couldn’t think of what to say.

“Well?” He said after a few seconds when you didn’t answer him. You could hear his smirk in his voice and you could feel him staring directly at you still. You looked up at his eyes which were looking at you intently, you felt his gaze piercing you.

So I'm never going back

No, I'm never going back

“Uh..no..I haven’t” you finally answered with your face still looking down at the ground. He smirked even more, you thought he was going to laugh at you or make a rude comment.

“So I’m going to be the first?” He asked, still smirking and looking at you intensely. I felt even more embarrassed and I looked away. You felt him inching even closer to you again, and your face became even hotter.

“I think you’re blushing” he said with a teasing tone, his smirk just stayed the same. “Oh am I?” You said, giggling as one hand nervously went up to your face to feel if it was actually flushed.

“Are you embarrassed?” He asked playfully, his voice now sounding softer as he spoke to you. “A little”you said, nodding your head as you still found it too hard to look at him without feeling embarrassed. You felt him getting even closer to you and you felt his warm breath as he spoke to you.

“I don’t know…” you stumbled over your words, why were you acting like this? It’s not like you've never talked to a guy before. Why were you acting so awkward and clumsy? He was just staring at you though, his grin was still on his face and he seemed so relaxed.

“Let’s get out of here” Jenson said, taking your hand.

His grip on your hand caused your heart to beat faster, it felt so strong and comforting. You didn’t say anything as you followed him, you were so caught up in the moment.

Your head was filled with a mess of feelings. You didn't know what to think of everything. You felt both scared and excited but most of all you felt nervous. It was like we were a couple leaving the club together, and you didn’t know where he was even taking you.

As you were leaving your Friend sent a message to you.

Friend— have fun!!! 😝😘

Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good

So I'm never going back

So I'm never going back

Don't know, don't know, don't know

No, I'm never going back

Don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good

No, I'm never going back

Tagged — @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @entr4p3 @formulas-bitch @formulaal @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hrts4scarr @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @starkwlkr @strugglingyetvibing @sweate-r-weathe-r @swifth0lic @toasttt11 @tallrock35 @the-ghost-lovwr @uluvjay @venusisnothere

#jenson button

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Kenzo SS15

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Today is the International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People. Keep talking about it. Keep it on the front page. Do not let a genocide continue in silence.