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oofthwoods · 4 months

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DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

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lxclerc · 7 months

Text

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 — 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... wherein old photos of you and charles resurface and goes viral, forcing you and the man whose heart you broke to cross paths once again request… no faceclaim... christina nadin pairing… charles leclerc x reader warning… none so far

note... this is going to be part of a series that includes both one shots and smau but can be read as a stand alone

series masterlist main masterlist

current part (part one) → part two

charleslec

liked by username and others

charleslec fans found an old instagram account allegedly belonging to charles from (what we believe to be) ages 12 - 20. the account is filled of personal pictures consisting of his supposed ex girlfriend, y/n y/l/n with sweet captions. y/n is a well known motorsport podcaster from monaco.

view all comments…

username EXCUSE ME?

username this was not in my 2023 bingo card 😭

username you mean to tell me my girl yn dated shARL

username the way that this is probably why she’s had practically the entire grid as guests in her podcast apart from charles

username this is such an invasion of their privacy though like clearly they both didnt want this to be dug up

⤷ username i mean if they didn’t want anyone to see, they should have deleted the account or at the very least put it on private

username okay but these pictures are so 🥹

username i always thought it was weird the way charles and yn never interacted despite both being from monaco and involved the racing world

charles_lec7

liked by lorenzotl and others

charles_lec7 Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour. il y a 16 ans, tu es venu au monde et c'est la meilleure chose qui me soit arrivée. je suis toujours là pour t'écouter parler de n'importe quoi pendant des heures en attendant le coucher du soleil, malgré la plainte d'enzo qui ne veut pas nous conduire 🤣🤣

(happy birthday, my love. 16 years ago, you came into this world and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. i’m always here to listen to you talk about whatever for hours while waiting for sunset despite enzo’s complaint against driving us.)

view all messages… July 7, 2013

yourusername Merci beaucoup, mon ange. Je suis tellement reconnaissante d'avoir passé un autre anniversaire avec toi. Je t'aime plus que les mots ❤️❤️ (thank you so much, my angel. i am so grateful to have spent another birthday with you. i love you more than words.)

⤷ charles_lec7 J'ai hâte de vous souhaiter un joyeux anniversaire 70 fois de plus. (looking forward to greeting you happy birthday 70 more times.)

⤷ username he was going to greet her 70 more happy birthdays because he thought they’d spend the rest of their life together 😭😭

⤷ username i only learned about them today but i am a child of divorce and they are my parents

jules_bianchi Joyeux anniversaire, yn!! Je suis toujours là pour veiller sur toi et Charles quand vous avez besoin de moi. (happy birthday, yn!! i’m always here looking out for you and charles whenever you need me.)

⤷ yourusername merci, jules ❤️ nous t'encourageons toujours (thank you, jules. we’re always rooting for you.)

⤷ username oh my god 🥲🥲🥲

username i ran as fast as i could as soon as i saw the posts and oh my god it’s true 😭

username they’ve 😭😭 been 😭 together 😭😭 since 😭😭 they 😭😭 were 16 😭😭

⤷ username if you scroll even further down, he first greeted her on her 13th birthday where he called her the prettiest girl 🥲

⤷ username i’m about to stab myself

username y’all ever thought that the reason why he probably wanted number 7 is because her birthday is july 7 which is 7/7

⤷ username STOP IT RN

⤷ username his username has 7 in it bc it’s her birthday 🥲

⤷ username someone fucking sedate me

charles_lec7

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

charles_lec7 entrer en 2016 avec la même fille qu'en 2010. mon amour, je te tiendrai la main pour toujours ❤️❤️ (entering 2017 with the same girl from 2010. my love, i’ll hold your hand forever.)

view all comments… January 1, 2016

arthur_leclerc vous êtes tous les deux si ennuyeux 🙄🙄 (you’re both so annoying)

⤷ yourusername arrêtez d'être jaloux (stop being jealous)

lorenzotl Bonne année à vous deux! (happy new year to the both of you!)

⤷ yourusername je t'aime, enzo

yourusername Tu ne m'as pas demandé de sortir avec toi avant 2012 🤔🤔 (you didn’t ask me on a date till 2012 though)

⤷ charles_lec7 Je t'aime depuis bien plus longtemps que tu ne le penses (i love you far longer than you’ve known)

⤷ joris_trouche Malheureusement, je peux le confirmer en tant que personne qui a dû tout écouter. (unfortunately i can confirm this as someone who had to listen to everything)

⤷ yourusername ❤️❤️

yourusername and to many more years to come. Je t'aimerai pour le reste de ma vie (i’ll love you for the rest of my life)

⤷ charles_lec7 as long as i’m with you

username no because they legitimately seem so in love????? like from their words and not just the pictures

⤷ username there’s no way you’re going to tell me that a man who said “i’ve loved you far longer than you’ve known” and a girl who said “i’ll love you for the rest of my life” are no longer in love

username scrolling through this account is like watching their relationship unfold and mature before my eyes

username there’s no way you can tell me that two people so in love, looking forward to the future they plan to have together can just fall out of love and be complete strangers a few years later

⤷ username right!!!! because what do you mean love like this can exist and somehow just fade? what’s the point of love then??????

username the rest of us really be having an existential crisis because of a relationship that ended 6 years ago 😭

charles_lec7

liked by yourusername and others

charles_lec7 10 years from now, i hope it’s still you by my side

view all comments… November 5, 2017

yourusername félicitations, f2 world champion 🎉🥳 (congratulations)

⤷ charles_lec7 Merci, mon amour, je t'aime tellement. (thank you, my love. i love you so much.)

⤷ yourusername 💕

⤷ username i think this is the end guys 😔

⤷ username her energy is so different here. she literally sounds more like a friend greeting a friend rather than a girlfriend of 6 years by this point

username how did we go from “looking forward to greet you 70 more times) bc they were so sure they’d grow old together to “10 years from now, i hope it’s still you by my side” where he sounds so uncertain if they’re in each other’s futures???????

⤷ username no fuck that because how the fuck did we go from “i love you more than words” and “i’ll love you for the rest of my life” to a “💕” without even an i love you too???????????

username this is his last post of her 🥲🥲🥲

⤷ username she doesn’t even follow this account anymore

⤷ username he abandoned this account after they broke up 😭😭

username no bc he’s f2 champion here and they were still together but he entered formula 1 single??? what the hell happened

yourusername

liked by lissiemackintosh and others

yourusername in another life

view all comments…

lissiemackintosh gorgeous gorgeous girl

⤷ yourusername no you

madisonbeer 🔥🔥🔥

yourbestfriend un voyage dans le passé ? (a trip down memory lane?)

⤷ yourusername 😵😬

username no bc your love story had me tearing up and now i refresh my feed and see this?

username she wanted to remind charles what he lost 😭

username in another life!!! i would have been your girlllllll

username literally the one that got away

username i simply can’t accept that this is the end of their story like this can’t be it, right?

taglist: @ncentic @coffeehurricanes @academia-girl00 @nhlfs @livinglifethroughfanfic @sage-butterflyy @chimchimjiminie16 @thatgirlmj @hiraethrhapsody

#formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 one shot #charles leclerc fluff #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smau #smau #social media #formula 1 smau

2K notes · View notes

niniluvsainz · 2 months

Text

sad beautiful tragic ☽ cs55

(5.1k words)

masterlist |

in which... falling out of love was both relieving and terrifying.

carlos sainz x wife!fem!reader

(PLEASE READ) warnings... pregnancy, falling out of love, angst, pregnancy symptoms, baby delivering, carlos is a dad, reader is a mom, no use of y/n, public marriage proposal, yelling, yelling in front of a child, ferrari, how is it a carlos fic without lando norris being the adoptive son, abortion mention, aggressive carlos, slamming hands on surface, slight unwanted pregnancy, divorce, confusing ending bcs its eleven pm and im sleepy, not proofread.

WHEN YOU AND CARLOS MET, it was unprepared and you were both two naive children. carlos was just jumpstarting his motorsport career, and while he was in england, he met you. it was a small moment, at a nightclub, but the moment he laid eyes on you he knew he had found his person. the spaniard didn't know that night, july ninth, would change his life forever.

you, in your elegant maroon dress, swaying your body to the beats echoing around the small room. he had offered to buy you a drink, and you, already one too many drinks in, could not reject a handsome young man's offer.

you exchanged numbers that same night, and promised to go out one day again. two weeks later, that promise was fulfilled.

"i hope you like sushi," carlos mentioned, opening your side of his car door. you smiled, as you both walked hand-in-hand into the luxurious restaurant.

after hours of getting to know each other over sushi, a few appetizers, and two bottles of wine, you both decided to give the relationship a try. of course, with his career came many different events for carlos to attend around the world, but when he would be back in england, he'd spend all his time with you.

when carlos was called to be promoted into formula one to join the scuderia toro rosso alongside max verstappen, you were the first one he called to deliver the news. the next week, carlos had flown in to england to celebrate with you. you had both celebrated in multiple ways, and in one of those particular occasions, you became pregnant.

the symptoms began lightly, you became dizzy very frequently, and it wasn't until you could not take the sickness anymore that you went for a doctor visit.

when you heard the phrase, congratulations--you are six weeks pregnant, the pit in your stomach enlarged. how would you tell carlos? would he want to be a father? were you ready to be a mother? you didn't know who to tell, you felt alone. your parents were not in the picture, so you were actually and completely alone.

carlos was in italy, preparing for his formula one debut, and he would not be coming to visit you in two weeks. those two weeks were absolute misery, you couldn't pass down food, you'd felt horrible. when carlos arrived in your house, you tried applying makeup to hide the hollowness in your cheeks and how your warm skin tone had faded. however, carlos immediately noticed, including the drastic weight loss on your body.

"amor, what happened?" carlos had concern laced in his tone and features, holding you delicately as he pulled away from the welcome embrace. carlos' eyes scanned over you, as you tried to swallow the breakdown climbing up.

"let's go sit, please." you whispered, motioning to your couch. carlos had a million thoughts run through his head, all leading to different outcomes.

"i'm pregnant; eight weeks." you paused for a few seconds to register carlos' reaction.

being pregnant was not on carlos' mental list.

carlos' body language said it all, according to you. the slight arm hold loosening, his body slightly jerking away, and his eyes--oh, the eyes you grew to love and adore, now you could see the numerous emotions flooding him.

before he could say anything, you spoke first. "listen, i understand if you do not want to keep this baby. but, i made my decision, and i'm keeping it. i'm not going to force you to be in the baby's life, because i understand having a baby right now when the most important part of your career is just about to start--" carlos leaned in and placed his lips on yours. the tears began falling to your cheeks, staining his own.

when he pulled away, he stared deeply into your eyes. "corazon, you just made me become the happiest man alive. i love you." a smile formed on your lips, before you embraced him tightly. you clung to him for dear life, happy and relieved you wouldn't be alone in this after all.

"i can speak with my family, my mother and sisters can help you. but, you would most likely have to move to spain with me." carlos explained, releasing from the hug. "oh," was all you could mutter.

you had never seen past britain, it's always been home to you. but you knew if you wanted help you couldn't do it alone. "wouldn't you think it's kind of weird, that the first time i'm meeting your family it's because i'm pregnant with your child?" you asked, nervousness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

"no," carlos immediately answered. "i was thinking either way of taking you to meet my family during my time here, so they are expecting you, and they're really excited to meet you." carlos reassured. you nodded with a small smile. with one last look, carlos got up and headed to the kitchen.

"what are you going to do?" you asked, facing the direction he walked. carlos began grabbing pans out of your cabinet and multiple ingredients.

"i'm going to make sure my girlfriend and little carlitos are well fed. now, what are you craving?"

when you knew your baby would be on the way, you were actually on a boat with ana and blanca, carlos' sisters. you felt the painful kicks, and immediately told both sisters. the first thing they did was tell the boat to turn back to shore as fast as humanly possible, and then they called carlos, who was with his parents. you don't know how, but you truly believe a higher power was helping you. you blacked out for everything, and it wasn't until you regained consciousness again that you were being given your baby into your arms. carlos was right beside you, staring down at your newborn child. he was crying, just as you were. "it's little carlitos." you whispered, looking up at carlos with a large smile on your face.

carlitos seemed to grow very quickly in your eyes. you were eternally grateful for carlos sr and reyes, for being the most loving grandparents for your baby. they both took you in and treated you just like their own blood, "como una verdadera familia." (like a real family.) ana and blanca became close to you, and were the aunts that would spoil every little dime for carlitos.

carlos, of course, was the best father ever. you will admit, both of you walked into parenthood not knowing almost anything, but with the help of carlos' family, you both learned. you had decided to not yet accompany carlos to his formula one races, as you did not want carlitos out with the media at such a young age. carlos understood your reasoning, but you both were always supporting him by the television screen.

birthday celebrations were surrounded by friends and family, and carlitos was over the moon when he would see all the candy, piñatas, and colorful decor around the backyard of the sainz home.

a few weeks before carlitos turned three, you noticed carlos being very suspicious. you would catch him in his own lies, but decided on not commenting anything. instead, you tried speaking to ana and blanca but they would just divert your concerns to something relating to carlitos, and you would always fall for the trap, because you loved everything about your son.

of course you were not knowing what was about to come when carlos had simply invited you out to dinner. carlitos had stayed with reyes and carlos sr, the couple claiming they were wanting to spend quality time with their grandson.

it was a lovely dinner with carlos, as it had been quite a while since it was you two without carlitos around. your waiter had come to receive the check, but before leaving he informed you two, "there's a live band on the other side of the restaurant if you would like to enjoy some live music." you looked at carlos, a sparkling glint in your eye. carlos chuckled, and he got up from his chair, extending out a hand for you to grab.

you both walked towards the back of the restaurant that would oversee the city of madrid. the band, who was playing soothingly, added to the nice touch where one would stare out to the beautiful city and be able to listen to a calming tune.

“corazón,” carlos said beside you. you turned to look at him, only to see his gorgeous brown eyes staring at you with admiration. you smiled, and carlos cleared his throat before glancing down at the ground. he only looked back up to the band and gave them a slight nod, before getting down on one knee. he reached for his pocket, and you quickly glanced around your surroundings to see clients of the restaurant begin to take notice of what was about to happen in front of them.

the band’s music quieted down; you were sure carlos left them the notice in advance. your lips parted in shock, as you stared down at him. “mi vida, you are the love of my life. you have given me the gift of becoming a father to our son. i love you more than words and actions can describe,” carlos paused for a moment, as he saw you beginning to release tears from the corner of your eyes. he knew you hated ruining your makeup because of crying.

when carlos opened the small box he had put into view a few moments ago and positioned it in front of him to display to you, you felt the entire world stop for this one moment.

carlos said your full name, it sounded quite unnatural since he's only ever called you loving nicknames. "i'm already the happiest man right now, but will you add to that happiness and marry me?"

you nodded your head yes immediately and grabbed both his hands, helping him stand up and leaning in to meet your lips with his. the clapping sound surrounded you both as well as cheering sounds, but you paid no mind as you had everything you've cared for right in front of you.

once separated from the loving kiss, you opened your eyes to see carlos placing the gorgeous engagement ring on your finger, and you looked up as you saw the entire family standing feet away from you two. the tears from your eyes were uncontrollable, your emotions all over the place.

carlitos, only having a few months experienced in walking, wattled over to you and carlos. carlos picked his son up, and you placed a small kiss on carlitos' hand.

the family walked towards your own, congratulating you and carlos. "you knew, didn't you?" you asked blanca and ana. they both giggled, and you shook your head laughing. this is what family was. and you were so unbelievably happy you had won the lottery in that department.

the wedding came months later. it was a beautiful reception. a few of carlos' colleagues in formula one were invited. it was a wedding in december, so you and carlos would have enough time for your honeymoon before he would be back in racing. he was given his biggest opportunity yet in formula one, being promoted to drive in mclaren by the upcoming season.

both you and carlos agreed you wanted to expand your tiny family by adding another member. and by the time carlos had begun his new formula one season, you were already confirmed to be expecting.

being a mother in waiting is not pretty. you had gone through this process once with carlitos, and going through it again one would expect for it to go smoother, but it was just as difficult. this was all motherhood, was your motivation to keep going. for you, your husband, your son and your new baby on the way.

carlitos understood many things, including the fact he was going to become a big brother. when asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he always answered he wanted "una pequeña hermanita." (a little sister.) you had also encouraged the entire family to speak spanish to carlitos so he would be fluent in both english and spanish.

your second child arrived during a very special event in spain. dia de los muertos (day of the dead.), to be exact. carlos was not with you, as he was halfway across the world in austin, texas.

you were with carlos sr and reyes, and they both took great care of you. ana and blanca took care of carlitos while you were in the hospital. you asked both in-laws to please do not tell carlos, as you thought this could completely flood his mind and he would not do good in the race.

your second child, camilo, was delivered on the second of november. if you were not mistaken, this day was the day of qualifying for carlos. and no way in hell would you ever call him for him to go ballistic and fuck it all up. and that's how it went. carlos did not hear from any of the family for the entire weekend, and even going into the next race. you did not want to tell him over the phone his newborn son was born. you didn't think he would take it so far, but he did.

after the brazilian grand prix, carlos was going back to spain to you. he would have a week and then he would fly to abu dhabi for the final race of the season. camilo was two and a half weeks already, and looked like the carbon copy of carlos. carlitos had more of your own features, but if someone were to definitely see camilo they would immediately recognize carlos sainz jr as the father.

when carlos arrived, you were putting camilo to sleep. carlitos promised to wait for his papi in the living room of your recently purchased family home. you didn't hear when carlos arrived, so when you heard the door of your shared bedroom open and you heard your husband's voice behind you say your name, you were startled and quickly turned around, not forgetting camilo was still in your arms.

"is camilo asleep?" carlitos asked in a hushed whisper. you turned around and placed your newborn son in his crib, before placing his blankets over him, and turning on the baby monitor.

"yes, he just fell asleep." you responded to your son's question. carlos' eyes were burning your skin, and you couldn't dare to look him in the eye. you even flinched when carlos spoke, but not to you.

"campeón, why don't you go to your room, i need to speak with mamá first. and then you can show me your new balón de fútbol." you pursed your lips before carlitos turned his head to look at you for reassurance, which you gave with a small smile and nod, and seconds later carlitos left to his own room happily skipping down the hall.

once carlos was sure his son was out of hearing distance, his attention was brought back to you. "i find out by my son, as soon as i walk through the door, that you had the baby?" carlos asked cautiously. his tone was neutral, but you felt the argument begin to approach. "you didn't even call to let me know?"

you took a deep breath before answering. "i didn't want you to find out over the phone, and you weren't going to be here because of your races."

carlos let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "i had the right to know was son was born the minute someone had a hold of a phone at that hospital." his tone was aggressive, but not loud to wake up camilo or let carlitos hear.

"i didn't want you to mess up your races because i was having the baby and you wouldn't be around," you tried explaining. if it wasn't for camilo sleeping, carlos would be yelling right now.

"no, i would be flying back because i would want to see my wife and be there for her and for our new child!" carlos began whisper-yelling as he motioned to the sleeping baby behind you.

"i'm--i'm sorry, carlos. i thought i was doing what was best for you--" you were cut off by carlos' following words. "how do you know what's best for me? what's best was, knowing i had a son the second he arrived. i would have come back, and taken care of you and our sons. where the hell did you leave carlitos in all of this?" he asked, his face turning red from the anger he was projecting.

"he stayed with your sisters." you whispered, looking down. carlos nodded his head slowly before scoffing again. "when i could've been there!" he countered. you looked up to meet his gaze. "okay, but it happened! it's over, we can't erase time."

carlos stayed quite for a few moments, as if thinking his thoughts through. the argument was immature; of course on some parts you were wrong by not letting carlos know immediately, but carlos immediately went to argue instead of seeing his newborn baby for the first time.

carlos walked over to you and looked down at the sleeping child. you stared at the small interaction between both father and son, as carlos slowly gave camilo his pointer finger, to which the child, even sleeping, gripped the finger.

"he looks just like you," you whispered, staring between your husband and son. the corner of carlos' lips turned upwards, non-verbally agreeing with your statement.

"i'm sorry for the argument," carlos whispered, as he began carefully caressing camilo's head, which surprisingly had already a lot of hair.

"i should be the one apologizing. i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself in the moment." you muttered. camilo's grip on carlos' finger loosened, and he stepped back from the crib to embrace you into his arms. you hugged back tightly, in the end happy your husband was back with you to complete your growing family.

when the worldwide pandemic came about in the beginning of 2020, you were worried for carlos. worried how exposed he was to the sickness. that was until, the formula one season would be postponed until further notice. therefore, carlos went back to spain and although he was still staying in shape and training for when the season would resume, he also took this time to cherish the family bonding with his wife and two sons.

there were small moments, whether it would be playing fútbol with carlitos, both father and son teaching baby camilo how to play, but a baby can only watch. in carlitos' words, "when camilo is older we can team up and score the goals." you would be cooking, feeding your family, having movie nights, or even sometimes when the children would go to sleep early, you and carlos would cook a dinner for the both of you. it was these moments that made you cherish life.

in may, carlos was in talks with a new formula one team seeking him. carlos had accepted the deal, and it was a family celebration when he announced he would be driving for the scarlet red team next season, scuderia ferrari.

however, because of this, another person joined your family. and not in the way you thought. no, carlos' best friend, lando norris. you had not interacted much with the brit, but he seemed like a very funny guy based on interviews and crazy stories your husband would mention.

what lando norris decided, was that he would stay in your house for about a month before he would depart from his 'best mate.' staying as a house guest would later come to mean having another child and baby-ing him. the stay turned to two months, as lando also stayed to celebrate christmas, before he departed to his family for new years. lando meeting carlitos and camilo was wholesome, the brit would teach carlitos about golf, while camilo --who had began walking when he turned a year old-- would waddle the golf balls back to lando and carlitos, as this was his own way of playing with the two.

by the end of lando's stay, he was exclusively "uncle" or "tio lando" to carlitos. and lando spoiled the hell out of carlitos and camilo for christmas.

the 2021 formula one season brought many changes, one including carlos finally convinced you to attend a race. carlitos was not on your side either, as he has wanted to see his papa driving fast cars. it was three against one (as when camilo was also asked if he wanted to attend a race with carros, he would smile and laugh, which father and son took as a yes). you flew to bahrain with carlos and your two sons, and were actually entertained by everything going on in the paddock. carlos' new teammate, charles leclerc, was in awe of your children. carlos never talked about having a wife or even children, so your family entrance definitely turned heads from all around. you spent most of your time with your children, and sometimes accompanied by charles leclerc's girlfriend, charlotte, who also adored your children from the moment she saw them. your little family was cheering on for carlos in red the entire weekend.

however, as the year went by, you felt a shift. of course, family bonding was still there. you tried to hide it, but you felt a change when you were with your husband. sometimes you shrugged off the feeling, not wanting to think too much about it, but you knew. even if it wasn't spoken, your love for carlos had diminished. you almost felt empty inside at times, and maybe you blamed it on how back to back you had children and now that they're growing you just feel the nostalgia. this is what led you to ask your husband in the middle of the night the question.

"do you want to have another baby?"

carlos had turned his head toward you, staring deeply into your eyes. he held the eye contact for a few moments before responding. "i think we are perfectly well with carlitos and camilo, don't you think?"

"but wouldn't you like another one, carlitos keeps asking for a sister," you chuckled. "and our family will be complete."

"our family's already complete," carlos stated in a tone that projected, the conversation's over.

you nodded with a smile that didn't reach your eyes, before kissing his cheek and bidding goodnight. you turned on your side and closed your eyes, not another word spoken for the night. nights where you two would stay up until the next morning, whether it be to feed or change diapers, lay tangled in each other's arms, or just talk nonsense, too delirious to understand what the other would be speaking about. those nights were now a kiss goodnight, or just laying by each other and not speaking a word at all until you two would fall asleep, centimeters separating you both.

attending the grand prix's became a more regular thing, your boys always happy to be following their father, and you always cheering on your husband.

because carlos' good friend, max verstappen, had won his first world championship, he invited you both to celebrate. that night, both you and carlos had too much to drink, and weren't thinking of your decisions.

a month later, you're pregnant again.

carlos said he did not want another child, but what did you want? it was an innocent child's life, one who didn't even have an opportunity to see and experience the world.

you decided on telling carlos over dinner (the good thing is that tradition hasn't ended yet), and you were terrified to see his reaction.

"when did you find out?" carlos asked, taking a sip of his wine. "earlier this morning, i went to the doctor." you answered, trying to rub the sweat off your palms on your pants. "she said i was a month in."

of course, the night of max's celebration. that's the most recent time you have had sex, and before that it had been almost eight.

"i know you said you didn't want another baby, but carlos--" you were cut off by your husband slightly slamming his hands on the table, making you flinch. "you're pregnant, and now we move on with the pregnancy until the baby is born." he got up from the table and grabbed empty plates and silverware before taking them to the washing sink.

"goodnigtht." carlos said before departing to your shared bedroom. you stayed still in your seat, processing what you heard. one thing you were sure of, this baby was not wanted by its father.

the news was later given to your sons that they would become big brothers soon. carlitos jumped up and down in excitement, while camilo, still learning to understand words, only smiled widely.

nine months later, and you had a baby girl. carlos, someway between seven and eight months into the pregnancy, was deciding on girl names. you had chipped in that you wanted a 'c' name, as both your sons had one, so it would be neat if your daughter also had one. after much thought and debating, you both settled for carla. carlos sr and reyes helped calm the debate.

luckily, carlos was home for carla's birth. carlitos and camilo were with their grandparents, but carlitos had insisted he wanted to see his little sister before anyone.

when you and carlos arrived with carla back home, carlitos immediately wanted to hold her, while camilo was staring at her like she was an alien.

over time, carlos and you continued to try to make the family functional. but it started crumbling down, and you knew it was a matter of time.

your daughter was more difficult than how carlitos and camilo had been, so at some instances in the middle of the night carlos would get up from the bed while you were feeding carla and go sleep in the guest bedroom.

you took carla to the paddock earlier in age than you did with your sons. carlos insisted you accompany him, and to bring the entire family. you didn't want to, as carla was still small. but carlos begged and insisted.

the beginning of the 2023 year did not go as you thought it would. you tried hard, you really did, to keep your family in one stand. but carlos wasn't helping.

you tried showing you were a happy family to your children, because you did not want them to go through what you did. which is what made your parents divorce and leave you in the middle of it. you did not want that for your family.

your routine was now: wake up, feed the kids, do chores, feed the kids again, maybe go visit reyes and carlos sr, and if carlos was home take the kids to play, go to sleep. no more traditions, no more nothing.

you weren't happy anymore. you saw carlos wasn't either. it was just routine at this point.

when carlos got the call he was no longer driving at ferrari, he isolated himself. he didn't speak to you, he ignored the children, even his parents. you would be folding laundry and he'd come out of the guest room (which was now declared his) to see if there was food. you would just start cooking after you finished laundry, but he wasn't patient.

"the food isn't ready?!" he would ask agitated. you swallowed hard, not wanting to cry and seem weak. "i'll get started on it in a bit, let me just finish folding these clothes and--"

you would stop speaking because he would grab a jacket and the car keys, and leave without another word. carlitos would be the one to come out of his room, and ask if you were okay.

"yes, i am. dad just went for a pizza." you smiled. carlitos would jump in delight, before running to tell his siblings in the other room. you would grab your phone and order pizza delivery.

2024 was the year you were just exhausted. and the last turning point was after carla's second birthday party. you had both agreed to celebrate her birthday a week before, as carlos would be in baku for a race weekend on her actual day.

the whole day, carlos didn't show up. he didn't show up to his daughter's birthday at all. when you called numerous times, it would send to voicemail. you asked ana and blanca, even his parents, to contact him. it was carlos sr who he answered to. he was training, not even knowing his daughter was waiting for him.

when carlos arrived home well after the party had ended, you didn't direct a word to him.

carlos called out your name. "look, i'm sorry, okay?" you stopped washing the dishes and scoffed looking his way.

"you are apologizing to me? it's your daughter you dissapointed!" you yelled. you knew the children would hear, but that wasn't your current thought process at the moment.

"and i'm just, i'm sick of it all! i'm sick of excuses, i'm sick of you pushing me away, i'm sick of not being good enough for anything anymore!" you aggressively wiped your hands on a towel, before wiping your tear-filled eyes.

"what do you want me to do? be happy when i'm clearly not? fake a happy family when it's far from that?" the last statement was like a puncture to your breaking heart.

all you wanted, was a happy and loving family. you had it for a while, but now that was over. and maybe if you wanted to continue being happy, you had to step away this time.

"i can't be with you anymore." you spit out. carlos widened his eyes, your statement hitting him like a rock. "what?" he managed to blurt out.

"i can't pretend to be a happy family anymore. i won't."

your lawyer grabbed your arm lightly. "hey, are you okay?" he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked and nodded your head.

the judge had decided both you and carlos would share custody of your children. two weeks, they would be with you, the other two carlos would have them. you and carlos would still interact and would need to have 'family bonding' once every month with the children. carla would be the only exception, as until she is five years old she would be able to stay with carlos.

it would be hard learning outside a life you had always known, but you had your children to motivate you. you had supporters, who at the end of the day were your family.

it was a sad, beautiful, tragic love story. one you learned, cried, and were both happy and sad in.

author's note: OH MY GOSH. anyways hope y'all like it mwah. as inspo i was listening to sad beautiful tragic, all too well, tolerate it, and you're not sorry. i definitely prefer smau better than written fics, so expect more of those soonnnn

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #scuderia ferrari #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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arieslost · 2 months

Text

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

Text

White Wedding

His brother was getting married to her sister. Of course they were bound to fall in love - (grumpy x sunshine)

Arthur Leclerc x Reader

limiting the use of y/n in this one, but a few might slip through the cracks

2.5K

"Charles, you're joining the L/N family, God help you."

She threw the cue card to the side. That was lame, she decided as she neatened up the rest of the cue cards. She read the one on the top, sucked in a deep breath, and looked into her mirror. "Charles," she said to herself. "Before you joined our family, I knew nothing about Motorsport. Now, it is your fault that I spend every Sunday on the couch, watching cars go in circles."

Yeah, that was better, much better.

If it wasn't enough that she'd planned her sisters entire wedding, she was now having to write a speech for it. She was the maid of honour and her sister had thrust almost all of the responsibility onto her. She'd done almost everything, with one of the few exceptions being choosing the dress.

The speech she started three weeks before the wedding. That was how long she thought it was going to take to write it. And, at this rate, she was right.

Her phone vibrated on her bed and she rushed to pick it up. Her thumb double tapped against the screen and it lit up, revealing a text from her sister. The wonderful sister who's wedding she'd just spent months planning.

Come meet me and Charles in the café xx

Fine, she sent back and threw her phone back onto the bed. She sucked in a deep breath and went back to practicing the introduction of her speech. "Charles." She held her pause before practicing the rest of her speech.

***

She walked into the café and immediately walked up to the counter. Ordering a simple coffee, she scanned over the tables in the café, searching for her sister and her fiancé.

Ann and Charles had been dating for two years before he popped the question. For the first year he took Ann to as many races as he could, but, in their second year of dating, Ann had to work. She had to save for the wedding. Sure, Charles had money, but Ann wasn't going to let him spend every penny he had on them. She wanted to pay what she could towards the wedding.

Being the great sister she was, Y/N agreed to watch it with her sister. She sat on the couch with her every single Sunday, no matter the time of day, to watch Charles drive.

Her name was called and she grabbed her coffee from the counter. After locating Ann, Charles, and somebody she had yet to meet, she walked over and sat herself in the empty seat.

"Hi love," Ann said the moment she sat down. She smiled politely at her sister and offered her a bite of cookie.

She refused politely and sipped her coffee as she looked around the table. "Who is this?" She asked. It may have come across as rude, but she was so burnt out from planning the wedding that she didn't much care.

"This is my brother, Arthur," Charles said as he threw his arm around the man sat next to him.

As soon as Charles said it, she could see it. They looked so alike, they could have almost be twins. "He's my best man." Arthur gave her a dimpled smile.

She turned her attention to Arthur. He was handsome, sure, but she was far too concentrated on the wedding to notice anything like that. "You're in charge of the bachelor party?" She asked and had a sip of coffee. "What've you got planned?"

Ann rolled her eyes as she covered her ears. In a hushed voice, Arthur told her his plans for the bachelor party. It was basic and not what she expected for the Charles Leclerc, but if that was what he wanted, that was what he was going to get.

"Is your date already included in the numbers and has she said what's she's eating?" She asked as she pulled her notebook from her bag. Her entire life was wedding planning at this point.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't have a date," he said, his cheeks dusted pink.

"Brilliant," she muttered under her breath. Immediately she realised what she'd said, but she didn't mean it that way. Him not bringing a date just made everything less complicated. "And how is your speech coming along?"

It was crazy how obsessed this girl was with a wedding that wasn't her own. Arthur looked at his brother and then back at the girl. "It's coming along," he said and she noted something down in her notebook.

She went into the back of her notebook, wrote something down, ripped it out, and passed it to Arthur. "My number. Send me a picture of the groomsmen suits when you've got a chance," she said stood up.

She sent them a polite goodbye and walked out of the cafe. Ann, Arthur and Charles watched them go. "Sorry about her," said Ann as she turned to Arthur. "She's just stressed about the wedding."

The wedding that wasn't hers.

***

It was three in the morning, two weeks before the wedding. She was supposed to be fast asleep, but she was still practicing her speech. Her now finished speech.

Her phone vibrated on her bed, and it didn't stop.

Arthur L

He had no contact picture attached; she didn't know him well enough yet. She swiped her finger across the screen and pressed her phone to her ear. "It's three in the morning, this better be good," she said in quiet voice, like there was somebody she was trying not to wake up. In reality, her walls were thin in her shitty apartment and her neighbours were quick to anger.

"Y/N? IT'S ARTHUR!" The youngest Leclerc shouted. She pulled the phone away from her ear from the sheer volume of it. "LECLERC? MY BROTHER IS MARRYING YOUR SISTER?"

"Yeah, Arthur, I know who you are."

"DO YOU THINK YOU COULD PICK CHARLES AND I UP FROM THE CLUB? WE'RE A BIT DRUNK!"

That much she could already tell. "Fucking hell," she mumbled under her breath. "Tell me the name of the club," she said as she pulled on her hoodie and sweats.

That was how she found herself parked herself outside of the club as an incredibly drunk Arthur tried to get an even more drunk Charles into the back of her car. "God, you both stink," she said as Arthur climbed into the front of the car with her.

"Yeah, things got a bit out of hand," Arthur said as he turned on the radio.

Suddenly Charles was sitting up on the back seat. He bounced in his seat and sang along to the music playing from the radio. "Charles, Charles," Arthur said as he reached back for his brother, trying to get him to calm down.

She switched off the radio and Charles immediately calmed down. He slumped down in his seat, his eyes distant as he stared out of the window.

She made a decision then and there to take the Leclerc brothers back to her apartment. They could sleep in her bed while she slept on the couch. It was better than them dying in some stupid, drunken mishap two weeks before the wedding.

Arthur frowned as she pulled into the parking complex beneath her apartment. "Where are we?" He asked as she pulled into a parking space and put the car into park.

She killed the engine, opened her door and pulled Charles out of the back. "Can you walk on your own?" She asked him as she slung Charles's arm over her shoulders. Arthur nodded and she dragged Charles over to the elevator.

As they walked, Arthur grabbed Charles's other side and helped her to walk him up to her apartment. As soon as they were inside, she dropped him on the couch and went to the kitchen to get him some water.

When she returned, Arthur was talking to his brother. It was hushed and in French and she had no idea what he was saying. But Charles nodded under his breath. When his eyes moved to Y/N, Arthur stopped talking and sat beside his brother, holding his up as she handed him water.

After he had finished the water, she and Arthur worked together to get Charles into bed. They kept him in his boxers and pulled the blankets over his body.

Once they had made sure he was sleeping on his stomach, she and Arthur left the room. They returned to the living and, exhausted, the two of them sat on the sofa.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his head against the back of the sofa. "I didn't want to call Ann."

"I get it," she said as she pulled her legs beneath her. "My sister isn't the most responsible and she probably would have just joined the two of you. Why do you think I'm planning the wedding?"

She said the last part quietly, and Arthur snapped his head towards her. "Yeah, why are you planning the wedding?"

She played with his fingers, refusing to meet his eyes. "If Ann was planning the wedding, it wouldn't be happening," she said.

"That's unfair, isn't it?"

She shook her head. It didn't matter if it was unfair, she'd do anything for her big sister. "If Charles wanted something so bad but couldn't do it himself, wouldn't you do it for him?"

She stood and grabbed a blanket. "You can sleep in here," she said and passed him the blanket. Arthur gave her a grateful smile and laid the blanket over his body as she walked into her office.

***

Arthur hadn't left her alone since that night.

She wasn't complaining about the constant messages, even if she did have to mute him sometimes. And then when he'd bring her food while she caught up on the work that she'd missed while she'd been planning the wedding.

They spent more time together than she expected. He was annoying, and she didn't mind.

Two days before the wedding and she was incredibly stressed. Arthur could tell, and he knew he had to do something about it.

He turned up to her apartment with the nastiest, greasiest pizza available. For a man so healthy, it came as a great surprise when she opened the door to see it. "Is this serious?" She asked as she stepped to the side to let him in.

"Incredibly serious," he said as he sat on her sofa.

She looked at the pizza. "You know I have a dress to fit into, right?"

"If you can't fit into your dress, I won't be able to fit into suit."

He held out his hand and Y/N shook it. She sat beside him and grabbed her first slice of pizza, taking a moment to relax. "We have the rehearsal tomorrow," she muttered between slices. "I shouldn't be this stressed about a wedding that isn't mine."

"I'd hate to see you on your own wedding," Arthur muttered as he grabbed another slice.

"Who says you're invited."

He held his hand over his heart, offended. Or faking it. "You really think you could live without me?"

She shook her head as she leaned against him and, between them they finished the pizza.

Arthur never slept over. It would have been too weird for Ann and Charles, she reasoned every time she walked him to the front door. But, this time he stopped before he could walk out of the door. "Let me take you to the wedding," he said. "We can sit together and dance together and have a really good time," he said, leaning against the door frame.

She frowned. "Won't our families find that a bit weird?"

"Who cares?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Okay. As future siblings in law, okay."

She shut the door on him and went to bed, but she didn't sleep. The rehearsal was the next day and she was stressed. The L/N family, the Leclerc family, and all of the bride and grooms friends would be there, judging everything she'd spent the last few months doing. Ann would be judging everything she'd done for her wedding.

At the rehearsal dinner, Arthur swapped name cards so that he and Y/N were sat beside each other. She didn't mind, had laughed as he did so. It might have been the first time he'd seen her laugh.

She'd organised the speeches and which order everybody was going in. Charles first, as the groom, and then Y/N, and then Arthur. They had very few speeches, since Ann had said their father wasn't allowed to make a speech.

Lets cut to the ceremony. It was beautiful. She had made sure every had coordinated, that the bridesmaid dresses had complimented the flowers and the groomsmen ties had matched the bridesmaid dresses.

Her own dress was a slightly deeper colour than the bridesmaid dresses. As soon as she had shown it to Arthur, he made sure that his tie matched her dress.

The actual ceremony was beautiful. There were tears, which led to Ann panicking about her makeup. Charles held her as she went from his wife-to-be to his wife. As she went from Ann L/N to Ann Leclerc.

When it came to the speeches, suddenly Y/N couldn't do it. Charles had made his speech, finishing to a round of applause. But then it came time for her speech.

She sat there for a moment, her eyes wide. Arthur nudged her with his elbow and she shook her head. "Arthur, I can't," she said, staring straight ahead. Her speech was on the cue cards on her plate.

"Yes you can," Arthur said. "If you don't, you'll regret it."

But she still wasn't moving.

So, Arthur stood up. "My name is Arthur Leclerc and I'm French!" There was a collective round of booing (mostly from Charles). "And the sister of the bride has something she wants to say."

He sat back back down as Y/N stood up and glared at him. He was an asshole and she was going to kill him. But still, she made her speech and sat back down. "I'm gonna kill you," she whispered to Arthur as she set her cards down. But she couldn't be happier that she had actually made the speech.

She and Arthur danced together. Just as they said they would, they danced to the slow songs, danced to the fast songs, and had the best time together. "Thank you," she said as they danced together, swaying from side to side as they wrapped their arms around each other.

"For what?" He asked with him dimply smile as he looked down at her.

She sucked in a deep breath as she laid her head against his chest. "You've helped make today perfect," she said, closing her eyes. She reached up and kissed his cheek. "You're wonderful, Arthur Leclerc."

"You're wonderful, Y/N L/N."

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc smut #arthur leclerc x reader smut #f2 #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #formula two #formula two imagine #formula two x reader #formula one #f1

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foreveralbon · 4 months

Text

icebreaker

break the tension, break the records, i guess?

“hi. my name is y/n, but my family and friends like to call me ‘missy’. um. uh, i like chocolates, bunnies… chocolate bunnies. and i read sometimes, when i’m not racing. oh yeah! i’m also the newest driver on the formula one grid. almost forgot that part, hah.” - y/n button

get to know y/n, alpha tauri’s newest driver and 2023’s 4th (and hopefully last) rookie!

☆✩☆

she was one of the most - if not the most - anticipated and awaited entry into motorsports ever since her debut in f3

she’s normally called “missy” because of her childhood nickname given to her by jenson (and later adopted by her other grid dads and friends)

she’s also called “paddock princess” sometimes because of her sweet persona that was always seen when she was a little girl

she was born an only child in 2001, but since she spent a lot of time around other drivers in the 2000s, mick schumacher eventually became her “brother”

they did everything almost everything together, from karting to simply just growing up

they’re only two years apart in age but he progressed into formula racing long before she did, and they never had the opportunity to properly race against each other

it’s because, as per her mother’s wishes, she chose to do professional modelling instead of joining professional racing, only to realise she was miserable doing it

she returned to racing with the number 15, the same one she’s used since her karting days

in her first year of f3 with prema in 2019, she climbed up to sixth place and for her final and second year, she managed p2 in the championship

she was signed on as a red bull junior driver, before moving on to be their reserve in 2022

for formula 2, she moved to mp motorsport, racing alongside clement novalak

in 2021, she ended the season with a fourth place finish, but would eventually take home the crown the next year

she spent 2023 as a reserve driver for red bull and alpha tauri, and when nyck de vries got sacked, it was her alpha tauri chose to fill in for his seat

her performance was so good - she was raking in points the team didn’t even know they were capable of scoring

she would be offered a year long contract to race in f1 full time, the first woman and female points-finisher in formula one since lella lombardi

she was given the opportunity to choose her own personal sponsor out of a bunch of people who wanted to sponsor her, and though she initially wanted a cosmetic brand, she chose cartier

she may be on the more minimalist side when it comes to style, but she loves to stay true to her nickname of paddock princess by dressing up in nice skirts or dresses and stacking her wrists with both normal and friendship bracelets

though she loves racing, there’s nothing she hates more than its socialising aspect

she’d rather keep to herself in a little corner with only the people she’s familiar with, like fernando, mick and occasionally oscar, lando and logan

she’s asked multiple times if media day is actually compulsory, and she’s been busted even more for faking an illness to get out of it

and despite her reserved nature, her favourite thing to do is keep everyone on their toes - the switch from karting to modelling back to racing, to being a reserve driver to having a full-time seat is only a fraction of her determination and success

☆✩☆

series masterlist | general masterlist

@luckyladycreator2 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @storminacloud @ironmaiden1313 @hiireadstuff @starssfall @leilanixx @gwginnyweasley @juniper-july19 @myxticmoon @darleneslane @wcnorris @whoselly @landosgirlxoxo @disneyprincemuke @namgification @mellowarcadefun @sam-is-lost let me know if you’d like to be added to the series taglist!

#liyah writes #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #mick schumacher x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #lando norris x reader #born from two stars

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formulaforza · 9 months

Note

💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

939 notes · View notes

redbullgirly · 4 months

Note

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly.

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat. You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)

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thisisyourdriverspeaking · 6 days

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The series is back in Monaco this weekend so here is motorsport number twos... the F2 version. Enjoy 😊

Juan Manuel Correra (9th August 1999) & Ritomo Miyata (10th August 1999) - Alice Deejay - Better Off Alone

Kush Maini (22nd September 2000) - Kylie Minogue - On A Night Like This

Richard Verschoor (16th December 2000) - S Club 7 - Never Had A Dream Come True

Victor Martins (16th June 2001) - DJ Pied Piper - Do You Really Like It?

Enzo Fittipaldi (18th July 2001) - D12 - Purple Pills

Rafael Villagomez (10th November 2001) - Mary J.Blige - Family Affair

Amaury Cordeel (9th July 2002) - Red Hot Chilli Peppers - By The Way

Dennis Hauger (17th March 2003) - Jennifer Lopez ft LL Cool J - All I Have

Franco Colapinto (27th May 2003) - Justin Timberlake - Rock Your Body

Zane Maloney (2nd October 2003) - The Darkness - I Believe In a Thing Called Love

Joshua Durksen (27th October 2003) - Blue - Guilty

Paul Aron (9th February 2004) - Kelis - Milkshake

Roman Stanek (25th February 2004) - Sam & Mark - With A Little Help From My Friends

Taylor Barnard (1st June 2004) - Kelis - Trick Me

Isack Hadjar (28th September 2004) - Girls Aloud - Love Machine

Gabriel Bortoleto (14th October 2004) - Eric Prydz - Call On Me

Zak O'Sullivan (6th February 2005) - Elvis Presley - Are You Lonesome Tonight

Jak Crawford - (2nd May 2005) - Snoop Dogg, Charlie Wilson & Justin Timberlake - Signs

Ollie Bearman (8th May 2005) - Tony Christie ft Peter Kay - (Is This The Way To) Amarillo

Pepe Marti (13th June 2005) - U2 - City of Blinding Lights

Kimi Antonelli (25th August 2006) - Chamillionaire ft Krayzie Bone - Ridin'

Added to this playlist 😊

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moonlightdarlings · 10 months

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be your star | l.norris

a/n: ahh my first insta au! i'm kinda new with these but i had an idea while drinking my cold coffee so :) i hope you enjoy these and let me know if i should do more/less of these

part two

---💌---

pairing: ricciardo!sister x lando norris

summary: in which daniel's sister finally shows up at the grand prix and well...things happen

fc: jennie kim

y/n_.ricciardo

liked by landonorris, daniel3.jpg, maxverstappen1, yourbestie, and 4,800,135 others

y/n_.ricciardo: 🫶🏼 love to be home with red bull to watch my big bro slay on track

545 comments

yourbestie: you didn't even bring me along 😫 smh

redbullracing: happy to have the Ricciardo family back

danielricciardo: lmao but i saw you ditch the Redbull garage to go talk to lando👀

fan4: not daniel exposing his own sister😭

dr3fan: OMG? the queen herself graces the paddock 😌

landolover: she's such an icon

-----

landonorris

liked by y/n_.ricciardo, carlossainz55, yourbestie, and 2,345,000 others

landonorris: P2 BABY! woo let's party tonight 🎉🍾

view all comments

mclaren: yes! we're a proud papaya fam today

carlossainz55: much deserved little lando 😌

fan2: carlos calling him "little lando" awww landolover: it's so cute

y/n_.ricciardo: he's so dreamy *sighs in awe*

danielricciardo: he's w h a t now danielricciardo: y/n! you can't just say that and dip 😭

dr3fan: not daniel having a crisis over what y/n said

y/nfan: she's so real for that

----

BREAKING IN F1

Daniel Ricciardo's younger sister, Y/n has announced herself as a sponsor for the Mclaren F1 team. She's recently admitted, "I'm proud to have my brand, Gentle Monster, in the pinnacle of motorsport. I think it's important for more girls to put themselves in the spotlight. I'm extremely honored to be partnering with Mclaren and I can't wait to see both my brand and the team go to new heights."

When asked what influenced her to partner with Mclaren instead of her brother's team, Alpha Tauri, she simply responded, "Just felt right."

Both Daniel and Y/n's fans are on opposite sides because she recently posted that Red Bull was her family. One would think that due to that, she'd want to have her brand on the number one car currently. In a recent Instagram live with Mclaren, she spoke up about not choosing Red Bull, saying, "You know, I was never really close with Red Bull but I've always been a fan of Lando Norris since my brother introduced us a few years back. Of course, I haven't been in the paddock for some time as I've been busy with deals and my brand, but I will say I do have the Lego version of Mclaren's Formula car."

---

a/n: should i do a part two?? it feels right to do a part two, but either way, i really really hope you all enjoyed this <3 please let me know if this was good or not 🫶🏼

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #daniel riccardo imagine #f1 drivers imagine #f1 drivers x reader

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leclucklerc · 8 months

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Check Point MV1 - 01. Product of Glory

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Actress!Reader

Summary: She should've realized that coming back to Formula One after quitting the sport years ago is a bad idea. Especially considering that most of your childhood friends and rivals from your karting days are now in the paddock.

Word Count: 4.2k

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Weekends had always been her favorite part of the week.

Besides the fact that it's a time when there's no school, weekends had always been more special. When she was younger, weekends means that she’s going to watch her dad race. To feel the thrill of Formula One as she cheered for the man on the red car. Weekend means going to a dinner with her parents, still high from her dad win and spending the night laughing and spending time together.

When her dad decided to retire from motorsport, weekends mean another thing.

Weekend means racing.

Though this time it’s not her dad in a red car who race. This time it’s her who’s racing. It’s her who goes on top of kart and race against people her age. It’s her who got cheered on. It’s her, who will bring a smile on her dad face as he saw her with pride clear on his eyes.

Y/n loves weekends.

“Hi,” greeted the girl, smile wide and eyes crinkling. “Good race, huh?”

The blue-eyed boy furrowed his eyebrows at her while the other one, a dark haired one, let out a small smile at that. She could feel the stare that they directed towards the trophy on her hand. No doubt jealous at the number one engraved on it.

It only made her giggle, as she proudly showed it towards the two boys.

The three of them are now huddled in a corner somewhere in the karting track, adrenaline still high from the race earlier and hair still wet from all the sweat under their helmet. They still could hear the hustle and bustle from the crowd that had attended the race this weekend. The distant sound of chatters and karting engine.

It had been a tough race, a race where the three of them shoved each other on the track. Each trying to gain better position from the others. Each, trying to become the winner of the race.

Though, despite all of that, in this small corner, they felt that there’s only the three of them in this world. There is no strict parents, heavy expectations, or uncertain futures. In this little corner, there are only the three of them. The three champions with too much talent and boundless possibilities for their future.

“You’re only saying that cause you beat us,” said the dark haired one in a heavily accented English. Well, to be fair, all of them are speaking in a heavily accented English, considering y/n too mainly talked in French with her parents. "If you had lost you would've been crying right now."

"Psh, I'm not a crybaby like you guys," she laughed it off.

"I'm not a crybaby!"

Said girl grin only widened before she sat in front of the two boys. The trophy still clutched tightly as she adjusted it on her lap, not wanting to break it.

“Sore loser,” teased the girl. “You look like you want to fight me when I passed you in the last lap,” this part was directly directed towards the blue-eyed boy who had been moodily staring at her since the start.

“I did not” muttered the boy, also answering in a heavily accented English. Though, the accent is different from the previous boy and hers. He began leaning back towards the stack of wheels behind them. “I just don’t like losing.”

“Who likes losing?” asked back the dark haired one as he fiddled with his helmet on his hand. “I don’t.”

“No one,” agreed on the girl with a nod of her head. Inside of her head, she could already imagine all of the headlines and news if she ever performed badly in a race. Accusations of her being untalented to the blatant questioning if she’s her father daughter.

She can’t lose.

There is no way she can allow herself to lose.

“If we want to make it to Formula 1, we have to hate losing,” continue the girl as she sat in front of the two boys. "It's all about the mentality y'know?"

“Y/n is right,” said the dark-haired boy, nodding. “Also, my dad is not that happy if I got second place, so I really should win.”

“What Charles said,” said the girl. “Pretty sure my dad will also be disappointed if I don’t win a race.”

The other boy, Max, nodded his head sulkily. He doesn’t need to say how upset his father would be if he ever loses because both y/n and Charles knew that already.

Jos Verstappen, after all, is a terrifying figure.

While of course both Charles’s dad and y/n’s dad would be disappointed if they had a bad race, they would never throw a literal temper tantrum to them. They would console the both of them because they know, no matter how disappointed they are, the one that is the most disappointed is the children themselves. Instead of anger, they would offer them ice cream and advice. They would offer a shoulder to cry to and ears to ramble to. Max dad on the other hand-

(“Why did you lose?” asked Jos Verstappen, tone grave and eyes glaring daggers at the boy in fronf of him. He looks terrifying. Like a giant ready to stomp on those under him.

Max trembled, not daring to stare at the older man. “I-“ he started. “I-“ he desperately tried to get the words out. To force his throat to talk and explain and yet, no matter how much he tried, he just cant. As if, his body is refusing to even defy the man in front of him.

Y/n watched, heart trembling as she hid behind a building near them. Too scared to help and yet, at the same time she desperately wants to help her best friend.

But her feet just won’t move. Rooted on her spot as she silently watches the conftoration unfolds.

Coward.)

He’s terrifying. From the way he would yell at Max or the glare that he would throw to everyone in the room. From his large stature to the way he never looked that happy to see Max hanging out with y/n or Charles.

The three of them had basically grow up together with racing. Y/n doesn’t even remember when was the first time was the three of them had ended up in the same race, all she knows, one way or another, they had been racing against each other for the longest time.

It has always been the three of them on the podium. The three of them against the world. Sometimes y/n wins, sometimes Max wins, sometimes Charles wins. Her father had once said that the three of them is taking turn for the first place.

Before she knew it, she had become close with her two rivals.

(A lot of time, y/n would feel a bit guilty if she won first place. Because she knew what would happen to Max. She knew that his dad doesn’t like to see him in second place.

Though alas, the drug called winning is an addicting one. Moreso when you’re not mature enough to realize the consequences of your actions. Moreso, when you still watched the world through a rose-tinted glass.)

They’re her closest friends. The very first people that she talked to and confide to. It’s them against the world. It’s their dream against everything in the world.

Even though they live in three different countries – Max in the Netherlands, Charles in Monaco, and y/n in France – she felt as if they’re always with each other. Maybe it’s the frequent phone calls or maybe it’s the holidays that their family often arranged together.

No matter what it is, she can always say confidently that both max and Charles is her best friends.

“Do you think we’re going to make it to formula one?” asked Max after a while, a thoughtful frown tugging his lips down. The silence between the three of them had been a bit unusual, though it’s not an uncomfortable one.

Both Charles and y/n exchanged a glance. “What? Are you doubting yourself?” said y/n, raising her eyebrows.

Max shook his head. “No, I’m doubting the both of you.”

Y/n and Charles hit his arm playfully.

“Rude,” huffed out y/n. “As if you’re going to enter Formula One before me.”

“You will never enter Formula One if you still have that kind of sloppy overtake- ouch! Stop hitting me!” complained Max as the girl continue to hit his shoulder playfully.

The girl rolled her eyes. “That’s what you get for doubting my skill.”

"I won't be doubting your skill if you can actually kart properly-"

"You're so mean!"

Immediately after that, a laugh rang out. Both y/n and Max turned their head towards Charles who was laughing at them. Oddly, the both of them too started to laugh soon. The previously tense atmosphere from the earlier conversation gone as they enjoyed the moment together.

Truly, they looked like children their age here. Not someone who has a too heavy expectations and fame that’s threatening to consume her. Not someone with uncertain future and the desperation to show the world his talent. Not someone, with a father who doesn’t know to be a dad.

In this moment, the three of them are just children playing around. Something that they hardly did with all of the burdens that they have to bear despite their young age.

After a while, the laughter ceased, and the atmosphere had lightened up considerably. They looked relaxed, as they shared smiles with each other.

“We’re going to formula one, obviously,” said Charles, grinning. “We’re so good at karting!”

The way he said it was full of conviction without a hint of doubt. It made Max and y/n believed in him. As if, the case of them being a formula one driver is not a matter of if, but a when. That it’s only a matter of time before all three of them would drive for the top teams in Formula One.

It made her believe an almost impossible possibility.

Of her, still racing with her friends. Of her, making her dad proud with it. Of her, still sharing the camera with her mother.

A future with endless possibilities that she looked forward to.

“For sure,” grinned y/n. “We’ll make it to Formula one and we’ll race in Monaco!”

“Yeah!”

Though, back then, the three of them doesn’t know that yes. That dream will only stay as a simple childish dream.

Y/n l/n is many things.

She’s one of the most famous celebrities in Hollywood, the highest paid actress for the last few years. She has won Oscars, many times. Emmys, also many times, and other acting awards that could possibly exist in the planet. She's a fashion icon, an ambassador of many fashion houses and jewelries. She's a charming woman, someone that can get everybody's attention by just entering the room.

Y/n l/n is the talk of the town now.

Well, it’s not like that she’s not the talk of the town before. As one of most recognizable celebrity on earth, it’s normal for people to gossips and talked about her. Every now and then, her name would sit at the top of the trending topic. So, being the talk of the town is not something new to her. Now though, the reason why she’s even mentioned so much lately is the now viral video of her in her Jimmy Kimmel interview.

Y/N L/N ALMOST BECOMES A FORMULA ONE DRIVER?

2,5 million views. Posted 1d ago.

She whistled at the number.

“It really is a good promotion,” said Andrew, her manager as he scrolled past his iPad. “We can cut the marketing budget for Product of Glory a bit,” he continued., sounding a bit pleased at that. “The producer is really thankful for that.”

The two of them is sitting on y/n’s living room, monitoring the public response from her appearance in Jimmy Kimmel. Besides Andrew, she could also see her private assistant walking around the house, no doubt doing an errand that she had asked beforehand. Though besides that, the mansion is quiet.

“Pay me more then,” laughed the female as she looked up from her phone. “I revealed my dark past for everyone to enjoy after all.”

“Well, I thank you for revealing your dark past or whatever," muttered the male, not even looking up from his iPad. "It will bring a lot of buzz to the movie considering well-“

“Considering it’s a movie about my parents?” asked y/n, raising her eyebrow.

“Well yeah,” agreed the man. "And it's also about Formula One, so it's related."

In hindsight, y/n really do think that there is no way her newest movie – Product of Glory – will be a failure. After all, it’s a high budgeted movie with star studded cast and an experienced director. The reason why she’s even taking the role was because it has an amazing script, something that will bring some kind of Oscar buzz surely.

Besides that, the movie is about Formula One. Mainly, the love story between a Formula One legend and Hollywood icon back in the 80’s and 90’s. The turbulence romance between a high-profile athlete and a high-profile actress. Both were at the top of their respective fields, making their relationship basically the power couple of the entertainment and the sport industry.

Before David and Victoria Beckham were even a thing, Reynold and Nicole l/n were the couple. The wet dream of every tabloid back in the day. With that kind of history, it has enough noise to make people anticipates the movie.

And then, the main actress of the movie and the daughter of Nicole l/n went into the Jimmy Kimmel show and shocked the world.

It didn’t take a lot of time for people to verify that information and confirm that yes, y/n l/n is telling the truth and yes, y/n l/n got a really successful karting career back then. So successful that she was part of the Ferrari driver’s academy back in the day. So successful that she actually raced with so many famous names. Names that is now currently racing at the pinnacle of motorsport.

Without her now viral clip, many had put high expectation for the movie. Now, after revealing her almost career choice, people practically salivate at the thought of watching the movie.

“Is this good for my image?” she asked, finger thumbing around the video and yet she didn’t click on it. Should she watch it?

Truthfully, revealing her karting past is not something that she had planned before. The Jimmy Fallon team didn't even told her that it's a topic that they will brought up during the interview. Imagine her shock when said host brought out a photo from her karting days.

Memories of that time had resurfaced almost immediately. Things that she wants to bury and forget.

It had made her nervous, heels clicking on the carpeted floor as she tried to think on what she should do. Her exit from the world of motorsport had been really abrupt after all. There are so many things left unsaid, so many things that she should've brought closure to.

And yet she didn't.

So she had retell the tale of her karting journey. Of how she had decided that acting is more of her thing compared to racing. That in the end, her heart lies on playing a character in front of a camera. Like a mindless puppet.

“An amazing one,” said Andrew. “People really like the contrast of being an actress and a racing driver,” continue the man. “And Formula One is really popular right now, almost rivaling soccer, so it’s a huge boost for your image.”

“My dad will love it,” said y/n, letting out a dry chuckle. “I swear he’s a bit bitter when I chose acting years ago.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “The great Reynold l/n being bitter? Hard to imagine,” said the man. “He always seems friendly and easygoing.”

“It’s cause you know him after he retired from his racing career,” answered the female. “Mom likes to say that dad used to be a huge asshole when he was still active. Well, an asshole that she really likes so she just thought it was hot.”

The male let out laugh at that, amused. “Anyway, because of the interview, people are expecting you to be in the Miami GP this year,” he said. “A lot of people had thought that you were attending last year.”

“I was filming in Switzerland,” answered the female in order to defend herself. Truthfully, it’s not a good defense, considering the filming is not something mandatory. Y/n was just searching for a reason to skip Miami GP last year. She knows it and Andrew too knows it.

“Right,” said Andrew, not sounding convinced the slightest. “Mercedes and Red Bull had actually asked you to join them as a guest,” he continue as he showed her an email that he had received from both teams. “They seem pretty enthusiastic about that.”

Mercedes and Red Bull.

Bad idea.

Y/n sighed, “I’m attending with my dad, so it’s obvious that I’m going to go to the Ferrari garage.” Well, it’s not like Ferrari is a better option. But at least she will have a shield there, namely her dad.

Andrew hummed. “Well, I just thought that you maybe want to avoid both Red Bull and Ferrari garage.”

And isn’t that another can of worms that she has to open?

Tapping her feet – a nervous tick of hers – she let her mind wander to all the possibilities that she could encounter during the Grand Prix. She knows that attending a race is a bad idea. A really bad one considering she knows almost everyone on the grid.

It’s a bad idea and y/n knows it.

She really really knows it.

An image of a blond- and dark-haired boy appeared inside of her head. Of them racing together, of them spending their holidays together. Of them, laughing and enjoying each other company.

“Ugh,” groaned the female. “I don’t fucking know, okay?”

“Well, you better think about it,” said Andrew, closing his iPad as he stared at her. “Because the Miami GP is happening soon, and I really need to confirm your attendance to the teams.”

Y/n gave him a thumbs up, mulling about her decision.

Maybe y/n had regretted her decision to choose acting over racing, once upon a time.

But that was during a hard time of her life, during the weird period where she’s oftentimes considered too old for a child role but too young for an adult role. It was during the time where the phrase nepo-baby were stuck into her like a parasite, sucking her life force more and more as she continues to live in the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles with rows and rows of failed auditions behind her.

Her mother had told her once that you will be happy if you excel at your job. That you will find happiness only when you managed to find success at the thing that you do.

She agrees on that, considering that she had never looked back on racing the moment she won her first Oscar as a lead actress at the tender age of 18.

Now, seven years after that, y/n never even thought about formula one besides when she’s watching the race with her father.

“So close-!” Exclaimed her father as he leaned forward, eyes trained towards the heated race between Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. “Ah, he really needs to brake here or-!”

Y/n almost winced as she watched how the Red bull and Ferrari almost crashed with each other.

“Dad,” she called out, reaching towards the older man who will certainly fall from the sofa with how he leaned forward. “Relax dad, you’ll fall at this rate,” said the female as she tugged the man back.

Her dad let out a huff. “Seriously!” he let out. “Ferrari really need to get the world champion this year! Charles is leading the driver championship but they’re only at the second place in the constructor and Mattia really need to get their shittogether at this point!”

“I know, I know,” she said. “You can tell Mattia directly during the Miami GP, no?”

“Obviously I will.”

The female let out an amused snort at that.

Formula One had been going into a new direction as of late, something that her father had been really excited about. Last year, during the 2021 season, Max Verstappen managed to place first in the World’s Driver Championship. Ending Lewis Hamilton seven consecutive title. While Mercedes managed to still win the Constructor Championship, y/n really can’t help but thought that this was the beginning of a new era in the sport.

When last year Miami GP had come around, her father had practically jumped around in excitement. Y/n gets it though, after moving to LA after his retirement in order to fully support his wife career and help raising y/n, the man had never really had many chances to go back to his racing roots.

That’s why every time a new Formula One season came around; her father would always make sure that he’ll watch almost every race.

The current grid of Formula One is a bit different, in her humble opinion. After all, there is so much young and talented drivers racing right now.

From Red Bull’s newest golden boy to Ferrari’s ‘Il Predestinato’.

Her father had thought that the nickname was fitting for the Monegasque, had praised Ferrari’s decision to put him in the team with Sebastian Vettel back in 2019. He had praised when Max debuted in Toro Rosso back in 2015, just one year after his admittance to Red Bull Junior Program and y/n’s retirement from the world of racing.

He had praised them more considering that both had also been her childhood best friends.

Had been.

“Max and Charles were asking for you,” said the man as they watched Charles’s red Ferrari won the Australian Grand Prix. Y/n really can’t help the proud feeling that’s settling inside of her chest. Something similar to what she had felt almost one year ago as she watched the race in Abu Dhabi. “Back in Bahrain.”

“Well,” started the female. “It’s not like I never talked to them anymore.”

“Max said you replied to his messages once a week,” continue the man. “And you always refused their holiday invitations every off season or summer break.”

“Well,” started the female again, readying to defend herself. “I just think it’s a bit awkward, I don’t even know their friends.”

“How about that time when they visited me here? Why did you leave as soon as they arrived?” proved her father further, referring to last year when both Max and Charles had visited him just before Miami GP.

“Back then I was-“ Though, she came short. “Uh- I really don’t have anything to say about that.”

She remembered all the countless invitations and messages that was left on read. All of the missed calls, or even the dry group chat that they had between the three of them.

It’s a bit painful to look at. To see what their relationship had become. To see, the relationship crumbled and destroyed under her hand.

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? She really doesn’t have any reason to ignore her childhood friends one-sidedly for years.

Her father stared at her. “You know, it’s not fair to you, and to the both of them,” continue the man as he turned his attention back on the television. “I think the last time you met either of them was back in 2018, when Charles was about to debut in Formula One.”

She really doesn’t have any excuse for that.

After all, the three of them had been inseparable since their karting days. With how often they had raced against each other, it’s only normal for them to eventually bond and make friends with each other. Charles or Max had once said that there’s no way both would even be friends if there’s no y/n to be the middleman amidst their fierce rivalry.

They had spent summers and holidays together, their parents knew each other, they had supported each other racing career.

Regarding their fallout, y/n likes to think that it’s only normal for childhood friends to not become friends with each other over the years. That it’s normal for them to find better friends or better environments compared to their restricted childhood.

Though, y/n is also painfully aware that their fallout was not because of that.

They’re still each other closest confidants. They’re still each other biggest supporters. They’re still each other best friends.

The reason why they became like this, was because, y/n decided to back away.

Maybe it was regret or maybe it was the guilt that’s eating her away. Maybe it’s because what happened back in 2014 in Monaco or maybe it’s because what happened in the 2015 Australian Grand Prix. There are a lot of things that she must unpack regarding her past in Formula One and instead to do all of that, she decided to run away.

A bit embarrassing, but that’s what she did best. Always running away. Always, avoiding her problems one way or another.

Max used to call her out about that. This ugly habit of hers that absolutely refuses conflict and choose the easiest way out.

“Are you going to attend this year GP?” asked her father after a few minutes of silence. “I know you had mentioned that you’re going to attend it, but are you sure?”

“I want to talk to you about that actually,” said the girl. “Because well, I know you will watch from Ferrari and I actually got invited to both Mercedes and Red Bull, but like you know how I will always try to avoid Ferrari and Red Bull-“

“Breath, darling,” said her dad, stopping her rant. “Breath.”

She took a deep breath. “I know,” said the woman. “I was panicking. A bit.”

Her father hummed at that; amusement clear on his face. “Well, I must say, that I’m glad that the time finally came.”

“What time?”

“For you to talk to Max and Charles again,” replied the older man. “I’m a bit tired to become the messenger bird for the three of you again.”

“Funny,” she lets out. “It’s going to be so awkward when it’s been years since is stared avoiding them.”

“Completely your fault.”

“I know.”

Silence fell between the two of them. On the television, the post-race interview began playing. Charles’s face appeared first as he began narrating today’s race and singing praises to the car this weekend.

“Do you think we can be friends again?” asked y/n finally in a small voice.

His dad turned towards her. “Darling, I don’t think the three of you ever stopped being friends.”

It’s the 2022 Miami Grand Prix.

It’s the 2022 Miami Grand Prix and y/n l/n is staring at Max Verstappen who also seemed shocked at her presence.

“Uh-“ she started. “Hi?”

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leviscolwill · 9 months

Text

sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.

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