#— won seven world championships!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caesium-55 · 3 months

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—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

#max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 #manager!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33

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dilemmaontwolegs · 7 months

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End of the Road || LH44

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader Summary: when you and your husband both have a surprise to share you find your plans for the future clashing Warnings: 18+ only, pregnancy, angst, fluff WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist

30th November 2025

You had waited two long years for this day to come. When Lewis had told you he was extending his contract with Mercedes back in 2023 you had struggled to accept it. You could feel your body clock counting down and wanted nothing more than to start a family with Lewis but refused to have him be a part time father because of his career. You knew he was made to be a father, you had seen it in every interaction with his nieces and nephews as well as his young fans, it was just a matter of finding the right time to retire.

That day had finally come.

You woke with a smile on your face and rolled over in Lewis’ arms to see him watching you, his own smile playing at his lips.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

There was no hiding your excitement as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers tracing the tattoos that decorated his skin. “Are you excited, Lew?”

“I am,” he hummed as his large hands ran up your thighs to rest on your hips. “I actually have a surprise.”

Your smile grew and you dipped your head down to kiss him. “Me too.”

Lewis’ phone rang beside the bed and you saw Toto’s name flash up on the screen. With a groan, you climbed off your husband and went to start your morning routine before heading to the race. Soon, you told yourself, soon there would be no more early interruptions from team principles or blacked out SUVs arriving to take you to your next destination.

The paddock was electrifying and the crowds went wild for Lewis when he stepped out onto the grid for his final driver’s parade. You watched on proudly from the balcony above the Mercedes pit space with Roscoe by your side.

“I’m going to miss this,” you said as you bent down and scratched him under his chin. “You’re going to miss this too, or the extra attention at least.”

Roscoe looked up at you with sad eyes as if he could understand exactly what you were saying and you smiled. “But I promise you won’t be lonely. You’ll have some company soon enough.”

“And that is the end of the 2025 season. Sir Lewis Hamilton, the seven time world champion has officially won his long awaited eighth championship! What a career this man has had and he will be sorely missed by the teams and fans alike.”

Your throat was hoarse from all the screaming you had done in support of your husband as he crossed the finish line just ahead of Lando Norris to secure the title that had once been stolen from him. You couldn’t believe that after 18 years in Formula 1 he got to finish on a high. Nico Rosenberg was right to retire after winning his championship because it had been disheartening to watch so many other world champions fall down the rankings before losing their seats. It had been one of Lewis’ fears confessed in the late night conversations you shared on other ends of the world.

You picked up Roscoe and pulled a custom made shirt over his head before tucking his paws in the armholes and racing down to the pit lane. The Mercedes team made space for you to reach the metal barrier just as Lewis parked his car up one last time. Standing above the halo, he threw his fists up and let the cheers saturate his being for a moment, committing it to memory before he leapt down and kissed the car. A thank you, a farewell? You wouldn’t know.

He spotted you in an instant, flipping his visor up so you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he made his way over. His fingers traced the lettering that decorated the car with each step, ‘still I rise’, it was his mantra and his reminder. Those were the same letters inked across his shoulders and you had kissed them that morning before he pulled his shirt on.

Roscoe barked at his daddy’s approach and you barely kept him in your arms when Lewis reached you, pulling you both into a tight hug. His face was damp with sweat and tears when you kissed him but it didn’t register in your mind.

“I’m so proud of you!”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darling.” His grin split his face and you could have stayed in that moment forever, but post race interviews were calling him away. “Remember that surprise?”

You nodded and he winked as he quickly stepped away to take the microphone held out to him, his fingers slipping from yours. Lewis waved to the crowd as he stepped onto the red carpet laid out and the first question had your stomach turning.

Rumours…there had always been rumours running rife around the paddock. There were rumours long before you stepped foot in the F1 world and there would be rumours long after you stepped out. But this rumour was one you hadn’t heard about.

Your ears started thrumming with the rush of blood to your head and you stopped hearing everything after Lewis smiled. You knew that smile. That was the relieved smile after successfully keeping a secret. That was the smile you had seen when he proposed to you, the same smile he had when he flew you to Barbados for your birthday.

“Yes, it’s true,” he said as he blocked one ear from the noise the crowd made. “Things changed, the seat came up unexpectedly and I said yes. I’ll be back here next year with Mercedes.”

Roscoe squirmed in your arms as you tried to take his shirt off and you placed him at your feet before he could hurt himself or you. Your hands scrambled to hold the metal as your chest began to tighten - the plans you had made together crumbling at the news.

“Roscoe!”

Your cry somehow caught Lewis’ attention over the deafening atmosphere and he turned to see his furbaby sneak under the barrier and run towards him. Dropping to his knee, still clutching the mic, Lewis greeted his regular sidekick in parc ferme.

“What’s this cute outfit?” Naomi asked with a smile as she knelt down too and read the print on the shirt you hadn’t finished removing. “Big brother?”

“I…I…” Lewis was lost for words as he read the rest and looked your way in shock. “Baby Hamilton?”

A silence spread as the microphone picked up the whisper and echoed it across the entire track. The cameras turned to you and you felt them zooming in on you, capturing the moment that was meant to be full of joy but you felt nothing except betrayal.

All eyes were on you as you nodded once, closing your eyes to hide the tears that were blurring your vision.

You didn’t hear your husband finish the interview, but you felt the moment he reached you. His presence was something you had always been attuned to and you felt the warmth of his palms before they cradled your cheek, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your lashes.

“Open your eyes for me, beautiful,” he pleaded softly and you took a deep breath before they fluttered open. Pure joy met you on the face of the man who owned your heart, a happiness that came from deep within his soul as he dropped a hand to your abdomen. “We’re having a baby?”

“Can we–can we talk about this after?” you whispered after another sure nod. His brows instantly pulled into a frown but you ignored it as you took his hand and placed it on the rail. “You have a podium to claim, champ.”

He was torn as he ran a hand over this hair that you had spent hours painstakingly braiding for him before leaving Monaco but you eased his unease with a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

“But not more than this sport.” His back stiffened as he turned away but it should have been impossible to hear the truth you uttered beneath your breath.

You waited as a good wife, a patient wife, should, but you wished you were far away from all things Formula 1. You watched your husband take the centre stage and receive the fruits of his labour, the race trophy and the promise of the coveted WDC trophy at the FIA awards in a week's time. You tried to smile as he placed his palm over his chest before pointing at you, knowing that your initials and date of the wedding were forever marked upon the skin he touched. It was a message he sent for you, one of the many ways he communicated his love over the years.

Somewhere along the way something had been lost in translation.

You paced the private room nervously while Roscoe snored loudly on the couch in the corner. Lewis should have returned to the motorhome already but he had likely been caught up in the crowds all wanting to congratulate him on his win and his impending fatherhood. A lot of the other teams had already left the paddock and the atmosphere was quickly quietening down outside the door.

The knots in your stomach tied tighter at the knock on the door and when you opened it to see Lewis’ security your palms grew sweaty. “Where’s Lew? Is he alright?”

“He’s alright, ma’am, but there’s quite a bit of activity around him so he thought we should get you back to the hotel first.”

It wasn’t the first time that the crowds had grown too large that he wanted to keep you away. Your safety was always his priority. “Okay, but who's with him?”

“FIA security have him covered.”

You nodded and grabbed Roscoe’s leash, clipping it to his collar as he slowly lifted his head and yawned. If you weren’t already stressed you would have laughed when he dropped his head back on his paws and closed his eyes. “Come on, Rosc, I can’t carry you everywhere. Work with me here.”

He seemed to sense the change in you and began to stretch, shaking his coat out before jumping off the couch and sidling up to your feet for a quick pat. “I think we are ready, Dwayne,” you confirmed as you looked around to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.Dwayne opened the door and stepped into formation with the rest of the team around you, sheltering you out of the building and along the busy paths to where the cars were parked. You had never really felt anxious when surrounded by security but it crept in as you saw just how many people were hanging around the Mercedes building. This was more attention than you were used to, this time it was aimed at you - or more accurately the child of a champion that you carried.

You had already showered and changed by the time your husband arrived at the five star hotel you would stay at for one more night. You heard the door beep as a key card was scanned before it opened and you untucked your legs from underneath you as he walked in.

Lewis looked drained as he shucked his jacket off and draped it over the coat rack with a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him around the room to where he grabbed a chilled bottle of water and cracked it open. His steps were slow and unsure as he walked back, coming to a stop behind the couch. You listened to the quiet thud of the empty bottle being placed on the table before a hand rested either side of your body.

“Hi,” he greeted softly.

You tipped your head back into the cushion to look up at him before rolling your head to the side and kissing the wedding band on his hand. “Hi.”

“It’s been quite the day.”

His lips twitched with a smile at the scoff you made before you reached up to him. He dipped his head until your fingertips found his skin and pulled him the rest of the way down to capture his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered across your lips before pulling back and walking around the couch so he could see you properly, but he didn’t sit with you.

After a moment of watching him pace around the rug, you broke the tense silence. “You said you were going to retire.”

His eyes darted to your stomach as he ran his thumb over his lips, back and forth. “And you said you were going to wait.”

You placed your hand over the non-existent bump and sighed. “For what it is worth, I didn’t plan this - it just happened, but I thought the timing was some goddamn miracle. Until today.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This changes everything, can’t you see that? I had a part time father who missed the big things because he wasn’t there, Lew, and I don’t want that for my child.” You wiped your eyes before you met his so he could see the hurt you felt. “You should have told me.”

“You should have told me.”

You laughed humorlessly and grabbed a pillow, cuddling it close as if it could hide the truth beneath it and pretend everything was okay. “Guess we both hate surprises.”

His pacing stopped dead in his tracks and he shook his head before he dropped to his knees at your feet and took your hand. “I don’t hate this surprise. Whatever else you think about me aside, I love that we are having a baby. You and me, darling. Our baby, like we always planned.”

“But you’ve made plans without me. What happens next year when you’re gone and I’m at home with a newborn? What if you miss her birth?”

“Her?” he asked as he looked up wide eyed.

“It’s too soon to find out,” you answered quietly. “I just have a feeling.”

He slowly pulled the pillow away from you before smiling as he ran the back of his fingers over your stomach. “I feel her too, strong like her mama.”

Something cracked in your chest as you finally felt the joy you were hoping for all afternoon. You saw the love and devotion he already had for his child, it was right there in his dark brown eyes that shimmered in the light of the chandelier.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, placing your hands over his.

“Me too” he rasped as he took the space beside you and pulled you onto his lap. His arms welcomed you home, offering warmth and security in their embrace while he pressed his lips to your forehead. “I’ll talk to Toto, darling, he’ll understand.”

7th December 2025

Lewis had attached himself to your hip and refused to leave your side until his name was called at the end of the awards. The final and most important trophy had been his goal for the past four years, its elusiveness at last coming to an end.

Pride radiated from you and everyone at the Mercedes table as your husband picked up the WDC trophy and kissed the polished metal.

“There’s so many people I have to thank for giving me the opportunity to win eight of these, but we would be here all night. I’ll stick to the main ones then: my beautiful wife, Y/N, who has been my biggest supporter, especially during those hard years, my not-as-beautiful team principal, Toto, for giving me a really fast car, and to all the engineers who built it. Thank you.”

Lewis looked at his reflection in the trophy and beside you Toto sniffled at what was to come. You reached over to squeeze his hand as Lewis cleared the lump in his throat.

“It’s been one hell of a journey getting here and I have met some very special people along the way, but, the most important one is yet to come and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. That is why I have chosen tonight to be the end of my road with Formula 1 but I will cherish the memories I made along the way as I start a new journey - one likely to be even harder to prepare for.”

“He’s going to be a great father,” Toto whispered as he wiped his eyes.

Your smile was beginning to ache from how long it had been on your face. “I know.”

“So,” Lewis hummed as the murmurs grew over the sudden change of heart he had compared to a week ago, “it is my honour to be the one to announce that Bianca Bustamante will be driving in Mercedes for 2026. Congratulations, Bi, you deserve it.”

Lewis held the trophy up for the flash of the photographers before leaving the stage and weaving his way back to your table. Everyone he passed gave him a standing ovation and Toto rose to meet him too, hugging each other tightly and sharing a few words of thanks before he returned to his seat beside you.

“You’re meant to thank your mum and your dad then move on,” you teased, “not make everyone cry.”

Lewis laughed, placing the trophy on table with the floral centrepieces. “Did Toto cry?”

You leaned into your husband’s side as his arm draped over your chair and you giggled with a nod. “Like a baby.”

Lewis looked at his old boss fondly before sending you a wink. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to that.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 rpf #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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ham1lton · 2 months

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TEN THINGS F1 DRIVER Y/N L/N CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT — GQ.

— part of my maneater series ꕤ

Y/N (throwing her hat in the air with one hand and catching it in the other without looking): see? told you i could do it! not my only party trick.

Y/N: hi gq! i’m y/n l/n, formula one driver and i’m here to show you my ten essentials.

NUMBER ONE: IPAD

Y/N: first, has to be my ipad. this was my first big purchase and seeing my bank account being drained of that money almost caused a heart attack. but this bad boy helps me to organise my life, stops me from being bored on flights, keeps me in contact with my family and lets me write my notes. so yeah, thanks apple. also you guys should sponsor me.

NUMBER TWO: NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES

Y/N: i never used to travel a lot. when i was younger, my family couldn’t afford it so flying around a lot was a big shock to my system. obviously as in f1, drivers are required to fly to different races and it means i had to get over my fear of flying. these help a lot with that. these plus a spotify playlist made by my angsty teenage self will make me forget about the fact i’m flying. these are my favourite ones, i have multiple pairs just in case.

NUMBER TWO AND A HALF: MUSIC.

Y/N: i guess this sort of goes off the second one? but music. i keep trying to bribe the engineers to build a blue tooth radio in the car but to no avail. spotify has been my biggest supporter all of these years. i know i’m sponsored by them now but i have been using my account for almost seven years now? so my algorithm is perfection. it truly has helped me so much. i listen to music on the way to races, on the way back from races, in my house, outside my house, cleaning, cooking and even when i’m in the shower. yes, i’m a shower singer. once i get in there, i’m beyoncé!

OFF SCREEN VOICE: what was the last song you listened to?

Y/N: one second, let me see. it was the twilight soundtrack in particular decode by paramore. told you i was an angsty teen!

NUMBER THREE: EMERGENCY BAG

Y/N: okay this sounds bad, it’s not as much an emergency bag as in like medical supplies but more so like extra toothbrush, toothpaste, menstrual products, lotion and other stuff like that. i always carry this with me anywhere in case my suitcase goes missing. it has helped me and my friends out so many times so it’s definitely an essential for me.

NUMBER FOUR: HER CAMERAS.

Y/N: i picked up photography relatively recently and this was the starter camera that the guy in the shop recommended. so this is that camera. for this one, i vlog, which you guys might have seen and this is the camera i use for those videos. i actually don’t record my videos, one of my friends or family or colleagues or whoever will film and i will be in front of the camera. it’s my favourite part when i ask the camera person to reveal themselves and they do their own little introduction. i obviously provide the camera for it. which is this beauty right here.

OFF SCREEN VOICE: who has been your favourite person to film you?

Y/N: i have had a lot of people film me. my most recent being rihanna for my recent holiday vlog! so many people to the point that i genuinely don’t think i could choose a favourite. i mean, i’ve had my sister do it a lot so i guess i can choose her. she knows my angles best!

NUMBER FIVE: LIPGLOSS

Y/N: when i won my first championship and i kissed the camera, the amount of calls from makeup companies my manager received was actually obscene. i think i got so many comments on social media asking what makeup i use and how it stays on throughout the race! to be honest, i don’t always wear makeup but in the original video, i was wearing this fenty gloss. it’s in the shade fu$$y. so, yeah, at least no one can call me a gatekeeper! i always keep it on me. i feel a little more ready to face the world with lipgloss. now, i have my own fenty collection! so check that out.

NUMBER SIX: HER LUCKY SHOES.

Y/N: okay i know i say i’m not necessarily a superstitious person but these shoes have been with me from f3 until now. every race i’ve worn these, i’ve won. so i like having them around. i think they bring luck. i can’t wear them any longer as they’ve worn through the soles now. really annoying but we power through.

NUMBER SEVEN: WINGSTOP BLACK CARD

Y/N: i was really craving wingstop one night. so me and my sister were in london? i think and i vlogged our hunt for wingstop and they reached out to me to give me a black card. i know, isn’t it gorgeous? i was so happy. too bad i have to cut down on what i eat thanks to my nutritionist, but my siblings and friends love this thing.

NUMBER EIGHT: SKINCARE ROUTINE

Y/N: okay, so i’m trying to get more consistent with my skincare but it’s not necessarily working the way i want it to. however, i still stick to the basics. sunscreen, cleanser and moisturiser. i really like keeping my skincare on check as there is this unsaid rule that women have to wear makeup in their jobs and if i keep my skin looking good then i can skirt that rule. i love this cream in particular, it’s moisturising but very light on the skin. best of both worlds.

NUMBER NINE: NECKLACE

Y/N: this was given to me as a gift from my family when i turned eighteen. it was a necklace that i’d had my eye on for a very, very long time. they saved up for so long to buy it for me and it’s become my signature piece. i wear it around my neck constantly. it’s weird having it off my neck to show you.

(she fastens it around her neck quickly)

Y/N: now i feel normal again.

NUMBER TEN: MY PADDOCK PASS

Y/N: i am so bad with keeping my paddock pass on me. for people who don’t know what this is, this allows me access to the garage and things like that. i usually keep it around my neck because if its in my pocket or my bag i’ll forget. my assistant sometimes carries mine. i’m not going to show you my picture because it’s awful. i had woke up really early after no sleep and one of the staff had made me take the picture. now i am forced to wear this monstrosity at work. i keep it hidden as much as i can. last time, lando saw it and laughed so hard he cried so yeah.

author’s note: this was hard as i wanted to keep it as vague as possible so that you can relate it to your own maneater! i’m still taking questions/asks/requests so please send some in!

#jayde’s works ☆#maneater ꕤ #formula one x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 texts #formula one smau #formula 1 #formula one

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

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midnights, masterlist * mv1

a compilation of lonely midnights shared between you and max following your breakup

one.

since your breakup, max hadn’t thought of you. until he stumbled home by himself in the middle of the night.

two.

you were in the middle of eating dinner alone when you got the feeling of getting punched in the gut

three.

max just won his third championship, but the sinking feeling starts to settle in

four.

you’re woken up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and max’s name at the tip of your tongue

five.

max knows how much you hate thunderstorms, and he can't help but think of you when he's home and there's one

six.

a thunderstorm keeps you up at night, the same way it kept max up

seven.

the news is out: three time world champion, max verstappen, and his girlfriend of 6 years have been broken up since the singapore weekend

eight.

rumours on the paddock have it that max is out and about with another girl on his arm

nine.

max finds out you'd gone to the club with alexandra, making him wonder if it’s really over when pictures of you and another man leak

ten.

the 2023 season has ended and geri horner has made the mistake of inviting you to a house party where max is in attendance

daylight.

it’s been 2 years since that fateful night in christian’s home, here’s how life is currently going for you and max

back to december.

it's been 2 years since that devastating night in christian's home, here's how life is currently going for you and max, separately

-> extras.

the great war.

a look into the fight that led to the painstaking breakup

director's cut.

an insight into the writing process and the songs that inspired it

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke midnights

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starkwlkr · 11 months

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always an angel | mick schumacher

yes, this is named after a boygenius song 🫶🏼 anyways this is going to be a two part imagine in my senna!reader series also I’m just picking the candian gp because it’s this weekend lol

update: this has been in the drafts that’s why it says canadian gp^^

Michael Schumacher. One of the greatest drivers in motorsports. There’s a reason why he’s a seven time world champion. Not only was he a great driver, but he was an even greater dad to Mick and Gina Schumacher. You could tell that becoming a dad was ten times better than winning a world championship to Michael Schumacher.

The love he had for the sport was passed onto his only son, Mick. Soon, the young Schumacher was competing in f3 then f2, winning the 2020 FIA f2 championship then making his way to where he was meant to be, f1. Along the way, Mick had managed to fall in love with the daughter of another great driver that was taken away too soon. Y/n Senna had respect for every driver who competed, it didn’t matter if they had won or not. She would never step foot in a garage after the death of her father.

It was after she started talking to Mick that she reintroduced herself to the word that her father loved so much. They had gotten in touch a year before the pandemic started and stayed in contact ever since. Then years passed, team changes, retirement and a new life was brought in the world.

Mick was more than excited to show his daughter, Emmeline or Emmy as he loved to call her, the wonderful word of motorsports. Emmy was born into a racing family much like her parents. Mick had already gotten questions if he wanted his daughter to follow in the family footsteps. He knew if she ever did then it would be too much pressure on her seeing as she had Schumacher and Senna blood in her.

He had seen all the articles and tweets about his performance in f1. He remembers how he felt in that moment when he read all the rude comments. Y/n had to take his phone away for some time because he constantly checked twitter.

He didn’t want Emmy to go through that.

It was summer when they decided that bringing Emmy to a race was okay, the race being the Canadian Grand Prix. Mick and Y/n had arrived to the Mercedes hospitality a little earlier since they didn’t want Emmy to be scared by fans and photographers.

“I talked to Gina the other week.” Y/n said as Emmy slammed her hands on the table, getting irritated that her soppy cup kept rolling away from her.

“Yeah?” Mick grabbed the plastic cup and positioned it infront of Emmy.

“Yeah, she says she misses Emmy and she might visit soon.” Y/n finished.

“Emmy misses her Aunt Gina too, right Em?”

Emmy just made noises and kept on hitting her cup on the table. That caught the attention of George, who had just entered the hospitality.

“Hey miss Emmy, what did the table ever do to you?” George teased, walking up to the little family. “How is the royal racing family?”

“You’re hilarious, George.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

“Thank you very much,” George smirked. “But I’m only here to see the best Schumacher slash Senna in the paddock. Hi, baby Emmy!” Emmy giggled when George ruffled her hair. “I know it’s too early, but do you think Emmy will one day say she wants to be a formula one driver?”

Mick hoped she never said those words. The world was a harsh place. He remembers the feeling all too well.

#senna!reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you

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pucksandpower · 3 months

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I’m sorry but Formula 1 media drives me insane!

If Max didn’t DNF in Australia, he would be leading the World Championship. If Charles had functioning brakes in Bahrain, he would be leading the World Championship.

See how these hypotheticals work?

The narratives surrounded the Australian Grand Prix are slowly making me lose my mind. Did Carlos have a commendable drive? Yes. Was his win due to luck more than anything (simply because no one is getting ahead of Max if he doesn’t have mechanical issues)? Yes!

Carlos won because, for the first time in nearly two seasons, Max had a DNF. It’s really that simple.

The difference in how media treats Carlos versus Charles simply does not make any sense to me. A lucky P1 for Carlos and fans and pundits alike are saying that he is better than Charles and that Ferrari is keeping the wrong driver.

I can’t deal with it anymore!

How are these same people content to pretend that Charles didn’t have major brake issues in Bahrain that rendered his car all but undriveable? That him being able to finish P4 was a miracle in itself. How do seven straight front row starts get ignored or dismissed as unimportant because Charles didn’t manage to convert them to wins … when the Australian Grand Prix clearly showed the importance of starting the position?

The only difference, as luck would have it, the one race that Max has mechanical issues is also the one race that Charles had issues with the car in qualifying and had to start on the second row instead.

Sometimes I wish that Charles had a national media to defend him and have his back like all the other drivers do because the double standards that he constantly has to deal with are making me lose my mind.

It truly feels like some of these people don’t bother to actually watch races or take context into consideration and just go purely off of the standings.

Charles Leclerc deserves better.

#i needed to rant #charles leclerc #cl16 #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #scuderia ferrari #australian gp 2024 #aus gp 2024

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bucknastysbabe · 4 months

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now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

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httpiastri · 3 months

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PERFECTLY FINE – Y/N PROFILE

full name: y/n harper

date of birth: june 3rd, 2005

birthplace: cambridge, england

family members: william harper (father); sarah harper (mother)

teams: prema racing (2020-2023), campos racing (2024-now)

driver academy: red bull junior team (2019-now)

instagram: yourusername

best friends: jak crawford, dino beganovic, pepe marti

racing record:

2020 italian f4 championship – third place (six podiums; two wins)

2021 formula regional european championship – fifth place (four podiums; one win)

2022 formula regional european championship – second place (nine podiums; three wins)

2023 fia formula 3 championship – second place (five podiums; three wins)

2024 fia formula 2 championship – ongoing

trivia:

– y/n harper is the only child of four-time world champion william harper. her father was a ferrari driver for a total of eleven years and won his first two titles with the italian team in 2007 and 2008, before moving on to drive for red bull. there, he won his second championship in 2010 – only to move back to ferrari and take his last title with them the following season. as of early 2021, he's the head of the ferrari driver academy.

– y/n began karting at the age of seven, starting off with being coached by her father but later moving on to getting a trainer of her own. she joined the red bull junior team for her last year of karting and has stayed in the academy ever since.

– american f2 driver jak crawford joined the junior team one year later, and he and y/n found each other instantly. the two have been best friends, as well as neighbors, since then.

– y/n began being romantically involved with teammate paul aron during the summer break of the 2022 freca season. however, the pair split up almost a year later. she then started dating ferrari academy driver oliver bearman in late july 2023.

– y/n was homeschooled between ages 14 and 16 so that she could focus more on her driving.

– besides racing, her interests include skiing, baking, reading, and journaling.

– despite often being held back by her own performance anxiety and imposter syndrome, she is very set on and clear about her goal; getting into formula one. she has claimed that she will never truly be satisfied until she stands on the top step of the podium after an f1 race like her father did so many times.

series masterlist

#perfectly fine!#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f2 #formula two #formula 2 #ollie bearman #paul aron #fluff #angst #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #series #fanfic #imagine #blurb #drabble

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coimbrabertone · 9 days

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MotoGP Silly Season Predictions - Plus Larson Waiver Talk.

As recently as this morning, I was planning on this week's blogpost being about the Kyle Larson waiver situation over in NASCAR, however, MotoGP then decided to do everything all at once and launched silly season into high gear.

So, with regards to Larson, I'll just say one thing: he raced in the Indianapolis 500 competitively and made NASCAR look good mere years after Jimmie Johnson, unfortunately, struggled in a Chip Ganassi Indycar on road and street circuits - and there were a lot of jokes at NASCAR's expense after their seven-time world champion spun out every race. So how does NASCAR repay him? Utter silence over whether or not he'll get a playoff waiver.

Kyle Larson is the 2021 champion, took his car to the owner's championship final four as a result of playoff shenanigans in 2022, and then made the final four in 2023 again. He is considered one of the top talents in NASCAR and he has the results to back it up. So why is there controversy over him getting a playoff waiver for this year?

Because Kyle Larson prioritized the Indianapolis 500 last weekend.

I talked about this in my Motorsports Christmas blogpost, but the Indy 500 was rain delayed and Kyle Larson stayed there to compete, and only then he flew out to Charlotte. Now, Kyle Larson landed, was ready to get into the car, but then it started raining in Charlotte too. Just before midnight, as the track was drying, NASCAR controversially decided to call the race, thus Kyle Larson was not able to relieve Justin Allgaier in the #5 and resume the rest of the Coke 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

NASCAR is mad because every other weekend of the year, they're the biggest show in racing, they can throw their weight around and try to chase NFL ratings while all other racing series are considered a niche. That's true every weekend except Memorial Day weekend, when the Indianapolis 500 reigns supreme. The whole existence of the Charlotte 600 is to compete with Indy.

Larson prioritized the bigger race and that made NASCAR made, because they're used to getting their egos stroked.

Larson is one of the best drivers in NASCAR and the double attempt brought good publicity to both sports. He had already won his way into the playoffs and made an effort to get to Charlotte for the end of the 600 - give him a waiver. If not, well, you face the possibility that Austin Cindric is in the playoffs after his shock win at Iowa, and one of the top drivers in the series isn't.

I like Austin, I'm glad he won, but he's nowhere near the same level as Kyle Larson. If he can compete for the championship and Kyle can't, then it makes the NASCAR playoffs look even less legitimate than they already are.

Anyway, that turned into a longer rant than I intended, so I'll leave it there. Now onto the main topic for today: MotoGP silly season.

Yesterday at Mugello, Enea Bastianini spent the final laps of the race charging from fourth to second, overtaking Marc Marquez for third and then pulling off an audacious last corner pass on Jorge Martin for second. This meant that Enea finished just eight tenths off leader Pecco Bagnaia for a factory Ducati 1-2.

So naturally, Ducati has decided to replace him.

Marc Marquez, who finished four and last out of these three, is going to the Ducati Lenovo Team, according to Autosport.

This was all but confirmed when, a few hours later, Aprilia confirmed the signing of Jorge Martin for Aprilia. Jorge Martin who finished third and got overtaken by Enea Bastianini in the final corner, mind you.

Now, of course, Ducati is not judging this off of one race alone and I acknowledge - as I did in two recent blogposts - that Enea has had a rotten time on the factory Ducati seat. That being said, seeing him lose Ducati to Marc Marquez, who finished last of the main three, and then lose out on the Aprilia seat to the guy he overtook in the final corner. It stings.

That being said, some news out of this weekend might offer a possibility for Enea to have a bit of a soft landing from the factory seat anyway. Let me explain:

Earlier in this weekend, Marc Marquez spelled out his demands in an interview. He said that he was not interested in going to Pramac, saying that he didn't want to switch from a satellite team (he's currently riding a 2023 Ducati at Gresini Racing) to another satellite team (Pramac runs 2024 Ducatis, same as the factory team, with factory contracted riders, they are still customers, however). Instead, Marquez said that the best option was a factory team, and if not that, then a factory bike at minimum.

Translation: Marc Marquez wanted the factory team for 2025, and if he couldn't get that, then he wanted a 2025 Ducati at Gresini, remaining at his current team.

In response, Gino Borsoi, who is the team manager at Pramac, insisted that his team had a contract for two factory-spec Ducati GP25s next year. This was somewhat of a surprise for a number of reasons, one: Ducati announced late last year that they signed Moto2 rider Fermin Aldeguer for 2025, and it seemed like the natural landing spot for him was going to be Pramac...until it emerged later on that Ducati wanted to start Fermin out on a 2024 bike. Two: regardless of which spec Ducati Fermin is going to be on, Pramac has been heavily linked to Yamaha lately.

The Japanese bikes are struggling in MotoGP right now and, ever since RNF switched to satellite Aprilias for 2023, Yamaha has not had a satellite team. Four bikes capturing data instead of two could really help Yamaha right now, so they've been linked to pretty much every Ducati satellite team the last few months. VR46 with the romanticism of a Valentino Rossi and Yamaha reunion, Gresini until they renewed their deal, and most recently, with Pramac.

Yamaha was desperate and the rumor has been that they offered very generous terms to Pramac.

So, the news that Pramac may stay with Ducati after all is a shock to the media, but it does not seem to have been much of a shock to Ducati. Ducati had been working on a way to keep both Martin and Marquez, and it seems that they wanted to offer Pramac the chance to run MotoGP's biggest star - Marc Marquez - as a reason to stay...and potentially a reason to accept taking on a rookie Aldeguer on a year-old bike as well.

Now that Marquez is going to the factory team instead and Jorge Martin has snatched the open Aprilia seat, I see an opening. Ducati can send Enea Bastianini to Pramac, keeping him on a factory spec bike while giving Pramac another frontrunning rider. Aldeguer joins as Bastianini's teammate, on a GP25 if that's what it takes to keep Pramac in the fold, because Marc Marquez will be in the factory team so freeing up a GP25 won't be as important.

What about VR46 and Gresini then? Well, I think Marco Bezzecchi's current season has been a bit of a disaster, so he won't really have much of a chance to get a factory ride next year, so staying at VR46 seems likely. Furthermore, his struggles mean that Bezzecchi probably isn't going to have much luck demanding Ducati gives him a GP25, so status quo is probably the most likely outcome there. It's unfortunate for Bezzecchi, but the sheer reality is that, with all these hot riders on the market, his options seem to be either stay at VR46, or make a more or less lateral move to Trackhouse Aprilia.

Then Franco Morbidelli, another Valentino Rossi academy product, can drop from Pramac into the other VR46 seat.

Where does Fabio DiGiannantonio go then? Well, with Marquez going to the factory, Fabio can now return to Gresini and be reunited with Frankie Carchedi. Thus, restoring the 2023 lineup of Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

So, to sum things up, I think Ducati can keep all three of its satellite teams and all eight bikes like this:

Ducati Lenovo (GP25): Pecco Bagnaia and Marc Marquez.

Pramac (GP25): Enea Bastianini and Fermin Aldeguer.

VR46 (GP24): Marco Bezzecchi and Franco Morbidelli.

Gresini (GP24): Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

Maybe Pramac will go to Yamaha after all, maybe my predictions will look radically wrong in a few weeks. I don't know how it'll turn out, but this is the scheme I've thought up in my mind.

I need to do something since with Marc Marquez at Ducati and Jorge Martin at Aprilia, my two favorite teams now have my two least favorite riders and I'm trying not to dwell on that part.

So yeah.

Oh, also this weekend Indycar raced at Detroit, but uhh...the less said about that, the better.

#motorsports #racing #indy 500 #motogp #nascar #nascar cup #nascar cup series #kyle larson #ducati #pramac #gresini #vr46

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motocorsas · 22 days

Text

Nicky Hayden passed away seven years ago today. the last American to win a world championship, he was a hero of the sport and sorely missed. in his honor, i want to highlight a few of my favorite stories about him:

he got his start in dirt track racing, winning his first grand national dirt track race in 1999, when he was 18, at the Hagerstown Half-Mile in Hagerstown, MD, a place i've been many times. in the same year he won the AMA Supersport championship, and three years later, became the youngest ever AMA Superbike champion. i would argue having a dirt track background gave Hayden a unique talent for road racing -- riding on dirt imparts and requires a strong sense of the back tire. Hayden himself concurred:

while in AMA Superbike, Nicky wrote a column in Roadracing World magazine called Young Gun. i sorely miss these types of features: in the nineties, Kevin Schwantz also wrote for Roadracing World. they gave unique insights into the operations of a pro racing paddock. i unfortunately couldn't find any clippings from Nicky's column online. here's David Swarts, staff writer for Roadracing World, remembering Nicky's contributions:

Nicky's congeniality was his greatest strength. his first ever teammate in MotoGP was Dani Pedrosa, with whom he had a perfect television rivalry; hammer-and-tongs on track, but always respectful and fair to one another. Pedrosa crashed out Hayden at Estoril in 2006, almost eliminating his championship hopes. Motorsport.com reflects on their rivalry:

they were able to compete on track and be committed to beating the other while still remaining respectful, something that not every team could do.

just about everyone remembers Hayden for his kind personality, his skill on track and his trademark Kentucky accent. he was someone who was able to compete, win and lose, without the pressure warping his perspective. he took losses in stride: he credits his use of the number 69, which has now been retired in his honor, to the fact that his own father wore it while racing in dirt track, and constantly crashing out. whether he was upright or upside down in the dirt, his number read the same.

#motogp #nicky hayden #me

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caesium-55 · 3 months

Text

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years

Text

Daddy’s Day Off

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: just a couple being cheesy and in love, dad!Lewis, super soft moments between lewis and his daughter, one little disagreement, all around tooth rotting fluff.

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: I saw Lewis’s Instagram post and I had to write dad!Lewis, I couldn’t help myself.

----

Your husband shouts from the bedroom, “have you seen my keys?”

“Which ones?” You shout back, typing on your laptop. “Car, obviously.” He says, his hoodie tossed over his arm as he walks into the kitchen. You paused your typing, admiring your husband.

The white lights on the kitchen reflected off his skin, outlining the tattoos he had along his back. “I can feel you staring,” he calls, his back turned to you.

You smiled, chin propped on the palm of your hand as you looked him up and down. “Not staring, admiring.” You call back.

“Well,” Lewis turns to face you, smiling at you. “Stop admiring and help me look for my keys.” He tosses the sweater at you. You ignore him, instead pulling on the sweater he was intending to wear, the pink fabric swallowing you whole.

“I was going to wear that,” he says to you as you slide off the stool.

“Looks better on me,” you do a spin for him, Lewis grabs your hand and pulls you to him. “I think so too.” He mumbles against your lips before giving you a kiss.

You lean on the counter as you watch him search the kitchen again. The keys were in the pocket of the sweater he tossed at you. He didn’t seem to remember that he wore it when he dropped Stella off at school that morning.

The two of you had been married for almost 12 years now and had an 8 year old daughter named Stella.

You had met Lewis for the first time in 2008 after he won his first championship with McLaren.

You’re a sports journalist and the weekend he won his first championship, you weren't even supposed to be there. You were filling in for a colleague whose wife went into labour. You were under strict instruction to get an interview with whoever won and you did; you two did quite a lengthy interview but at the end, after the cameras were done rolling and the recording was off, Lewis asked if he could take you to dinner. You turned around to face him and to be quite honest, you were a little confused so you asked why he would want to spend his afternoon with a sports journalist when he should and could be partying to celebrate his win.

Lewis told you that he wanted to take you to dinner and then he would take you out and show you a good time, which he did. The two of you kept in contact over the break and when the season picked back up, you found yourself at the races once again but this time, as Lewis's girlfriend.

Lewis proposed to you in 2010, got married in 2012, and in 2014, you welcomed a baby girl; Stella Rose Hamilton.

Stella was the apple of her father's eye.

From the day you found out you were pregnant, Lewis fell in love with her but the day that she was born was a completely different thing. You saw a whole new side of your husband that you didn't even know existed. He was so in love with this little girl and everything he did from that point on was for her.

You and Lewis tended to keep her out of public view as much as possible, other than a few photos you two post but with her father being a seven time Formula One world champion and her mother, a highly regarded sports journalist, it was a bit hard to do.

She had been to numerous races but she always hung out in the garage; if she wasn’t with you two, that meant her uncle Sebastian, who was also her godfather, had whisked her off over to the Aston Martin garage. You were almost certain the little girl had developed a slight crush on the Canadian driver, her cheeks all red when he bends down to hug her hello.

“Lew,” you call, reaching onto the pocket of the sweater. “Here,” you toss the keys to him, he catches them.

“Where’d you-” he glances at the sweater and smiles. “Pocket?”

You nod, “pocket.”

Lewis starts talking as he walks off towards the bedroom. “I’m going for a drive,” he disappears in the room, coming back out with a black hoodie. “Do you want to come?” He notices you’ve returned to your spot by the counter, already jumping back into your work.

“Wish I could baby, but I got this article to edit and then I have a few meetings this afternoon. Can you pick Stel up from school ?”

“Yeah,” he says, hugging you from behind, now resting his chin on your shoulder. “You got it, sweetheart.”

You smile, patting his hand before twisting his wedding ring back into place, your initials peeking out from under the silver band.

Lewis kisses your jaw, peppering kisses until he gets to your cheek. “Love you,” he whispers against your skin. “Love you,” you hum, hand patting his cheek before letting him go.

The clock on your laptop reads 11:23am, you’ve got about 20 minutes before you need to leave. There was time to fit in a quick shower and make yourself look decent before heading to the office for your meeting at noon.

-----

You had literally just finished your meeting when your phone starts to buzz in your pocket and it’s Stella’s school calling.

It was one of those automated voice messages and the recording starts to play; “A student from your household named Stella Hamilton has been marked absent for afternoon attendance.”

The message sends you into a slight panic, how could Stella not be there for afternoon attendance?

She was staying at school for lunch, Lewis wasn’t supposed to pick her up until 3:15 for dismissal.

Lewis.

Maybe her father picked her up for lunch and lost track of time. You dial his number as you walk to your office, already trying to remember what you need to take with you in case you need to leave.

“Hello?” He picks up after a few rings.

“Lew,” you sigh, glad he answered. “Did Stella’s school call you? She’s absent for afternoon attendance, did you pick-” “Yeah, sorry sweetheart!” Lewis chuckles, “forget to tell you.”

“You have her?” You ask, and the phone starts to ring by your ear; FaceTime from Lewis. You pick up and the man smiles at you, turning the phone so you can see your daughter sitting across from him.

“Hi mommy!” She grins, waving at the phone. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at the girl. “Hi baby, what are you having for lunch ?”

Stella takes the phone from her dad, showing you the plate. You smile, telling her to have fun before asking to speak to her dad again. Lewis was holding the phone now. “Why didn’t you let me know you were taking her out of school? I nearly had a heart attack.” You tell him, sitting in your chair.

Lewis chuckles, “sorry, it slipped my mind honestly. I figured she’d rather spend the afternoon with me than in school.”

“Babe, you can’t just pull her out of school for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason, we're gonna have a daddy daughter day. I miss her and I leave next Wednesday, just wanna start the weekend a little sooner with my girl.” He glances at his baby girl, smiling at her and reaches over the table, probably to wipe something off her face.

“I thought I was your girl?” You joke, propping the phone on your laptop. “You know you got booted the day she was born,” he smiles at you, winking.

You chuckle, “yeah okay, whatever. You two have fun, I'll see you both when I get home.”

“Sounds good, love you babe.”

“Love you both,” you smile at him before ending the call. You sink back into your chair, sighing; this man was going to be the death of you.

---

Lewis and Stella head down the road, the windows of his Mercedes rolled down with the little girl in the back. “Can I pick the song, daddy?” She calls to him when he stops at the traffic light.

“Sure,” he hands the phone back to her, letting her pick what she wants.

It’s a few moments before she picks, the first few notes into it and Lewis already knows what song it is. Your wedding song, the one you had your first dance too.

“You love this one,” he glances at her in the rear view mirror, and she nods happily.

Stella had walked in on you and Lewis cleaning out your bedroom, she found the box with your wedding stuff and found the CD that found your wedding video on it. She fell in love with the song after that day, dancing to it with her father any chance she got - it was adorable.

“What colour are you thinking of doing?” Lewis asks her, pulling into the parking lot of the nail salon. “Purple!” She smiles at him as he comes around to open the door for her.

He holds her hand, walking into the building with her. “That’s a good choice mama,” he says before turning to the lady at the desk. “Okay baby, go on.” He tells her, going to sit on one of the chairs by the door.

The little girl turns to face her father, a pout playing on her lips. The exact same pout Lewis gives you when he wants something and you won’t give in. “Aren't you coming too, daddy?”

“You want me too?”

“Yeah!” She grabs his hand, pulling him to sit beside her.

Stella and Lewis chat about her classmates while they get their nails done. Stella tells him all about this annoying girl in her class and how this girl keeps picking on her friend and she finally tells the annoying girl to leave her friend alone. Lewis smiles and nods, making comments as they chat but he can’t help but admire how much of you is in your little girl. Her feistiness and her ability to say what she wants, however she sees fit, were amongst the first things Lewis liked about you.

The nails were almost done, Stella opted for vibrant purple with little white flowers on her ring fingers. Lewis does a regular manicure with top coat but when Stella gives him a pout and puppy dog eyes, asking if he wants to match with her, he caves and gets matching little flowers on his ring fingers.

He pays and holds her little hand as they step out and walk back to the car.

She’s tall enough to sit in the front so he lets her sit in the passenger seat, making sure to buckle her in properly before sending you a picture of their matching nails.

From Lewis: *1 Image Attachment* Matching.

To Lewis: adorable.

Next up was shopping. Stella has her father wrapped around her finger and anything she wanted was hers; you always had to remind Lewis that as much as he wants to spoil her and is able too, it’s okay to tell her no sometimes.

He doesn’t listen to you.

The two of them are wandering through the store, Lewis showing her pieces he thinks she’d like but much like her father, she had her own eccentric fashion sense.

Bold colours, patterns, different fabrics and materials; she was her own little designer.

“I like this one,” she pulls the bright blue shirt off the rack, little sparkles across the back. “That’s pretty, do you wanna try it on, love?” He asks her, carrying the hanger for her.

Stella shrugs, wandering through the aisles, “can I see the shirt daddy?”

Lewis hands the hanger over to her, leaning on the rack as he watches her hold the shirt out towards the stacks of pants. He realizes what she’s doing, she's trying to find something that matches the shirt. “What about the black?” He suggests.

“I don't like this,” she points out the appliqué by the pockets. “Fair enough.” He hums, letting her take her time.

He loved when she did this, he liked to see her grow into her own sense of things. He could spend forever watching her grow up but he knows it won’t last forever no matter how much he wants it too.

That’s why Lewis liked to spend days like today with her; because she’ll always remember this and so will he.

Stella finally picks out two pairs of pants, telling her father she needs to try them to see what looks better so he lets her, asking her if she wants him to wait outside the room for her. She tells him no, she’s okay by herself.

He doesn't know where the time went, when did his baby girl get all grown up?

Lewis finds himself admiring the jewellery in the cases, the stone catches his eye before he can walk off.

Stella’s birthstone sitting on a gold band, Lewis can’t help himself and asks if they have it in your ring size.

Soon enough, Stella finds her dad again but this time with her arms full of clothes. “What’s all this?” Lewis bends down to take the stuff from her.

“I found more stuff,” she grins at him. “There’s a whole other section!” She tells him, her eyes widened with excitement.

“Did you try on all of this?” He asks, and she nods. “Look!” She shows her father the purple shirt with the race car on it, “this one’s my favourite.”

Lewis smiles, “how come?”

“Because it looks like my car!”

“You have a car, baby?” He chuckles, knowing she doesn’t.

“Not yet,” she shakes her head, “but when I start to race like you, daddy, I want mine to be purple!”

Lewis was going to start crying in the middle of the store. His little girl wanted to race like him, follow in his footsteps.

There’s nothing better than that, his heart was so full and he couldn't help but think about her future as they walked to the front of the store.

Another Hamilton, another legacy.

He’s carrying at least 6 bags out of the store, putting them in the trunk and Stella is waiting beside him. “Do you wanna drive?” He asks her and her brows furrow, looking at her dad.

“What?”

He asks again; “Do you want to drive?”

“I don't know how.” She tells him.

“I’ll show you, come on.” He unlocks the door, getting into the driver’s seat before lifting her to sit on his lap. Lewis pulls the door shut before turning on the car.

The parking lot was empty, his foot was on the pedal before reversing it out of the parking spot. “Okay, keep the wheel straight.” He tells her, moving her hands onto the two sides of the wheel, Lewis keeps his hand on the bottom of it just in case as he pressed the gas slowly.

“Turn it left, slowly.” Stella follows her father’s instructions, turning the wheel to the left. Lewis smiles, “okay, we’ll go a little faster. Don’t tell your mother we did this,” he chuckles, pressing the gas pedal a little more, the car picking up speed.

Speaking of her mother, your name pops up on the screen as Stella turns the wheel right. Lewis slows down a bit, hitting the answer and your voice comes through.

“Hey! Heading home in a bit, what are you two-” “Wrong way babe,” Lewis tells Stella, moving the wheel the other way before the car hit the curb.

“What are you two doing?” You ask your husband. Stella looks back at her dad as he puts the car in park.

“Nothing, heading home too.”

“Who are you telling it’s the wrong way?”

“Oh, Stel was playing a game on my phone and she’s going the wrong way.”

“Hm, okay. What are we doing for dinner?” He can hear shuffling on your end. You must be getting ready to head out but your office was closer to home than the store so he’d have to beat you home obviously.

“Stel, what do you want for dinner?” He looks over at the girl, it’s like they share the same thought. “Pizza,” they say at the same time, making you laugh.

“Okay, I'll pick it up on the way home. See you two soon. Love you both!”

“Love you!” Stella and Lewis say at the same time before you end the call. Lewis lifts Stella off his lap when he opens the door. “Into the back, missy. Daddy’s gonna drive a little fast.”

“Can we put the windows down?” She asks, her father buckling her in.

“Sure, baby.” He laughs; she was just like you.

Whenever Lewis takes you out, just the two of you because he would never dare to drive as fast as he could with her in the car, you’d put the windows down as he drove. You always told him how much you loved the sound and the feeling as he sped down the road.

Lewis gets back in, rolling the back windows down half way and the front two are down all the way before he pulls off. He’s home in record time, 15 minutes opposed to the 25 it usually took.

He’s a F1 driver before a father.

Had it been him alone, it would be less but Stella was precious cargo so of course, he used caution.

---

When you arrived home, the two of them were laying on the couch. Lewis’s arms wrapped around the little girl, their eyes fixed on the screen. Her favourite Disney movie playing in the background.

You set your keys on the counter, walking over to set the pizza on the counter. “I’m home,” you smile at the two of them, Stella getting up to run over and hug you.

“Hi baby!” You caught the little girl, hugging her tightly.

“Hi mommy!” she smiles; she had her father’s smile.

You pick her up as you walk back to the couch, sitting down next to your husband and setting Stella on your lap. “Did you have fun with daddy today?” Lewis’ arm is around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

“Yeah!” She grins, “we got our nails done.” She pulls her dad’s hand to show you the matching flowers on their fingers. “Then daddy took me shopping and he let me drive!”

Lewis pressed his lips together, glancing away from you when you looked over at him. “Oh, did he?” You ask her, eyes fixed on your husband.

“It was so much fun!”

“That’s good baby, I'm glad you had fun.” You kiss her head, “go wash up. I’ll get dinner ready.” You let go of her, Stella running off to the bathroom.

You get up, leaving Lewis on the couch. “Sweetheart,” he calls. following you to the kitchen.

“Don’t sweetheart me, Lewis.”

“Don’t be mad,” he says, hugging you from behind as you reach for the plates in the cupboard. “I got you something,” he whispers to you.

You ignore him, pushing his hands away as you move to set the plates on the table. Lewis was tumbling through the drawers, looking for something as you poured some juice into a glass for Stella. Lewis leans on the counter, the little box in his hand. You glance at the box and walk off to set the glass on the table. You were passing back to get yourself something to drink from the fridge when he grabs your hand and pulls you to him.

“The parking lot was empty. She sat on my lap, it was perfectly safe.”

“She’s 8 years old, Lewis.”

“She’s my daughter too, I think you forget sometimes.” He tells you, his words bitter.

“How could I forget when she looks exactly like you? I hate when you do this shit,” you tell him. Stella had walked out at that moment, in her pjs. “Mommy?” She calls, her little stuffed bee tucked under her arm - a gift from uncle Seb.

“Yeah baby?”

“Are you and daddy fighting ?” She asks and you glance at your husband. “No, just having a chat, baby.” You tell her, walking her to the table to take some pizza out for her.

Lewis watched as you gave Stella her dinner, admiring the way you always could hold yourself together around her. You kiss the top of her head, whispering something to her that made her laugh before walking back over to him.

You look up at him, your arms folded across your chest. Lewis can’t help but smile. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.”

“So I’m not pretty otherwise?” You ask, Lewis rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.

“Do I?” you quipped, the man ignores your words.

He opens the small box, revealing the ring. “Lew..” You glance between him and the ring before he sets the box on the counter, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it into your right ring finger; the perfect fit.

“It’s stunning,” you hold your hand out to admire it.

“It’s Stel’s birthstone,” he tells you, his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side. “This doesn’t mean I'm not mad at you,” you tell him, turning to face him.

“Are you ever not mad at me?” He teases, earning him a light smack to the side before you kiss him. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

The 3 of you have dinner together; Stella filling you in on the gossip from school, the same bit she shared with her dad at the nail salon and then she told you all about her shopping trip, all the clothes she got and the shirt with the race car on it, which spiralled into her telling you about her driving lesson with her daddy.

After that, you left the two of them on the couch to finish up their movie as you went off to shower and get ready for bed but not before taking a picture of them on the couch, making a mental note to change the desktop picture on your laptop.

When you get out of the shower, you can hear Lewis speaking and Stella’s giggling which meant the little girl was in bed and he was reading her a story. You lean on the door frame, watching as your husband points to something in the book, doing a silly voice to match whatever character he was reading for.

Lewis shuts the book, setting it on the bookshelf near her bed. “Daddy does the voices better than I do,” you tell her, walking into the room. You say goodnight to her, kissing her cheek. Lewis smiles at his girls before leaning to kiss her head.

“Sleep well, darling.” He tells her, his hand cradling her cheek.

“Good night daddy,” she smiles at her dad, her little arms wrapped around his neck when he leans down to hug her.

You were already in bed when Lewis came in. “You can’t possibly have more work,” he says, taking the laptop from you.

“Lewis!”

He reads what you had open, “this can wait?”

“Yeah, but I don-” He ignores you and shuts the laptop, putting it on the other side of the room knowing that you’ll be too lazy to get up and go get it.

He drops down next to you, resting his head on your lap as you scratch along his jaw softly. “Today is one of the best days I've had with her in a long time.”

“I’m glad, just give me a heads up next time; you know, just so I don't have a heart attack when they tell me she’s not in school.”

Lewis laughs, kissing your hand. “I’ll tell you next time, I promise.” He looks up at you, “maybe next time, I’ll take you for a ride.”

You knew there was some hidden meaning behind your husband’s words but you were much too tired to take him on right now. “Alright baby, whatever you say.” You lean down to kiss him, nudging him from your lap so you can lay down.

The door to your bedroom gets pushed open, “mommy? Daddy?” Stella calls, her little bee tucked under her arm again.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lewis is already out of bed to check on her.

“Can I sleep in here?” She asks, Lewis already picking her up. “You don’t have to ask, sweetie.” You tell her when they get back to the bed.

Lewis was in the middle, Stella on his right and you on the right. You lean over him to kiss her forehead before he pulls the blanket over the 3 of you.

All was right, his two girls next to him and everyone was happy. It was days like today that made being married and being a father worth it; the memorable days.

-----

taglist: @diorleclerc @timetoracewrites @lickmeleclerc @halsteadssneakylink @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @holymacandcheeseballs

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sennaverstappen · 4 months

Text

ROUND 22/23 ⸺ las vegas grand prix ✩ 19.11.2023

maple's rating: ★★★★ (9.5/10)

☁︎ click read more facts, highlights & experiences ☁︎

✩ facts

red bull today broke mercedes’ single-season record of 19 wins in a year (set in 2016)

max tied sebastian’s 53 career wins, putting him third in the all-time list behind michael's 91 and lewis’ 103

max is the first driver ever to win in the same country three times in a single year after his us victories in miami, austin and now las vegas

max today won what was the 1,100th world championship event

today was charles’ fifth podium finish of 2023 for ferrari

checo lost a place on the final lap for the second consecutive race

it was checo’s first podium since the last red bull one-two at monza seven races ago

esteban took p4 from 16th on the grid – he has only finished higher once this season (third in monaco)

with p6 for ferrari, carlos has leapfrogged lando and fernando in the standings and moved into fourth in the drivers' championship

lewis’ p7 finish for mercedes means he will definitely finish third in the drivers' championship

fernando, who finished in p9, is the only driver who was alive the last time f1 raced in las vegas in 1982

✩ raceweek highlights

max fucking hating this entire premise 💀💀💀💀💀💥💥💥💥

LESTAPPEN GAY IN THE MEDIA PEN. SOMEHOW 💕💕💕💕💕💕👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 WHAT THE SCALLOP

carlos ran over draincover 😨😨😨

THE SPHEREEEE 💗💗💗💗💗

mclaren ass 💔💔💔

traffic 🥹🥹🥹🥹

checo out 😪😪😪 lewis out🤔🤔🤔

LOGAN THROUGH TO Q3 💥💥💥💥💥‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

max almost hitting the wall 😭😭😭

LOGANNNN 🦅

MAX TERRORISM ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

CRASH 🫵🫵🫵

fernando damage 😧😧

yuki up nine places

lando‼️‼️‼️‼️ in the wall 💔💔💔💔

lestappen fucking fighting on the radio 😭😭😭😭

5 second penalty 🤣🫵 ‘send him my regards 💗💕💕💗💕💗’

charles overtaking max‼️‼️‼️

GAX FUCKING CRIME. GEORGE 😒😒😒😒😒😒

checo leadingjdjjajajhsjhsjsi

pierresteban BATTLE‼️‼️‼️‼️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

MAX LEADING ‼️💗‼️💗‼️💥💥💥

charles mistake -> checo overtake 😭😭😭💀💀💀

1.9 stop!! mclaren!!!

THE LAST CHARLES OVERTAKE 😭😭😭

MAX WINNNSSS 💕💕💕💕💗☀️☀️☀️☀️💌💌💌🌷🌷✨✨✨✨🪽🪽🪽🪽

max singing on the radiojfishsijs 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

THE CAR RIDE. I CANTJFJSJHSJSJSJSJ

✩ maple's diary

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hugheses · 5 months

Text

literally years ago i started transcribing this and then never got around to finishing it but finally did with some help from oomf. pls tell me if you notice any errors!

below the cut:

5-3-21

AJ: We are so excited to have Ellen Hughes hop on the bus with us today. So Ellen, welcome. And to give a little background, you grew up in Dallas, which, a long time ago before the Stars, there were not- it was not a hockey hotbed, as maybe it is now. Played a lot of sports. You ended up playing soccer, hockey and lacrosse, three sports at UNH, made it to the NCAA semifinal game in Lacrosse in 1987, inducted into the UNH Athletic Hall of Fame in 2012. You ultimately pursued a graduate degree at UNH, and while you did that, assistant coached for both the soccer and hockey teams. Ultimately, you made Team USA for the 1992 World Championship, where with Cammi you won a silver, named to the tournament All-Star Team. Two years later, at the Worlds in ‘94, you served as an ambassador to Norway's national team, went on into broadcasting. You were in the booth for when Cam and I won gold in 1998 with CBS and then a sideline reporter for the 1999 World Cup of soccer. Your husband, Jim, is a former hockey player and coach, has worked for the Maple Leafs organization. And of course, you are the uber matriarch, hockey mom of North America because you have three superstar sons. You've got Quinn, drafted number seven overall, plays D for Vancouver. You've got Jack, who is number one overall with the New Jersey Devils and of course, Luke, eligible for the draft this year. So welcome, Ellen. We can't wait to catch up with you.

Ellen: Thanks so much for having me. And thanks for the nice intro. I know, AJ, you see Jack here and there with the Islanders, could you remind him of some of those things, that I actually had a life? And Cammi, I know you've been nice enough to have Quinn over for dinner, not this year because of COVID, but maybe you could give him that whole intro again that, I did something other than just being their mother.

Cammi: Well, you know, it's funny. There is probably, I don't know what it was, maybe four or five months ago, you had sent me a video that you guys found, which we have to post on our social media channel here. But it was you as this little cute, blond, tiny little voice hockey player being interviewed in Texas, of all places, for hockey. Right? A woman, a female playing hockey, let alone kids playing hockey in Texas is so rare. Right? And I remember Quinn texting me and being like, said something about your skating, how bad it was. And I was like, little do all your kids know is that their talent comes from their mom. I've nothing—taking away nothing from Jimmy, because Jimmy was a great athlete himself. But you and Quinn play almost identical. And I'm going to keep reminding him of that.

Ellen: I love it. I love it. I usually get like just one word, dust[?] with things like that.

Cammi: Yeah, well, thank you for being here.

AJ: Yeah, yeah. But I want to start back with the fact that you grew up in a nontraditional hockey market. I know. According to USA Hockey, we’re not supposed to say that anymore because there are all—they don't really consider that anymore. There are so many with the Coyotes and the Stars and the two teams in Florida and Southern California. But when you grew up in Dallas, hockey was not a mainstream sport. I can imagine you had to have been playing on the boys team. Can you tell us what it was like growing up in Dallas then?

Ellen: Well, it's so funny because you see, you know, it's so exciting to see where the women's game has gone. And, you know, you forget how old you are and you kind of forget like, wow, that was pretty unusual what I was doing back then. And, you know, I'm even older than Cammi, so Cammi's older than you, AJ. Sorry to age you there, Cammi. But you forget that what we were doing in those times as young girls and how… you know, unusual it was, because we were fortunate enough to have parents that encouraged us and led us and pushed us and created those opportunities to play with the boys. And it's amazing to think that we did that and it seemed so normal to me. And my dad's been gone a long time, like he used to coach us. But I think about the fact that as a young girl in Dallas, Texas, a nontraditional market, to have a father that said, “Oh, you want to play hockey? Okay, you can play with the boys and you can go do those things.” And just how lucky I was to have a father that created those opportunities and supported those opportunities. And so it's pretty great. But we used to play down at the fairground. So, so people that know Dallas know that, you know, there's a fairgrounds downtown and the Cotton Bowl is played there every year. And there used to be a CHL team. So the old CHL. And so for us, it was very normal. I have an older brother that played and then went off to prep school and played at Deerfield Academy and then played Division three college hockey at Bowden. He could have played Division one, very academically oriented, and that's what he chose to do. So you want to do everything that your brother did. So when we were really little, we moved from St Louis to Dallas, and when I was in St Louis, all I wanted to do was play hockey. But in the state of Missouri, and I may have this factually not correct, but this is what my parents told me, that the girls weren’t allowed to play on boys’ teams in the state of Missouri. So when I knew I was moving, it was on my eighth birthday and my dad said, Well, it'd be great because you can play on- you can play hockey when you move to Dallas. So that's when I was so excited about the move. Like I could go play on a boys team because there was no girls’ teams to play on. And so there's only one team, if you're good enough, you play on the best team. And we would travel to St Louis, we would travel to Kansas City, we would travel to Colorado a couple of times a year and we would go play the best teams that we could possibly play. I just didn't understand at that point that was the world that I was living in, that that was unusual or different. So every once in a while I look back on it and think how fortunate I was to have parents that really not only supported it but encouraged it and let me really sow my own oats.

Cammi: When you were in St Louis, you saw the game of hockey around you. You wanted to play, you couldn't play. Did you play off ice then to be ready for when you moved and were like able to play or did you just start fresh when you moved to Texas?

Ellen: You know, I don't even remember. I was eight, so I don’t- I don't- it I must have been- I must have learned how to skate, but I wasn't playing. I don't really remember playing, like I remember running around the rinks with your brothers. I mean, you know how that is. You play mini sticks at the rinks, y’know. But I always wanted to play. I wanted to play everything. So, you know, I was just… and then off I went and I just started playing and I loved it. And I was fortunate because, you know, Cammi, you never went to Bob Johnson’s hockey school in Colorado, did you, in Aspen?

Cammi: No.

Ellen: I know, because I know you have a close relations with that whole Wisconsin crew. But every summer we spent the month of August in Aspen, and I would do the Bob Johnson Hockey School. So I actually think I did that like, at seven, before I ever moved, and they would always let me play. So it was Bob, it was Grant Standbrook, it was Jeff Sauer, all these people that, y’know, were so supportive of the women's game, Art Berglund who just passed away. And so I would spend my summers there playing and being groomed by the players that played with Tony at Wisconsin. It would have been their generation of players that were the camp counselors and that was right around the ‘84 men's Olympics. And a lot of those guys went on to play in that. So I think culturally that was exciting for me and that's where my passion grew.

Cammi: And you played soccer as a young girl as well.

Ellen: Yes. So soccer: really competitive. You know, we won youth nationals. And I was, I mean, it's crazy to think that I'm going to be 53 years old. And when I was being recruited to play women's soccer, there were 31 Division one schools across the country offering scholarships. And so Wisconsin was one of them. And I really wanted to go there because of my allegiance with that. But they had no women's hockey. So when we— [...]

Cammi: That's where I- me, too. I wanted to go as well. We would have been teammates instead of rivals.

Ellen: Right, at least for one year. I think you were a freshman my senior year. Is that right?

Cammi: Either junior or senior. Yeah. Yeah.

Ellen: [Laughs] So anyway, so the soccer side of things, you know, if you were an elite player, you wanted to go to UNC. My very best friend on the team growing up on my youth hockey, my youth soccer team was Carla Werden, you know her as Carla Overbeck, who became the captain of the team in the first World Cup team. Mia Hamm, I played with on my state team, so we were really good in those days. Brandi Chastain was my roommate at my first youth national team camp for soccer. So that was my, you know, generation of players. And I wasn't recruited by UNC, but I was recruited by some of the other top schools and I had this like, crossroads, where am I going to go to a school like UNH, where there are startup women's soccer programs, but yet I can play two sports. And they were offering me a full scholarship. And the crazy thing is there was no school in the state of Texas that was playing Division one Women's soccer. Think about that. Not a one. I mean, there was 31. I think there's 360 some odd schools, Division one programs at this rate for women's soccer. So that's how the landscape changed and that's how the lack of landscape really drove my next move.

Cammi: So you chose UNH. You played soccer and hockey, but then you also added lacrosse.

Ellen: Yeah. And the interesting thing about hockey is here I am, this girl coming out of Dallas and nobody knew about me. And as you know, Providence at the time, so all the Ivy Leagues were playing hockey and then we didn't have a lot of programs back then that were playing. So it was all the Ivy- it was the ECAC. So it was what, maybe 15 teams playing? How many, 22?

Cammi: Yeah, roughly 22.

Ellen: And so there weren't a lot of options. So there were so many girls playing that wanted to get on those teams. So I remember reaching out to Russ McCurdy who was the coach and saying, “You know, I'm being looked at by UNH for women's soccer, but I'm only coming there because I want to play women's hockey,” and he was like, “Oh, you know, you're probably not going to make the team. You know, we're a fully funded program.” I mean, you know how that goes, right? Right, right. Why would you take a girl out of Dallas you knew nothing about, playing in these, he asked if I was playing women's hockey at that time. And so I had- you know, I wasn't guaranteed a spot, but I'd watched them play, and my mom and dad watched them play. And I really, in my heart of hearts thought I'd be able to play. And they were a fully funded program and my scholarship was coming from soccer. And so, I decided that I wanted to do it. And he said, and I remember having Bob Johnson at the time call on my behalf. He called, he was at Wisconsin still, and he called and said, you know, she can play, she’s been with me every summer, and I really think you should give her a shot. So he said, okay. So the deal was, I was going to play soccer. Well all the women start with hockey, probably—when did we start, in the fall, like in mid-September. And they had the whole training camp, while I was still playing soccer until Thanksgiving. And so I said, when you get done with soccer, just come see me and I'll give you a week to try out, to get up to speed. So he really had no thought of me or like, there was no, like, ‘she's not making this team.’ So we finished soccer and then I went over to hockey and I remember after my first day he said, “What size states do you wear?” So that was like, that, that made me happy. Like that was it. I was on the team, so it was pretty good.

And then our women's soccer coach, Marge Anderson, was one of the most decorated women's lacrosse players in those days. She had played at UMass for soccer and hockey, and she was on the World Cup team for lacrosse. So she would take a couple of athletes a year because in those days you needed female athletes to play more than one sport, to really round out your depth of your programs. So she had encouraged me to come out and play lacrosse. I knew nothing about it. So our first year they had just won the national championship the year before, believe it or not. Did you guys know UNH won the National Women's Lacrosse championship? Different landscape in those days. So they had won the national championship. None of the Southern schools were playing. Nobody across the country was playing. It was a real Northeast-driven collegiate world. And so I walked onto this field and, um, let's just say… I wasn't very good. I could run, but my stick skills- and I learned and I did everything, and it was great, and we went to the Final Four, but I was out at that point. So everybody always says I played three sports like, I was on the team. I was, you know, three sports at that level. I was done at that point and I stuck with soccer and hockey after my first year. But it was a really cool experience.

AJ: Well, a kudos, too, by the way, to go back to something you just said, that McCurdy asked what size state you are. Kudos to UNH for giving you guys skates back in the 80s. I didn't get skates in college until my senior year, which was the fall of 1998. That was the first time I got skates bought for me. So that's, that's pretty good on UNH, I give the Wildcats props.

Cammi: Well, Ellen, you know what? So, Russ, I actually- I was. I was the same, a kid coming from Illinois. So, such a similar story where nobody wanted to talk to me really, until someone saw me play when I went out to the East Coast, I just played with a girls’ team for one game and I got seen by Providence. Other than that, I called Russ. Same thing. No interest, but I got to say, Russ, and I know what he meant to you, when I look at all the coaches that I've been coached with, he coached us at the — at the ‘92 World Championships where you were named best defenseman of that tournament. He taught me a lot, not about, not just about hockey, but just like how to organize yourself off life, how to make your bed every day. Like, there's things that stuck with me from Russ from that one or two, I think, seasons we had him. He was a special guy, you know. You know, I just— he never gets any recognition. He's very unknown. But did you remember that about him? Do you have that same sort of view of him that I do?

Ellen: Totally. And I'm still really tight with him and Sheila. And, you know, when you think about it, for what he did as a male player, you know, in that generation, he was a heck of a hockey player. And then, I don't know what he did, but he left the game and did something, you know, I'm not really sure what he did and came back to the game, but for his stature to come back and coach the women and do what he did, and he coached tennis as well, and he cared so much. He was so passionate about the game, and teaching the game, and teaching away from the game. And he cared so much about the people, you as a person. And I always laugh because, you know, Quinn had Donnie, you know, your brother, at the NTDP. And he reminds me a lot of Donnie. I don't know if you feel that way, but-

Cammi: I totally feel that way because as you say, first of all, from a mental standpoint, they're both like, they help you so much with the side, the mental side, and also the skill based stuff that Russ taught us. He goes beyond the game and I feel, yeah, it's really interesting that you say that because I can see that as well.

Ellen: And it's just the, you know, some people have their skills and then some people like, have different skill sets. And I feel that the best of the best try to cover all the different skill sets and really get to know the different human being and try to push the buttons. And it doesn't work for everybody. Not everybody would feel that way, but he was an amazing man and still is an amazing man. And I also think it's funny because one thing that, you know, I don't know how you are with the kids, but this sticks with me. And I don't know if you remember this, Cammi, but the interesting thing is, I've seen my boys be taught that same lesson from coaches at a younger level, and I can particularly say the NTDP level is: get up every day and make your bed. You've accomplished one thing. Do you remember that from him? And then it was either Donnie-

Cammi: No! Always.

Ellen: Or Wroblewski that I remember had Quinn and Brady, like, make your bed every day. And then I saw with, with Jack and Luke. Like, “we got to make our bed every day because that's orderly” and like, little things like that.

Cammi: Well, I got to say, Ellen, that stuck with me for— still to this day, I think of Russ when I make my bed. I'm not kidding. And I tell the kids the same, like if you just… and it resonated with me. So like, I don't know, it stayed with me. It resonated with me when he said it. And then his… just his stuff about practicing skill. And we hadn't really done that so much, as an, I guess where we were at Providence. Like we would just go practice, but like, he was working on skill-based stuff. He’s a very smart man. So I'm happy to hear that you're still in touch with him and you felt the same way. But I love that we're both making our bed because of Russ McCurdy. You taught your kids that.

AJ: I obviously didn't have Russ, I obviously didn't have Russ McCurdy, you can see behind me in my hotel room here. So I do not make my bed every day. And I know the value of it, but yeah, no, never had a coach who told me that.

Cammi: He was pretty special.

Ellen: Then. AJ, I was thinking about when you said about getting skates. I don't know how you guys were, but how would your shot be today? Like when I was playing, like, of course I couldn't shoot the puck because we would take the old men's sticks that were wooden and they would cut them down for us. Like, how would I have any flex on the stick?

AJ: Right? Right. So stiff. And it's like, it's crazy when you think about that, and the technology. And even when I did get a pair of skates, when I came back after the Olympics and played at Harvard, they were so much lighter. They were just… the material and everything, and then you look at the sticks and it's crazy. I mean, I never played with the one piece that they have now, that was just coming out when I was at the tail end of my career. But I remember I tried them, but the puck was all bouncy and I didn't like them. But you think about how quick the release and all the kick point on those sticks, that technology's insane.

Ellen: Right? You also think about how great the women are and where they're at. Like we didn't go in the weight room. We did not go in the weight room. The weight room was not for women's sports.

AJ: Our coach actually, my first year at Harvard before Katie Stone took over, he actually thought weightlifting was unbecoming for women. He didn't, he didn't book us. He wouldn't let us go in weight room. It was a, it was sort of an off limits thing. So he was a lovely man. But it was… not appropriate.

Cammi: Well, our Providence College coach, John Marchetti, who I love, I have always loved him as a coach. We had to beg him to just get us to get in shape. He thought women, that was just the way it was at the time. He was old fashioned and women would skate from the blue line in, so we would have half ice practices. And I was like, “We're out of shape. Like we got to skate!” “You guys don't need to skate full ice.” And it was literally all great intentions. Wonderful man. But that's what he felt. And I mean, think about that. Like I tried- it blows people away to think that that was the way it was. But that's how we were viewed as women. We can't exert ourselves the same way as men. And we were begging him to.

Ellen: Okay, now I know why we won, then. Why we beat you? Because we skated. [unintelligible]

Cammi: You didn't. You didn't beat me. Did you beat me when I was there?

Ellen: I don't know.

Cammi: We won. We won. I think we went the last year. You remember freshman year. I think you beat us in the finals. I think we[...]

Ellen: I think we met four years. Was just super cool, but I only — I was there five years. Much shorter. One year. But we went three years.

Cammi: Okay? We went three years. So we must have crossed over. And you beat us once? Yeah, you beat us. Let's get into the hockey mom stuff because I think a lot of moms are interested in the landscape of sport. Our kids that are passionate about anything. And it typically it's like, well, we know the sports world, but I mean, nowadays it's, it's everything. Like, whether it's music or some sort of non-sport, a passion that someone has. We're always trying to get our kids to pursue excellence. And AJ and I have talked a lot on this podcast, how sometimes things are flipped a little backwards and we're a little bit out of skew right now with the way we push our kids and just how fast they're put through the system. And you had three boys that you raised with Jimmy, who are now… two are NHL superstars. One's on his way. How, what was it like in your house? How did it start with the kids? What were you like as a mom and Jimmy as far as like, having, cultivating that for them?

Ellen: You know, it all seems like a blur. You know how that is, right? You're in the middle of it, both of you with young kids. So you're just day to day. I mean, you're day to day, right?

Cammi: Survival.

Ellen: Right? It's survival mode. So for me, you do things that you enjoy or you- you teach them things that you feel like you can teach them, Right. So it's kind of a slight on me that I wasn't more worldly and wanting to take them to museums. Or maybe like I felt like I had do those things because like, ‘Oh my God, what am I teaching them?’ But you tend to do the things that you - you're trying to find activities. Jimmy was off coaching a lot, I had three young boys that were really close in age. So what do I know? What can I do to pass time and keep them active? It was kicking a soccer ball. It was throwing a ball, it was doing rollerblading, it was passing the puck, it was taking them skating. So for me, those were mommy and me activities, right? And then every once in a while I'd be like, you know, I'd be like, ‘uh, we got to do Kumon, we gotta do like - we gotta read.’

You know, academics was really important to me because I felt like I was so driven the other way that like, I didn’t want to miss out on the other. So for us, it was never this grandiose plan, and I'm sure you guys were the same way. It was more like, ‘be the best at whatever it is you're doing, work your hardest at whatever it is you're doing.’ Working the hardest didn't mean scoring the most goals. It was playing the right way, whatever it is, being a great teammate and working really, really hard and we always felt like the other would come.

AJ: Do you feel like with your boys having you as a mom, Jim as a dad, did they feel pressure to perform on the rink?

Ellen: I don't think so, because we never put pressure on them. We would put pressure on them to work hard and play the right way. I mean, there were days I can remember with Quinn when we moved to Toronto, we were like “Ah, he’s doing pretty good, he’s a pretty good little hockey player. This is good.” Like, hmm. And we were coming from New Hampshire and Jimmy taking the job up in Toronto and we got there and I remember Jimmy going somewhere and he's like, “He is not even in the top 300 players in the city.” Do you know what I mean? Like he was, this thing was not—

Cammi: Was that what age? What age is that?

Ellen: He probably would have been… I'm trying to think when we moved. So Luke was born six, seven, eight, maybe? He was in first grade. What grade are you in first grade?

Cammi: Yeah, about seven or seven. Seven.

Ellen: And we thought he was doing great, but we never cared. What we would just say to him, like, and he was on a good little team and we would get beat by Ryan McLeod, who just played with Edmonton in and, and, Strome was on that team, Matty Strome, the youngest of the Stromes. And those two were like, I mean, I mean, they would score five, six, seven goals and I would be in awe how good they were at a little age - at a young age. So what we would do is we would just put them up against the best in the spring and in clinics and have them chase, try to be the best you can be. It was never like, “why aren't you that good” or “why are you scoring” or - and, you know, Jack was a little bit different. He came in and he was playing up a year with the older kids, you know. And Luke, we didn't even think about, like, third child, he's probably benefited the best because we were just trying to get the other two other places and we didn't even know how he played or what happened. And, and I think that was the other thing with them. You know, Jim was so busy working that we didn't watch ‘em practice. We didn't, you know, I might drop one at a the game and try to get to the other one to the game, to get to the other one to the game. So they had to self evaluate at a young age and really decide how they played. You know, you guys are probably the same way with your busy schedules.

AJ: Yeah, it's interesting. I look at it like I'm at the Nationals right now with my daughter Jamie, and talking to some of the parents last night and they were asking me like, what did you think of the game? And we were talking about it. But they don't watch far more than I do because I travel. So, you know, they're asking me, knowing that I have a hockey background. But it's to your point, I love coming to watch my kids play, but I really feel like I can just watch them and enjoy. I'm not coaching this year and it's a really- it is fascinating because I do feel like my kids have sort of they'll tell me how they played and, you know, usually they're tougher on themselves. I mean, I think most kids or most athletes are probably tougher on themselves anyway. But when- like as a hockey parent, I'm surrounded by people and you see all the studies about the low percentage of players that will make it from youth hockey to even D-1, let alone the NHL. You have three kids, three boys, two that are gone first round. Luke obviously is on his way to the NHL. So at what point did you think they were going to make it? Like, was there a time like you're talking about when Quinn was seven and you guys were just trying to have them compete? But was there a moment where you were like, wow, our - our kids are legit?

Ellen: You know, there was a point where I said, All right, this is good. Like, they're going to get to Division one college hockey. Like, I was pretty pumped. And at the end of the day, there's a point where you say you can only provide so much information and now they have to have their inner drive. Now that's gotta kick in. And I think for each one of them, that was when they got to the program. So for junior hockey, I guess, would be the equivalent. And I think it's the every day focusing on getting better, doing I mean, living it, eating it, not liking it, loving it. Y’know? And there's kids who get better from 18 to 20. There's, you know, you got to keep getting better. Doesn’t matter if you're the best at 16 or 15. So I saw my kids take different paths, you know, and just staying to have fun and having fun. Having fun is everything, as you know. You know, I mean, it's got to be fun. I mean, Cammi, you have two sons who are elite little soccer players, but if they're not having fun, that changes their drive for wanting to get better.

Cammi: Fully and if it's not cultivated as well, I mean, you have to have the right people above you and leading you and coaching you to believe in just playing and not just playing for- to be this best. There's a lot of pressure on kids these days and I think about your boys and knowing your boys and, and getting to know Quinn better since he's been out here as a person. Your kids are such great people. They're so well-balanced. They're such they get it. Like when they met Reese and Riley, my sons, they get it. They look kids in the eye. They joke around. They look adults in the eye. I mean, there's- they're just great kids. The other thing I noticed about them and and before I let you comment is when they play, when things are not going their way, they go straight ahead, like there's no pouting, there's no emotion. I mean, of course, we get emotional about the game, but as far as like, you know, what you taught them, like, where did that come from, that confidence and that humility and then that just that drive inside to just keep going?

Ellen: Well, you are awfully kind. And, you know, it's like, up and down. You know how parenting is right. And, you know, for me, it's the competitiveness. You both were uber competitive, Olympians, got to the highest level, accomplished so much, gold medals. So you know, that competitiveness. So you instill that in your children. You don't realize that you're doing it, but it just organically happens. Right? I'm sure. And AJ I see some of the fun things that you do, but I'm sure it's competitive at dinner, whether it's, you know, Boggle that you're playing or - I aged myself. But you know what I mean? Or Jenga that you're playing or if it’s a race, or- everything is a game at my house! Like, Luke and Quinn this summer. We had a lot of time together and they're creating a game out of nothing in the pool. We're like - Jack and I are looking at each other like, ‘What are those two doing?’ Like, it's games and there's a winner and there's a loser. So for me, I think it's more about they really care about winning. They really want to win. And in everything’s a team sport and they wanna - They take it personally. They want to be the best that they can be to help their team win. You know, whether it's giving something up and feeling bad about that and wanting to get it back. And that's probably the same mindset both of you had as Olympians. Is that fair to say?

AJ: Yeah. I mean, I think that that is, you know, the ultimate drive to compete is something that I'm not sure can be cultivated. Right. I mean, I think you but what what is so impressive about your boys is that the balance that Cammi’s talking about. Right. That confidence and that drive to compete coupled with the humility and on seeing them being interviewed, seeing the way they carry themselves at a very young age, that that's what I think is, you know, you and Jim should be very, very proud of. But I do think that that drive to win and it's not win at all costs, but it's win whether it's the right way or as a part of the team. I think that that is something that can be very unique. And obviously they come from two very competitive elite athlete parents. So they were, they were given that at a young age. I was just reminded while you were- we were talking about Quinn, last year in the playoffs, do you remember getting a text from me Ellen, when I talked about in on the broadcast, I talked about Quinn, he was so relaxed playing the power play that it was like he was playing shinny hockey. S H I N N Y and I got blown up on Twitter that people thought I said he played S H I T T Y hockey. That I was like, ‘oh my God, the Hughes family hears me on NBC telling like’ and it was a compliment. I mean, it was like the utmost like, this is amazing how great he is that, you know, as a young player in the NHL playing with this sort of poise but also like freedom, he just plays with his freedom. And I'm sitting there thinking and my producer was like, “You can't use that term. That's such a hockey term.” Like, who doesn't know shinny hockey? But anyway, that was just so.

Ellen: So I laughed at that when I got your text and I think I wrote back like, “it's okay if you ever want to say he's saying the other - the S H hockey too.”

AJ: I would never say that.

Ellen: You know the game, you're allowed to say that and we would be just okay with it. We would probably agree with you.

Cammi: So when you're watching Ellen, when you get to watch your kids and I know I've texted you before, I'm like, I wonder if she's still up. But of course, you're watching the games when you're on the East Coast and you're watching them and watching the West Coast games, probably late at night. Right, with Quinn. And... can you relax? Like, are you feeling like now? Like you can relax? Is it still, like, feel intense? Like, what's the feeling that you get as a mom? You know, I know Luke’s on his way, but like, do you get to see you get to enjoy it all? Do you get to sit back and enjoy it?

Ellen: Let me ask you this. When you watch Riley play and it's a big game and [unintelligible], how do you feel?

Cammi: So do you feel like at every game - do you feel like that every game?

Ellen: Well, your logic tells you it should change.

Cammi: Yeah.

Ellen: But I think it's just your competitiveness. But I can tell you this. Now my oldest two are at a level where I don't get involved in the hockey anymore, I just really try to be a support system. They don't need to hear from me when they get to the next level. You don't know how many people are badgering them or bothering them or sending texts[?]. And you know, they got here because this point, they got here and they're driving their own business. They don't need to hear from me. Now, do they… Do they lean on Jimmy with hockey? Do I know a lot about hockey? But I just need to be a different support system for them. You know, I need to be an outlet for them and someone that's not going to talk about hockey unless it's something specific. Does that make sense? Like when I talked to Quinn today, it wasn’t about last night's game. It was about other things, you know, he's got enough of last-

Cammi: That makes sense.

Ellen: And he's got this - he doesn't need to hear from his mother, that that ship has sailed. Does that make sense? And I don't mean that in a negative st-

Cammi: Totally, because.

Ellen: It's just that's not what they need and, and that's not what I want to be that - be there for them. That type of support system.

AJ: I don't know how you got away without having one of them play goalie. I'm just going to leave it out there.

Ellen: Well, Luke. [...] Luke in net. and I was telling this to someone the other day, I mean, I got funny stories, like when you say, oh, you guys were great parents. I'm like, Oh, really? Like the time I showed up for this massive tournament with Jack and Jimmy's taken everybody's skates sharpened and I got everybody’s skate sharpened and he was off somewhere. I was going to meet him at the university. I'll tell you one story. So this is just typical. So their cousin was playing for B.C. and we wanted to go to a college game because we want to expose these kids that were growing up in Toronto to what college hockey was, so that that could be an option. So we took ‘em to see B.C. versus Michigan, their big cousin. We're driving down and Jack had this massive tournament, which we thought was massive as a you know, you always think these youth tournaments are massive and have grandiose importance, sorry, because you are at nationals and that is important with your daughter AJ. So Jimmy had said, I think Quinn was going to play in Michigan. And I said, okay, I'll bring the boys down I’ll get the skates sharpened and then Jack and I will leave after the game. We won't tell his coach that, like, we're getting into a hotel in London at one in the morning to drive around- around the lake to get to Buffalo for his 9 a.m. game. So I'm driving to Michigan first so he can see his cousins. And then whereas all the other parents are in Buffalo for that 9 a.m. game spending the night getting a good sleep right. Well I let him come watch his brother play. I left two hockey bags with Jim, of Luke's bag and Quinn's bag and I, Jack and I left after the game. We got into London at like one in the morning. We went to sleep. We got back up at six and off he goes for his game. When we get to Buffalo, I'm like, ‘This is great. I did it.’ And they're playing. I think they're playing Shattuck St Mary's and Oliver Wahlstrom is on the other team just to give you a few names. Right. So because he's an Islander, right AJ?

AJ: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Had a goal last night.

Ellen: And it was a non parent coach. So you don't talk to these coaches. I don't think I had a conversation with them and they're young they’re- I don’t know Jack was an underager so he's playing up a year. And so the coach calls me. He's like, “ Umm... We've got a problem. Can you come back to the locker room?” So I go back to the locker room and he goes, “Ummm Luke skates are in Jack's bag.” You know what that means? Where are Jack’s skates? In Luke’s bag or God knows where, right? So I'm like, agh and they're like, “Where are Luke’s skates?” And like, I think he - I left his bag in Toronto. So at this point. So I look at Jack, I'm like, “What you want to do?” and he goes, “Find [buy?] me some skates.” and I'm like, “Okay, what size are your skates?” So I go around, I find the Chicago mission, and if he was in CCM some guy had a Bauer of a size four and a half or five or six or whatever he was in, and they're like, You can borrow these skates, but our game is offset from yours so you can only play until we need the skates back.

Cammi: Oh my God.

Ellen: Right?

AJ: I'm like, my stomach's dropping listening to this. I know.

Ellen: So he’s in these random skates and sorry to go off on a tangent here, but you saying you were great, You know, we do the same things that everybody else does. So it wasn't a completely tightly run ship. So. But maybe that's the adaptability. So Jack goes out and he plays two great periods, and all of a sudden I see this guy walk around and you see them take Jack's skates off. And this is a tight game and it's a big tournament. And he sits on the end of the bench with no skates for the third period. So here you are. We both have - we all have husbands. So Jimmy’s like, “How was the game?” I'm like, “He played great for two periods and let's just leave it at that.” He's like, I was. [unintelligible] But so anyway.

AJ: Yeah, I think that's building resilience. I think you're right. There is something to be in moment. It's- that's the worst feeling possible. But in retrospect, it's a great story, right? And it's one period of hockey that-

Ellen: [unintelligible] five like that running down the coach whenever Jack's hockey bag and his helmet was sideways like, I hope you guys have stories like that.

Cammi: Oh, man. You know what is funny is, those- that's just part of sport and part of the life where you have that happen. But I do as a kid, remembering, feeling like there was nothing more important. And I remember my brother Tony had just got his license. He was driving me over to a friend's house that was going to take me to an away game. It was about 45 minutes away. He went through a stop sign with just skated through a stop sign, hit the front of another car. I'm in the front seat. No seatbelt at that time. Right. And the first thing he goes, “You okay?” and the first thing I said is, “I'm not going to miss my game, am I?” And sure enough, we had to drive home. Somehow we got home. My mom is pregnant with my younger brother Joey, eight months pregnant, and I somehow cried my way into making my mom get in our trans van massive truck with Tony in the passenger seat, driving through snow to get me to the game, which I got there in the third period. But it was to me it was like, I know that feeling like it's- you cannot miss, you cannot. And I see with my kids too. So yeah, those are the best. Some of those are the best memories actually, right?

Ellen: I'll give you one.

AJ: We spent about five and a half hours driving down here to Philadelphia. My daughter, I think, checked nine times to make sure her stuff was in the bag because I had to. She was at school and I had to get it. She does not trust me at all. I'm like, okay, yeah, you just make sure you got two- a right and a left skate in there.

Ellen: I'll give you one last story. To just - to say, like, like here I am, a hockey mom, thinking I’m going to teach my kids to skate. So when Jimmy was coaching in Boston with Robbie Ftorek, I didn't have Luke yet, so Jack... Quinn must've been three. So I wanted to have some one-on-one time. You know, with your first child, you feel like you have your second child and you just need some one-on-one time. So there was free kindergarten skating at the Reading arena. And so we were living in.. in uh.. oh my god I can’t even remember - right around the corner from there. So anyway, so every Tuesday I would take Quinn to skate and that's how he learned to skate. Like it wasn't like I was teaching him strides, I was teaching him to skate. I was getting him on skates. So I was really proud of this kid. He’d gotten off his crates that he was pushing and blah, blah, blah, blah. And at that point Robbie's parents were still alive. Steve and Ruth and they were amazing. And we would go to the games and, and so they didn't live far from there. So they wanted to come watch little Quinn that they see at the Bruins games skate. And I was so proud that I’d taught this kid to skate y’know, he was standing up on his own, he was pushing, the whole bit. So Steve comes out who had taught Robbie how to skate and Robbie was a great skater and I'm like this particular day, Quinn is terrible. He must have been three. Like he just looked like he had two left feet. I’m like, “he's not skating like, I swear, like he could skate, like, something's not right.” And Steve goes, “Ellen, I think his skates are on the wrong feet.” And they were! Do you know how little skates are? Yeah. How would you know? Like [unintelligible]. So we laugh about that story. So, Quinn doesn't know. He can't communicate to tell me that his skates are on the wrong feet. We sit him down, like literally in the doorway. We switch his feet and off this kid goes. And he's pushing and like a little three year old and he's doing great. So that's one of my many [unintelligible] stories.

AJ: But just to make you feel better, I did that to my son Sam, when he was however old, probably five. We went skiing. It was ski boots on the wrong feet. He kept telling us his feet hurt. And we basically were like, You're fine. It's just ski boots they hurt. And the end of the day I was like, Oh yeah, no, they really hurt. That's actually a legitimate point. So been there!

Cammi: Before we wrap up here and get to our rapid fire, I just wanted to ask you about the couple of times where I've seen the boys play tog- Well they played together on the World Junior team and it was in Vancouver. Jack and Quinn played together. What was that like and what was it like when they played their first NHL game toge- against each other for the Jersey Devils and for the Vancouver Canucks? Can you take us through those two times and what it felt like?

Ellen: Yeah, that's great. I mean, the- we had the fortune of them playing together at the World Junior Showcase up in Kamloops the summer before, leading up, kind of the tryouts. So I think that was my first experience. It was great. It was great. Really competitive. They played together. They were on the same PP that was a ton of fun. They were on the ice together a lot. Then the World Juniors that- in Vancouver, that was great too. But Jack was injured, so he was kind of in and out of the lineup, but it was just really great for them to be able to, as- they're so tight, they're best of friends, all three of them. So I think it was more letting them have that experience together and you know, you're disappointed for them in the way that the outcome was because they were so close to winning a gold medal. But it was super cool. It was a lot of fun. And then when they played against each other it was super special, I think for our family, just because it was the first time we got to share something like that with our whole family, we had a huge crew there. The Devils were nice enough, they were amazing. They had a box there and we were able to have all Jim's extended family there from the Northeast, which is a huge group of people. And Jack happened to score his first goal that night. So that was a relief and great and exciting. And then the next time they played together Cammi we went with you. You had the boys and Ray, and that was a great game, too, right? That was a lot of fun. I think the biggest thing is I like it better when they're not on the ice at the same time, especially with one being a D and one being a forward. I prefer, and it's hard to watch them. I don't know who you guys are, but AJ, your daughter right now at Nationals, is a stay at home defenseman so you watch all the D and you have a good feeling. It's really hard to watch two positions let alone two teams play.

AJ: I agree with that when I think about what you're, what you went through, with that and it's not even allegiance of which team you want to win. It's more what they're doing individually and you can't focus. I think that must have been so cool. Was there added pressure on the boys? Did you notice any nerves that night playing against each other?

Ellen: No, but I don't know what kind of side bets there were. Like. I'm going to need [unintelligible] Haha I could have used a girl so I could get a little more information, a daughter y’know they’re a little more forthcoming. I think it was exciting. They were both very young. I mean, it's crazy to think they entered their rookie year together. I think as they, y’know, hopefully have a really long, sustained career. That's your greatest hope for all of these players that play in the professional sports is to be able to stay healthy and have a long, sustained careers. So I think as they age and- it'll be more and more fun to watch it evolve.

AJ: Now we're talking about Quinn and Jack. Is there. Do you think that there's added pressure on Luke right now because of the successes that his brothers have had?

Ellen: You know, it's funny because I always worried about that with Luke, like, you know, as a parent, you know, I want them to all be successful in their own right. I want them all to have their own passion. I want them to care about school and do well in school and so, you know, you're always like, which one needs what someone will, you know, whatever it is you want to try to support them. And so Luke was really small for a while and he was playing against kids that had already hit puberty. And- and you know, I know you dealt with that Cammi with Riley and then he took off and he blew them like his whole game was a new you know, as soon as that- the playing field was evened. And that's a hard thing to try to nurture them through, you know, like, “just keep going” and “it's okay,” and “you’re gonna have your man strength,” and “you’re gonna have more separation speed because of that,” so Luke was really young and I mean, it took him a while before he grew. And so I wondered in my heart, like, is there pressure on him? Does he feel bad about himself? Like, I didn't know, you know what I mean? So then he made the program, which he just kind of started to take off.

Never in a million years did I think he was going to be 6’2” like you could’ve- I would never. I mean, he was who would have thought he was going to tower over his brothers? He was so late. So we used to talk to him about it, you know, and I used to try to ask, but it's hard to get information. But he drove his own bus and he had his own inner desires and his own inner strengths. And it never seemed to faze him or bother him, which, you know, was- we tried to communicate about it like you guys would as parents.

Cammi: It's so wonderful. I just love your whole family. I love everything you guys have instilled in your boys. I love watching them. We're such you know, we've grown so much closer. We get to see each other more often. And I just yeah, I commend you and totally appreciate all the insight that you've given us today. We've kept you a long time on, but we have our not so rapid, rapid fire, if you don't mind answering some rapid fire questions you can answer ‘em slow or fast. It's up to you. AJ and I seem to go the slow way sometimes with our long questions. But let's put you in the hot seat.

AJ: So, yeah, this means you're coming to the front of the bus. So I don't know if that in the bus or trips that you went on that meant you were in trouble. But I'll say that just.

Ellen: Time out before you go. Where were you guys on the bus?

Cammi: I was in the back on the right, about maybe three seats from the bathroom, two or three seats from the bathroom, and AJ was up front.

AJ: I was more like middle, but on the other side. So it was like.

Cammi: You were like two rows ahead. Yeah. Yeah, where were you?

Ellen: Cammi. I think I was right where you were.

Cammi: Yeah. Okay

AJ: Not quite far enough back for, like, all the crazy card games and everything like that, right? That was always our bus. There was a lot of shenanigans in the way back of the bus. Actually maybe our rapid fire should be called Go to the back of the bus. That might be a little I don't know, might be a little different. All right. So here we go. Let's start. What is your favorite youth hockey, or any sports since you played a lot of sports, memory?

Ellen: Probably winning the national championship with the Dallas Sting in soccer, which still today is one of the premier club teams in the country.

AJ: Oh, that's a good one. How old were you?

Ellen: I was probably 15. And then one other thing is we went to China when I was 15. That was a pretty cool experience. Before women's soccer had a national team and they were playing, they were having their first international tournament. And since we had won the club championship they sent us, which is amazing to think they sent a bunch of women to China to play in an international tournament. You know.

AJ: That’s very cool.

Cammi: How’d you guys do?

Ellen: We won it.

Cammi: You're kidding.

Ellen: There's actually someone that's trying to, I just get the emails, that’s trying to make a movie about it, because it's pretty unheard of.

Cammi: It's amazing.

AJ: That is amazing. So we didn't really get into this. The one thing we were carrying our time up for is that you had the good fortune of having all of your boys home during COVID. Maybe a silver lining to what was going on in the world. Everybody got to be back under one roof. But when everyone's home, what's your go to family dinner?

Ellen: Oh, our go to family dinners, steak. They are all about steak. So steak and pesto pasta with a spinach salad is the go to. They would eat steak every night.

AJ: Oh, that sounds good.

Ellen: Cammi, Quinn’s cooking [?]. Believe it or not, [unintelligible]. When they're allowed to go places next year in Vancouver over you and Ray should-

Cammi: I can keep him honest for that?. Yeah, I know I will definitely. If I know that now. What is he cooking in these?

Ellen: Cooking steak and lots of he cooks some, tuna ahi tuna and lots of peppers and veggies and that's a good thing about COVID. Is that most of these young kids have learned to cook, which is amazing.

AJ: That is amazing. That's actually that is another- that's a good silver lining. I know. Speaking of your three boys, Quinn, Jack and Luke, which one was most mischievous as a kid.

Ellen: And I mean, you know how it is, it's a three month cycle like, just like one needs your attention more than the other when they were little. But um… Quinn and Jack together? This is not rapid fire, but I can remember when they were really level and I don't know. And I've already taken up too much of your time. But I remember Jimmy had taken off to Toronto and, oh no, then he must have been littler than this and Jimmy and I, Luke was just born, maybe six months old, and we heard this rustling. You know, you have that in the baby room, on the other room. And I don't know if this has happened to either one of you. And I'm like, it was like six in the morning. You're trying to get sleep, and I heard something. I mean, “Jimmy, what is that?” You know, So we listen to the voice and they had this grandiose idea that they were going to throw the baby out of the crib, Jack was inside the crib, picking up Luke to hand him off to Luke- to Quinn, who wasn't big enough, it was going tobe a drop outside the crib. So let's just leave with that. Right?

Cammi: How old were they? How old were they when that happened?

Ellen: Luke was under one because he couldn't get out, right? I mean, it was not a great plan. Then. Thankfully, we rescued them.

Cammi: So if you would have had that nanny cams that are the baby cams, that would have been brilliant to have that on video.

Ellen: Right.

AJ: Good. Some Hughes boy mischief. I like it. Now, of the three, who is the most competitive?

Ellen: Probably, I don't, I can't.

Cammi: Can’t choose, you’re a mom.

AJ: Yeah no I actually we were just talking about the drive to win and everything. I understand that. But it's all three, I guess. Now we you, you mentioned being nervous still, when you watch your boys play, what can you remember being the most nervous you've ever been as a sports parent?

Ellen: Mmm that's a tough one. Probably for me, it's not about the kids. It was more about the team. So, you know, having your kids go through the NTDP you want them to win these big tournaments. So you’re nervous for the group because you want so well, they're representing their country so the World Championships, the World Juniors, I mean, Cammie, you've sat with me and seen me between periods at the World Juniors, so that might be a fair one you can attest to, like, you're like, Really? You probably walk away from meeting with the boys between periods and me. Like, she's a little wacky over there. I don't know.

Cammi: Oh, they love you.

Ellen: You're stressed. Not for your kids. You're stressed for the team in your country. And you want so well, you want them to win! Their competitive side and they're tight. And you’re just on the edge of your seat. More like a fan, I would say, than a mother. So much too. Is that fair to say?

AJ: Yeah. Did you ever coach any of them?

Ellen: Yeah,

AJ: I think they're so close in age. You. Oh, you did?

Ellen: Yeah. So I coached them in soccer. I coached them in lacrosse, but they played box lacrosse. I didn't coach them in hockey. They would do a lot of spring hockey. What I would do is get on the I would just buy outdoor ice like and I would run the skates. But when I say I would run the skates is, I would get out of the way. I would turn the nets. Three on three, three on three, three on three, no direction, just let them. And then it was more, you know, just playing, like the environment, the competitors setting up the competitive- competitive mini games. So that type of stuff as extras.

AJ: The last question we have for you is what advice would you have to hockey parents out there or what kind of motto did you guys, would you say you followed?

Ellen: You know, who gave us really good advice, especially as they got older were Keith and Chantal Tkachuk. They were amazing role models for us. Quinn was fortunate enough to live with them and, and Keith always. They always said it, just be a great teammate, be a great human being, great- be a great person and work hard, be one of the hardest working. Get out there and have fun. You know, I know it's easy to say, but there's so many great things you can do in this life. There's so many greater things you can do in this life. You know, you find your passion, find lots of passions and be you and follow your heart in whatever it is that your [passion is like, live it, eat it, drink it and be it. I mean, I think those are the same advice that both of you as past Olympians give your own children.

Cammi: That's wonderful.

AJ: That is, that's awesome. And you are so awesome. I love hearing the sort of inside scoop from the first family of hockey, the Hughes family, and everybody's favorite hockey mom, Ellen Hughes. But at the same time, I love also taking that little walk down memory lane to make sure everybody remembers what a stud you are.

Ellen: Well, I so appreciate it. And I'm having so much fun listening to you two on your podcast. It's amazing what you're doing. I think you're amazing human beings. You both know how I feel about you and my admiration for what you've done for the women's game and what you're still doing in the game of hockey is so cool and you're both trailblazers. And I love this podcast and I love the guests that you have on. I take myself out of that like I don't fit in the realm of guests.

AJ: Yes, yes you do.

Ellen: I'm just saying that in the heart of hearts, I love the guests you've had on, and keep rocking it. You two are amazing and I'm lucky to have you as friends. And AJ, I laugh. I think about watching you at the Olympics and Cammi and I already had a relationship because we played together. And then I think about you today. And it's incredible.

AJ: And you are. I do remember you paved the way for us, but I do. I'm glad. I think you're buttering us up just in case I say, I will say anything negative about your sons on the ice, which so far I haven't had to because they're such superstars. But, you know, don't hold it against me if I do.

Ellen: You know, And then and hopefully things will get back to normal and we'll be traveling and I'll see you guys one day.

Cammi: Well, Ellen, thank you so much for being here. We were so happy you joined us and we'll have to have you on again at some point. And when the whole quarantine is over, well, I'll be looking forward to when you come to watch Quinn in Vancouver here.

#thank you to leo without whom this would just be sitting unfinished in my google drive for eternity #ellen weinberg-hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #transcript

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