blerb-f1

[blerb-f1]

September 25, 2010 - Singapore

#blerb show and tell

[blerb-f1]

Paddock shenanigans

Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader PART TWO

This is a Sequel - find part one here

“Oscar, have you seen Y/N since the whole ‘setting your car on fire’ thing?” Mark Webber asked, fiddling with his steaming coffee mug. 

“No. Dr. Roberts returned and Y/N was off training with the FIA. Don't you remember that? You were the one that told me in the first place!” Oscar complained. Mark shook his head. “Right - I totally forgot. I got my hands full of your contract negotiation goin' on. Have you spoken to Y/N at least? I know you got her contact info.”

Now it was Oscar's Turn to shake his head. “Y/N had to hand off her phone. Secret FIA stuff or something. Training's been pretty intense from what I've heard. Almost a Bootcamp. Appears Dr. Roberts really wants to retire about now. “

Before Webber could answer him, however, his phone's special chime went off. A message directed to Oscar, who'd managed to toss his own phone in the bath, had arrived. Y/N was now fully starting at her position coming the Saudi Arabian GP.

The young Australian driver smiled as he read it.

As the GP weekend rolled around, Oscar found himself excited. Y/N was good to be around - or more than that. He couldn't really tell himself. 

The paddock was lively with music blasting, though not that much to his liking. The practice sessions went well for him, less good for Carlos Sainz Appendix. Y/N was the one to order him to the hospital. Oscar himself hadn't had the chance to spot the woman yet, but a chance would surely arise.

The second he finished that thought, Oscar spotted a familiar gloomy appearance.

Y/N stood in the distance, long black sleeves cuffed at the end, puffing up at her shoulders and fluttering in the wind, a dark hat resting on top of her hair. The second she spotted him, she jumped up and waved but also dropped her cup of coffee.

Oscar rushed over to her, ignoring the media, snapping pictures. 

“Nice to see you, Y/N. It's been so long! Should i call you Dr. L/N now?”

Y/N chuckled. “I don't think that's necessary after I managed to set your car aflame. Was McLaren angry at you?” 

Oscar cringed on the inside. The chewing out he'd received afterwards wasn't exactly simply lovely. “A bit. But it's all good, McLaren saw this as a chance to fix the car.” He took a simple look down at the spilled coffee on the ground. 

“Fancy a new mug of coffee? My treat at the McLaren Hospitality?”

“Coffee sounds good. Let's go!”

The Walk to the hospitality was short, letting Y/N sip on her new Latte Macchiato much earlier than she could have hoped to. 

“You look quite simple today. What's up with that?”

“That's pretty direct Oscar. Short answer: I'm a doctor now, can't turn up in a full face of makeup that gets somewhere it's not supposed to. Everything else? This is a Muslim country. Didn't wanna rock up too revealing - not that i usually am.”

“I feel like the bite you spoke of the last time we met is kinda gone Y/N.” Oscar exclaimed.

The woman just pressed her face on the tabletop, sighing loudly. 

“Oh Honey, you wouldn't know. Be happy you're a driver - FIA bootcamp is hell.”

“Hell?” He laid his head to the side, looking like a depressed puppy.

“Sleep deprivation, caffeine overdosing and overworking. They had me going from morning till evening and then last minute studying.” Her fingers were shaking as if the sheer thought was causing her agony. “I am, however, very well-prepared for this job now. Dr. Roberts can retire in peace now. I also got to meet someone great.”

She perked up at that before pulling out her phone. The wallpaper presented to Oscar showed her standing next to a lady in an old-school racesuit, looking quite old herself.

“I got to meet Michèle Mouton! I got to practise driver extraction on her!” With her voice rising high, one could feel Y/N getting excited.

“The rally Legend? That's hella cool Y/N. Though your fangirling makes me think you'd prefer working with her than in F1” Oscar teased her.

“Shut up mate! It's Michèle Mouton! Who wouldn't fangirl meeting her! She was quite happy seeing me enter the world of Motorsport. She even took me on driving laps around circuits and even road track's. Believe me, she scared the carsickness out of me.”

“So our doctor doesn't need a doctor of her own after a car ride? That's nice - i feel like I'm in much better hands now. Have you told the other drivers yet?”

Y/N balled her fists. “Who allowed you to be so cocky, huh? I rescued you from becoming cooked chicken in Qatar. Be grateful.”

Oscar bowed forward. “Thank you, dear saviour. How could i ever repay this favour?”

Y/N pondered for a second before answering. As she turned to speak, her beeper announced itself.  She read the little device before downing her coffee and standing up. “Sorry Oscar, that'll have to wait. I need to check over Ollie Bearman and his dad. Both are nervous wrecks. See you!”

She spoke before running out, sleeves fluttering like a crow's wing. 

Qualifying went well though Oscar couldn't spot the doctor again. Only after the actual race on Sunday did he catch her again - standing next to the medical car still in her racesuit, talking to a few FIA employees about something. Her hair had been put into a tight braid, looking disheveled from the helmet sitting on top. 

As she caught Oscar, she said goodbye to her colleagues before speeding off. 

“Congrats Oscar! I bet it felt great to finally leave Lewis behind you.” She greeted him.

“It sure did - a podium would have been nicer though”, Y/N fumbled around the medical bag slung over her shoulder before procuring a bottle of water of which she quickly downed half. “You came back nice and healthy - so that's all that matters. Want some?” She finished off with a question. Oscar took the bottle, letting the leftover water run down his throat. “Very good. You've been looking a little red again. Make sure to drink enough.”

“Yes Doctor, i will.” He cheekily responded to her. “So what did you want from me as payment for your chivalrous deed? Well, both good deeds now. Nothing's for free when you're concerned. I bet you want repayment.”

Y/N placed her hands on her hips. “Of course Oscar - take example of the Dutch. They even want you to PayPal a Euro if they buy you something.”

“Glad then that i haven't been in Max debt yet.” Oscar smiled at her again. “Want me to repay you in monetary value?”

Y/N sat the bag down on the floor, packing the waterbottle before turning to him again.

“I'd like you to take me out for dinner somewhere. You've got my number, right? I know Mark got you a new phone. So contact me with the time and place. I gotta go now! FIA isn't kind to people being late.” 

With that she zoomed off again, leaving Oscar behind in mild confusion. Had she just asked him to take her on a date? Apparently. He'd better get researching then.

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Sorry for dissaprearing for so long - at first Exam Season kicked my butt and then writing papers was my 13th reason. Enjoy, i'll try to update more!

#f1 x reader #blerb writes #oscar piastri #carlos sainz x reader #f1

[blerb-f1]

Hi!!! I just discovered your vettel × reader posts here. Wanted to appreciate them properly rather than just a tiny comment. Especially the one with seb returning to merc wow wow wow. The way you presented his determination gave me chillsssss. Can I ask if you plan to continue seb at merc? And if you are, would you prefer prompts or some other particular request? In any case, even if you are done with the trope this was amazing. So glad I found it :)

Heyy, thank you for asking me! You're the First person to contact so so I'm very happy :3

I plan to continue the story with Seb at Mercedes as i still think there's room to grow. I'd also like to write something about Lewis and his retirement.

Please send in prompts or whatever you like! I'll try to fit them into my writings as much as i can. I tend to write very much on whims so i might move some stuff around, but inspiration is always good and appreciated!!!

I'm currently pretty slow because I'm knee deep in university exam season but that doesn't stop me from procrastinating and writing fanfiction ;)

#blerb-f1's blerbs

[blerb-f1]

"The Future" - Sebastian Vettel x reader

The news truly shocked me and compelled me to write this.

Lewis Hamilton is a side character in this.

not proofread i dont have the mental capacity rn

This fic also is kinda part of a series, but it can stand on it's own! For more, view my masterlist.

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“Have you considered it at least?”

A fragmented voice sounding through a tin-like phone speaker asked with a certain pressure behind it. The kind of pressure you’d only hear from people who wanted something. Something important.

Sebastian eyed the phone hesitantly, placing it on the windowsill while holding his watering can. Little droplets sliding down it’s side as he attempted to water his dried pot of basil - traveling was never something that helped in plantkeeping, not when you’d spend half the year in random hotels somewhere in the world.

He did not feel the need to return to the circus known as Formula 1, having enjoyed his time there but entirely content with retirement. Opposed to some of the others, he thought, he knew when to quit. No longer circling the biggest cities on earth but the supermarket parking lot in hopes of finding an empty spot. More importantly, waking up in his own bed for 7/7 days a week was a major joy to him, a feeling he didn’t feel like giving up.

“You know as well as i do, that we need an  experienced driver. George’s good but… He just can’t give us the direction needed.” Toto sounded quite serious at that moment - Lewis deciding to leave must have hurt him badly, considering him approaching Sebastian.

“Also… I just want someone i can trust to be around me”

Looking up in surprise, Seb almost dropped the watering can on the floor. Lewis leaving had REALLY hurt him.

“I’ve been thinking about retiring from F1 now. But they’d probably cancel F1 Academy without me around. Force Susie into Submission. I don’t want that. Fuck no.”

“Toto, I-” Sebastian started speaking, plucking the dead leaves from his pot of basil. “I like life. I love peaceful mornings.”

Silence. The phone speaker didn’t echo out for a few moments. 

“What would you say, if i told you we had a championship winning car?”

—-----------------------------------------------

“You really agree to it?” Sebastian asked, Surprise lingering on his voice.

“Of course i do, i’ve seen you thirst for racing while you yourself didn’t. I was with you from the beginning till the end of your career, don’t you think i’d be able to read you by now?” Y/N answered him, their eyebrows pulled together in a mild emotion.

“But there’s a catch.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be your race engineer. Like i’ve always been”

“Huh?” Seb asked again, this time even more surprised than before. Y/N nodded seriously. “I can’t see you race with another Engineer at your side. It feels wrong.”

The man man pondered for a moment, his brain racking. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Toto.”

A week later, Mercedes made an announcement. For the 2025 season, Bono would be moving to the lead Race Engineer position, not being directly responsible for a single racer. The community was confused, unsure of what was happening. Would they be promoting a rookie racer and engineer to grow their youth? Would they be getting a driver and engineer paring from another team?

Twitter and Reddit Artists were working hard, creating shitpost after shitpost, pundits podcast over podcast as the season progressed, trying to figure out who’d be the next racer.

Meanwhile Sebastian and Y/N were busy in their own ways. Practicing their communication again, the driver getting physically fit and in shape again. Moreso than he had been during his time at Aston Martin. This was going to be serious - no more lazing around. Go hard or go home.

Y/N worked with Bono - the man they used to work against- to get used to the Mercedes way of communication. It was very difficult, more strict compared to the free Red Bull. More lenient compared to the crazy Ferrari. More rule governed, compared to Aston Martin. Peter Bonnington was surprised in his own way, understanding why L/N and Vettel were the scary Duo they had been all this time. They had been a team since 2008, their shared time rivaling his and Lewis. Lewis- that was a mental direction he shouldn’t go to. Mercedes would need to win the championship, no time to waste on stupid thoughts.

As the season progressed and Fans grew mad with their speculation, Mercedes made a post on their instagram. It was a Photo of one of the trees outside their HQ, with a little bee fluttering around it. One single Description. “We love nature”.

Fans went wild with speculation, thinking, planning, shitposting. 

Then one day, two weeks away from the season beginning, the news fell. Two announcement posts in a single day. Y/N L/N heading to Mercedes as Race Engineer, Sebastian Vettel as driver. Mercedes returning back to their silver arrows livery.

The community went wild, the thing they’d never expected had happened.

Lewis meanwhile, was downtrodden. He had expected this move to work out differently. Ferrari clearly designated Charles as Driver 1, not adjusting around him like he’d gotten used to. Their bad race engineering got him into trouble many times. Seeing this news almost broke him. They had replaced him with his friend, who didn’t speak a single word of this? Shame on him.

Shortly after, a Video went online on the Mercedes Account. Sebastian and Y/N were seated among the many championships belonging to Mercedes, clad in white teamgear. Their eyes were determined, telling people they hadn’t arrived to play. As Sebastian took of his hat, people noticed the change. His own cold smile had returned, the one that caused people to call him a smiling assassin. His locks short again, like when he’d won his own championships. Y/N had assimilated, they’re hair bleached and dyed into a silvery colour. 

Fans once again were shocked, they truly hadn’t expected Sebastian to return like this. More akin to the way Schumacher returned but apparently that was not the choice Vettel made - he was here to win, not for the participation trophy.

As the season opener in Australia rolled around, many eyes were glued to the screen. Y/N was sitting on a bicycle along with their driver on his own, passing over the track. Taking in texture, dirt and heat. The media approached them back in the pits, shoving microphones in their face. Y/N just grunted, showing the media a literal middle finger before dipping into the Mercedes pitwall. 

This was the same paring as back in 2011, ready to fight. Qualifying went well, dangerously well. It was as if Seb hadn’t left F1. But not the 2022 Version, the 2012 Version. His defense was ruthless, his attacks even more. He utilised all the skills he had honed over years, even the smallest tricks Michael had once explained to him to gain a faster time. As he crossed over the finish line in first position, Martin Brundle screamed out loud. Nobody had expected this, nobody thought he could win a race again. Toto was jumping in the Mercedes Garage, Y/N jumping along and almost throwing the headset down.

Sebastian on the radio was back to his own, singing, cheering and screaming absolute gibberish. Pulling into Parc Fermé, he was surprised at having the camera and microphone pushed into his face. This new way of doing things was very unusual to him. 

“So Sebastian, tell us how you’re feeling.”

“I feel like i belong” was his simple answer, pushing the camera out of his face as he headed to get weighed. He took a short look at the staircase leading up to the podium. It had been a while since he had last set foot onto them. They were almost scary but he knew, he was secure. A hand placed on his shoulder, one that he had felt there for many years. Y/N was there to get the constructors trophy, truely the only appropriate person today.

The clothing wasn’t the same as in the past, but the energy was. People were cheering, even more were booing. Not wanting another Era of Mercedes Dominance. Booing however, did nothing to deter Sebastian or Y/N. After all, they were the original Red Bull Villains. 

Ignoring the rules, they let the champagne down to the team to enjoy. This was their first victory after a few years as well, they deserved it after sacrificing two seasons to get this car made.

Then, a lone camera man captured an almost painfull view. Lewis Hamilton, clad in the strong Ferrari Red standing aside, looking up to the silver team with sadness and longing in his eyes. This hurt him, it truly did. Tears were welling in his eyes as the camera man moved away tactfully, instead capturing the celebrating couple instead.

The season progressed, a grandslam in all eyes. Win after win - not a single Race lost. As the Final in Bahrain rolled around and Sebastian collected his fifth driver’s championship, he knew he had found a new family and home. Y/N and him were celebrating wildly, the basil on the windowsill long forgotten among the glory and the parties, the heat and the energy.

It was that day, that a man entered a plane back to his new home in Italy. Eying the still not fully unpacked furniture, he settled onto a lightly dusted chair. Had leaving Mercedes truly not been the right decision? Lewis looked at a photobook a fan had gotten him. From winning with McLaren, the years with Nico and Valtteri, Mercedes had truly grown into his home and Family. What had made him leave them then? Was it the thirst for glory? Had he not enjoyed the atmosphere anymore? He felt conflicted. People had told him that Ferrari would break him. He didn’t want to believe them, but they were right. The red team had once again done what it did best. Destroy someone. Lewis looked back on Sebastian’s Face, remembering his defeated expression after the years of fighting with the red team. Of getting recognition for Kimi as well. Of standing up against Charles.

Lewis considered his options, putting his own life on the golden scale. Then, he made a decision. Opening instagram, he made a single post. Cuddling Roscoe, the description was simple, something nostalgic almost. “I hereby announce my retirement from Formula 1”

#blerb writes #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #lewis hamilton #nonbinary!reader

[blerb-f1]

Ranking F1 Drivers by Helmet Squishiness:

This is very important!!!

All 22 drivers that have been on the grid so far this year, countdown style!

Number 22: Logan (beautiful eyes, not much squish)

Number 21: Kevin (deceptive! but his squish is all natural, helmet does nothing)

Number 20: Daniel (not much squish, just a little around his cheeks)

Number 19: Pierre (wee bit of squish going on)

Number 18: Lando (lovely eyes but not much squish by helmet)

Number 17: Nico (got some squish going around the eyes, we getting there)

Number 16: Carlos (pretty eyes, getting squishier around the cheeks)

Number 15: Lance (face looks over all more squishy, especially his little eyes)

Number 14: Valtteri (pinch him cheekies, they startin to squish)

Number 13: Max (lovely eyes, some squishage going on with the cheeks, yes yes)

Number 12: Esteban (squishier still, his whole little face squished up in there!)

Number 11: Lewis (some good squish!!! That's champion squish going on!!)

Number 10: Charles (GORGEOUS eyes with squishy cheeks!!)

Number 9: Alex (we getting real here, cheeks are starting to really squish!)

Number 8: Liam (cheeks to pinch!!! Would get a higher rating if I had more to work with!)

Number 7: George (LOOK AT THE CHEEKS)

Number 6: Nyck (Some excellent squish going on, would get a higher rating if I had more evidence!)

Number 5: Checo (pic doesn't do the squish justice, this is a squishy boy)

Number 4: Fernando (Supreme squishage, we love to see it!!!)

Number 3: Oscar (HE IS SO SQUISHY, pinch his cheeks!!! The top 3 were so hard to organize!!!)

Number 2: Guanyu (he is underappreciated!! LOOK AT THE SQUISH - we need to see this more!!)

Number 1: Yuki - OUR SQUISH KING (overall squish is OFF THE CHARTS - bonus points for being cutest of all with the squish.)

Honourable mention for Nicholas Latifi, my squishy Canada Boy:

Anyway thanks, I will not be taking criticism XD but rankings may change with new helmets and evidence.

Some of these guys have gorgeous eyes and I feel the need to do another post that ranks like... the top 5 most gorgeous eyes or something.

#blerb show and tell

[blerb-f1]

When I tagged that post about objectifying athletes by making them wear shorter shorts with "early 2000s renault", it was specifically because of these pictures

+ tennis because they belong here too

#blerb show and tell

[blerb-f1]

" Cooked Australian"

Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader

Qatar left Oscar quite dead but at least a eery kind doctor is there to revive him

“Haaaa” Oscar sighed, laying down on the couch in his driver’s room. Qatar was an absolute drain of a race and Lando’s pushing at the end surely didn’t help his wellbeing. His Legs felt weak and wobbly as he hobbled back into the room. He fell onto the ground, air spinning. Leaving a voice message on some group was all he could muster, laying on the ground.

As little ducks started spinning in the air above him, the door opened after a short knock. He saw a person step in, clad in fully black clothes. Some kind of goth. White Makeup melting off her face as she got on her knees next to him.

“I’m Y/N, Oscar. I’m a registered Doctor, I'll help you, okay? The team sent me. I’ll put you into an ice bath, for that I need to take off your clothes. Is that fine?”

Oscar nodded weakly. He really didn’t care about being seen. All he could think of was relief.

He felt a cool towel being placed on his head and water gurgling into a plastic basin. Shortly after he felt his race suit being pulled off, then his fireproof. The cold air was almost uncomfortable on his steaming skin.

“I’ll wipe you down first, okay? So that you won’t get flashed by the cold.” the voice said, her voice having a comforting melody to it.  He flinched under the cold cloth passing over his skin, but it had turned into relief white soon.

“I need you to tense up now. That makes lifting you easier.”

Oscar did as asked, tensing his worn muscles as much as he could manage. The woman grabbed him before letting him sink into the water. Once again, big flinch.

The water bit at his skin as more sweat poured over his head, burning his sensitive skin. “Close your eyes please.” 

Cold water brushed over his head, he felt his hair being gone through and then a headband pushed it up. A soft towel cleaning his face again. 

“Have a drink please” 

The usual driver's straw hit his lips and he gingerly drank from it. The water tasted disgusting, probably riddled with things good for the body.

Oscar fully leaned back against the plastic tub, just sipping the water offered to him. Finally his conscience started returning to him as he felt the Lady -Y/N- being her name, take his pulse.

He stared up at her, the white and black make-up now fully smudged and half run off from all the water she had handled. The jet black hair had started sticking together and her black clothes equally wet. 

“Are you feeling a bit better?” she asked him, worried in her eyes. 

“...Yeah” he weekly voiced, a smile crossing his face at her big panda eyes.

“hm?” she asked. “What's making you smile?”

“Your makeup. It's gone.” Oscar stated quickly.

She fumbled around in her handbag, getting out a beautiful classic looking mirror, eyeing her appearance. “I look like garbage. Not like you’re in better shape though.” She twisted the mirror for him to see his reflection.

Red face, swollen and exhausted. His hair was pushed up with a fluffy cat eared headband. The water made a splashing noise as she put a little duck in there before grabbing back her mirror and some wipes. Strong wipes and water splashes helped take off her makeup . An equally exhausted face appeared underneath the strong mask covering it.

“So you’re not alone. I’m just outside the room. Try not to drown please. I'll report to the team. They're worried about you, allright.”

Oscar splished around in the Water before finally feeling good enough to step out. He gently stepped out, falling back on his lounge chair. The stack of towels was already prepared as he started drying himself off, grabbing fresh clothes from his drawers. Being dressed again, he flopped back onto the chair, eyeing the room. The entire floor was covered in water and wet towels, his racesuit buried in a big stack of orange Frotte. Oscar returned to sipping his water, watching the rubber duck spin in circles as he saw the door open again. 

Y/N gasped. “Who said you could walk yourself? Did you get hurt?!”

“No” was his simple factual statement.

Y/N looked around the room, grabbing a new bottle from the deep bottoms of her leather coat. “Here, drink this instead. Tastes better.” She pushed his special straw in the new bottle, handing it over. Oscar took a sip. It did taste better.

Y/N had brought a laundry basket in which she threw the towels and his sweaty clothes before pushing it out of the door.

She then lifted the storage bin that posed as his bath, letting the water down the drain. A last towel served as a mop to reduce the room's slipping hazard.

The woman looked quite proud of her work as she placed her hands on her hips, procuring her bag again and disappearing in his bathroom. A while later she re-emerged , dressed in a fresh change of equally black clothes and new , but simpler, makeup applied on her face.

“Ready to show yourself to the Team Oscar?”

 He nodded. No point in dilly-dallying, he’d have to go outside either way.

supported by Y/N’s Arm, he stepped outside. The bright lights being aggressive on his still bloodshot eyes. 

The team was looking up with nervous expressions. Apparently, they were all quite worried. 

‘Quite a surprise’, Oscar thought. He was sure they’d worry about Lando more, him being their Driver 1 but apparently, no. Zack Brown was quick to approach him, checking his appearance up and down with hawklike, watchful eyes. With his Hand patting Oscar's Shoulder, he pulled him into a warm, comfortable hug.

“You did well Oscar.”

Oscar looked up at Zack, at Lando whose Face was trying to hide his own disappointment and at all the mechanics that had worked so hard the season. While this surely wasn’t a win, nonetheless it was something many drivers had never reached in their entire life. A little droplet escaped his eyes, quickly hiding it behind his sleeve.  One thing confused him however, where exactly did Y/N come from?

Zack answered as if he could read his thoughts. “Good that Y/N was already here, otherwise we would have had to drag you to the medical center but the cameras were like Hyenas today. They caught Lance and Alex at some very unfortunate angles.”

“Why was Y/N here?”

“She’s currently in training as Replacement for Dr. Ian Roberts. He feels like his body isn’t that movable anymore so he wants to relocate towards research and Development for Driver Security. The FIA held open tests. We told you about them, don't you remember?”

Oscar tried his hardest to remember but that mention must have escaped him.

“Of course you dont. “ siggghhh “Anyway, Y/N was the one that passed the tryouts so she’s currently being trained by Dr. Roberts himself. While she doesn’t have as much experience in the medical field as him, the knowledge required for this position is way too specialized anyway to be learned in a normal Hospital.”

Y/N nodded as if agreeing with the Statement, before adding:”Theoretically today was just my first look at the job. First thing I have to do besides learning about Drivers Injuries is getting used to the fast driving. Alan has been doing some rounds around Qatar with me. I don't know how you endure that at those speeds. I had a good vomit into a flower Basket the second he stopped the Medical Car.” She chuckled before tugging her Hair back. “The fastest I've ever gone was 130kmh and my little Hyundai felt like it was exploding. “

“I could take you for a spin if you’d like. Maybe that will help you get used to it?”

Oscar’s breath hiked. Had he actually said that loudly? That was just an intrusive thought, how could he just- “Wait some time, Cowboy. At least until you’re not looking like the walking dead anymore.”

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*ping*

Oscar had spent the last three days resting in his UK Apartment, just on standby after the drain that was Qatar. That is, until a Message by an unknown number appeared. He expected it to be another insane fan or some scam nigerian prince, willing to share his inheritance.

It was, however, neither of those.

> HII OSCAR > This is Y/N - Logan gave me your number after I checked on him! > I wanted-  *message deleted* > i wanted to take you up on your offer!

Which offer had he made her again? Offer, Offer…OH JEEPERS A drive around a track.

*ping*

> Friends of Mine are at Snetterton today.  > would that work for you?

Snetterton? Oscar did some quick calculations. It was early morning, the drive would take around 3 hours. 2 if he were to speed…

< Sure! I’ll see you at Snetterton!

Shit. That wasn’t one of his smartest moments, not by a long shot. Oscar quickly jumped in his bath, getting ready. He picked some clothes that looked appropriate while getting the swoop in his hair in order. Rushing outside, he grabbed his bag with a race suit and helmet - he might need it at a Race Track?-,  dumping it onto the car's passenger seat while sliding into the Driver's Seat. “Google, Route to Snetterton Race Track.” 

His McLaren Artuna had been fueled up to the brim, thankfully. Time to make a 3h track in 2 hours. 

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As he pulled into the Carpark, Oscar realized he had made a big  mistake. This wasn’t the privately booked tracks he was used to, it was open track day. With many gearheads that were sure to recognise him. What had he done?

 As Oscar pulled into a parking space (much better than Charles would have ever done!) his phone made a 'ping!' again.

> We’ve just arrived! Should we pick you up at your Car? < Yes please, i’m at E5. The Papaya McLaren > 😂 ofc > keep your sunglasses on, if you have them > My friends car is…embarrassing

Shortly after that message, with his sunglasses covering his face as he leaned against his car, he heard a horrible farty noise approach him.

‘Please don't be it. Please don't be it  he prayed to himself. But Alas, his Luck has run out.

The car approaching him was a riced Golf V. Massive farty exhaust, fugly bodykit and an even more hideous paintjob covering the gullwing doors that were opening

Had he seen that correctly? Gullwing Doors.

He had, horrifyingly enough. He saw Y/N sitting in the Passenger Seat, her Hair teased up highly, Large Cat Eye Sunglasses hiding her expression. The white paint on her skin being lit up by the Cars ugly RGB Light-interieur. She had lifted her gloved hands to wave at him before lifting her long skirt to step out. 

“I’m so glad we were able to find you! This is madness! So many people buzzing about"

Oscar looked around. Yeah, Madness. The McLaren Cap on his head, the McLaren car and the helmet he brought which had turned out to be his actual race helmet, would probably only strengthen this madness.

As he was about to disappear into his own mind, the horrible engine farts stopped and the driver stepped out. A young woman in Overalls, blond braid and equally large sunglasses.

She stretched her hand to shake. He took it.

“I’m Jessica, Y/N’s friend. You don’t have to hide your expression, we know how ugly this car is. I’m a mechanic and sadly the one paid to build this monstrosity.”

Osar let out a sigh of relief. He knew how clear his thoughts were on his face, not knowing how long he would have to disguise the disgust.

“Also, Y/N mentioned you being some kind of driver. I have no clue about Motorsports so don’t worry, I won't rat you out or something. All I care about is testing this fartcannon because the owner actually wants to go on track with it.”

“Have you invited me to try it  then?”

“No, that’s Jessica’s Job. She’s insured if something were to go wrong. I’m not stopping you though if you want.”

Oscar eyed the fartcannon and a sense of morbid curiosity overcame him. Something in him wanted to know what this thing drove like.

“Give me the keys!”

As Oscar settled into the Driver’s Seat, he took note of the car's shift pattern, pulling out. He considered putting on his helmet in case of this shitbox falling apart but being smashed to small chunks appeared more appealing than being found alive but injured in it. 

He pushed the Sunglasses higher on his nose. Gotta do at least something. 

As he shifted up the gears, eye focused on the whimpering boost gauge and body concentrated on the fighting street tires. The other normal street cars looked in awe as this fast fartcannon flew by them. BMWs, Mercs and even some Porsches couldn't stand against this expertly built Ricer. 

That was until he heard some controlled throat noises behind him. A short Glance in the rear-view Mirror revealed that Y/N was struggling to keep her breakfast down. As stopping wasn't allowed, Oscar tried his hardest to slowly and calmly drive back to the parking area. 

A group of people that had seen this mad car had appeared to catch a glimpse of it but they were quickly stopped by Oscar who’d asked them where the toilets were.

While Jessica was away with Y/N, Oscar hid in the car to not be discovered. As the two women returned Sade just eyed the Car with massive disgust.

“I’m not getting in there again.” She stated clearly, trying to fix her rustled clothes.

At that moment, as if heaven sent, Jessica looked at her phone as a call came in. The owner wanted his car back, she would have to go home. YN would have to take a train home instead.

“I could drive you, '' Oscar offered. “It’ll be dark later. I wouldn't want you traveling alone in the dark”

YN appeared to consider her choices before finally coming to a conclusion. 

“I’d appreciate you driving me. But first, we gotta finish a lap. A singular lap at least. I have to get used to this.”

Jessica bid her farewells, disappearing in the fartcannon, wondering how Y/N even got a position in Motorsport while getting Car Sick.

Oscar helped her into the Artura, settling into his own seat.

“I'll take it slow for the first lap”

Oscar did as promised, one slowish round of Snetterton with People curiously eying the car. This mostly being the fact that it was working, which most Artura didn't.

Then came a fast Lap. Y/N grabbed the doors tightly, Fear imminent though her painted face but success. No throwing up.

Wasn't that a start?

The young driver pulled his car back into the car park, curiously glancing at his passenger again. YN was looking a bit unsettled but much better than before, not that he could tell from her face color though. As he turned the engine off, Y/N leaned back, sighing loudly. 

“I really didn’t consider that I might get sick at high speeds when I applied for this job.” 

“Have you ever driven a car fast before, Y/N?” was Oscar's first proper question. “On a track or even a street?”

She appeared to actually think of an equally proper answer before turning to respond. “Not really.My little Hyundai gets to 130 kmh if i push it but that's above the speed limit. And on a Racetrack? On my own? Never."

Oscar unbuckled his seatbelt, swinging his legs out and opening the passenger door instead. 

“You drive.” Y/N looked at him in Confusion, still getting into the driver's seat though. 

“Why should I drive this car?” she simply asked.

“Why? Because this is a track. Being a passenger is one thing but driving yourself another. Maybe this will help you be less car sick.” 

Y/N sat there in Oscar's Sitting position, not daring to touch anything on this car. “I can't drive this! It’s way too expensive! What if I bin it?”

“McLaren’s just gonna have to get me another then.”

“I don’t know how to drive an automatic!”

“Any idiot can drive an automatic.”

Y/N let out a sound of defeat before adjusting her seat according to Oscars Instructions, searching for the Key in the Ignition. 

“How do I turn this on?”

“You don’t need your left leg. Right foot on the break, the start buttons right next to the wheel”

She did as told and the engine came alive with a loud hum.

“How do I put it in gear?”

“The D for dumbass button in the center console. Boy am I glad I reversed into this parking spot. Oh be careful, you have combined like 600hp more than your Hyundai so better be AHHHH”

The car shot forward as Y/N had engaged the gas pedal way too much, more akin to pushing a little three cylinder car than a V6 Hybrid. 

“Now please”, Oscar continued, clutching whatever he could to stay alive, “P l  e a s e be careful with the brakes. These will be much stronger than the old ass ones on your car. I don’t particularly possess the desire to die in Snetterton”

Y/N directed the Car onto the Track, curious eyes watching why this expensive car is so unstable. Oscar himself was less worried about the car itself and more about his own survival as Y/N had discovered the Joy of Speed. Colin McRae would have been proud of her as she started racing around at what was flat out speed to her, intimating Sunday Drivers by letting the engine howl up behind them or slowing down just to speed up and overtake.

As she finally pulled into the parking lot again, putting the Car into “Park” as instructed, he found himself feeling as tired as he did after Qatar. Was this how his parents felt when driving along with him back when he got his license?

“Oscar, the Cluster is rattling?”

“Oh yeah, it’s been like that the entire time, you were just distracted. These Arturas are notorious for breaking down. I was lowkey hoping you’d bin it so that I would get something more reliable.”

“I think McLaren would have sued me for killing their Car.”

"Nonsense. You saved me from becoming a cooked Australien back in Qatar. If they would have sued you, I'd have announced my move to Red Bull or something.”

“Oscar, it says … The display overheated?”

“I didn’t even know a Display could overheat. Maybe i’ll get my reliable pink Toyota Vitz now”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Zack Brown found himself quite unhappy as he discovered a copy of ‘The Sun’ laid on his desk. The cover displayed his youngest Driver Oscar Piastri standing at the side of the road, next to him the new F1 Medic Y/N in her Darkest Sunday's Best and in the middle, a smoking, Papaya coloured McLaren Artura. Or to be even more specific, a burning one. As emphasized by the Fire Trucks closeby.

He angrily slammed down his cup of coffee before reading the title aloud. “McLaren Star Oscar Piastri caught having a Car BBQ along with a Clown doubling as Funeral Director”

As he took his breaths, deep breaths at that, he came to a single conclusion: While this situation was not great, at least he neither was the FIA and had to deal with Cooked Drivers in Qatar or the entire Aston Martin Social Media Team.

#f1 x reader #Oscar Piastri x reader #Oscar Piastri #blerb writes

[blerb-f1]

Bleb-F1's Masterlist

Here's my masterlist. Have fun.

Sebastian Vettel

RBR!Seb x Ferrari!Reader

Ex!Seb x reader

Vettel x Engineer!Reader

Part 1: 2008!Sebastian Vettel x Engineer!Reader

Part 2: Prequel

Part 3: 2025 Sequel

Oscar Piastri

Series: Oscar x trad goth!fem!reader

Part 1: "Cooked Australian" - Oscar x trad goth!reader

Part 2: "Paddock Shenanigans"

#blerb writes

[blerb-f1]

Junge - Sebastian Vettel x reader

Sebastians Parents hate his career choice but at least you're here.

This is like a prequel to THIS fanfic - please beware that Sebs actual parents are incredibly cute and supportive and also i didn't mean to make like consistent songfics yet here we are. Its about "Junge" by "Die Ärtze"

hahahahaha

America's West, the vast prairie

And right in the middle of it: A small house

And in it: A concerned mother

2023 - Sebastian has just announced his retirement. You, his trusty Engineer since the Toro Rosso Days have spent the day looking back and reminiscing. Throughout the years you’ve had people come and go in your lives, but only you two and Britta, his manager, were truly consistent. One Group of People you absolutely couldn't count on were his parents.

They happily supported his Kart Career but going into F1? Never, F1 was for nobodies and troublemakers. If asked in which Michael would fall, they’d just say “Schumi is an exception”

Throughout the BMW Sauber Testing Years Seb would exist in the car given to him by BMW, friends apartments or hotels rented by Sauber themselves but never anything consistent. Once the move to Torro Rosso happened, with you becoming his equally young engineer, Red Bull made the decision to rent an apartment for you to share. Although you weren't a Red Bull Junior, Fate brought it this way. 

You’d taken way too many angry calls of Sebs Parents, causing you to one day chuck his mobile phone down the toilet- He was enraged but life soon improved until the worst day  happened. Your apartment was small yet cozy with each of you decorating their room lively. His covered in trophies and race suits, yours with study notes and smart looking graphs. Both however representative of your interests, with your shared common space housing your gaming consoles, a popcorn maker you bought thinking you’d use it a lot and a massive pullout couch someone put out for free which you transported home hanging off Sebs BMW X3 

Boy (Boy), why haven't you learned anything?

Look at Dieter, he even has a car!

Why don't you go to Uncle Werner's workshop?

He'll give you a permanent employment, if you ask him about it

Boy (Boy, Boy)

That was the first thing barreling out of a phone held to your ears. 

Sebastian and You had just entered the Red Bull Factory during off week to test new parts on the car. You, additionally, had more classes on being a Race Engineer. While you already were supporting him during races, you still had to study more to become better.

Just as you were about to enter the elevator, Helmut Marko came angrily flying towards you. 

“SEBASTIAN VETTEL! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I'M TAKING CALLS FOR YOU!” he shouted, throwing his Motorola towards you both. His moms shriekky noisy voice echoed through the speaker. 

His Cousin Dieter was a useless POS, whom his Uncle Werner, the workshop owner, coddled until there was no tomorrow. You had the displeasure of meeting them both when his parents sent them to your shared apartment, in hopes of building bridges. You both however preferred the Fernando Alonso Bridge and set this bridge on fire with a can of gasoline.

They were horrible rude upon intruding on your shared space. Dieter insulting your gaming setup, Werner complaining about your general decor and moving in. You’d gotten very fed up with them, opening the door and telling them to Leave that exact second.

Afterwards you and Seb had celebrated by ordering expensive Delivery Pizza while watching 100% Pirated movies. Most likely an Austin Powers Movie.

And the way you always look, holes in your pants, and always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

And your hair too, words fail me - do you have to dye it?

(What will the neighbors say?)

You never come home, we don't know what to do anymore

"DON'T GET THE TUB DIRTY!" you shrieked as Seb was trying to wash the dye out of your hair. You'd attempted to dye your hair purple and black with Seb being the one doing the work. He was, however, not good at being cleanly. He'd gotten dye inside of his gloves, on his pants and covered half of the apartment in the process. The washing out process was equally catastrophic with him getting your old bathroom tiles covered as well. 

As some dye was left over, you decided to apply it to his beautiful locks. You both came out very matchy. His hair had him look like a black-purple Raccoon and as he was a skinny boy, he looked more like a hungry raccoon than the fat ones you’d usually see rummaging on TV.

The day after you had an appointment with a piercer to get further piercings, the guy immediately thought you were a couple because of the matching hair.  You got multiple Piercings, each of them becoming their own memory for the future. You still remembered Brittas Expression as you turned up on Monday with all the metal jingling of your ears and in your face.

What you hadn't however expected, was receiving an invite to Sebastian's Aunts Birthday Party.  The Raccoon dye in his hair greatly contrasted the grown up BMW you found yourself in as you two were approaching Heppenheim. Seb took you along as an emotional support animal to better endure the party. You had met his parents before, the day they turned up at your house and another when they turned up at the factory. The day they had turned up at your house, you had your lovely neighbor open the building's front door. She was a lovely lady with hearing issues so you could be as loud as you wanted without bothering her. She often would cook for you in turn helping her with heavy tasks. She shushed them away and made you a hearty meal.

As the car pulled into his old home's driveway, you clearly saw people rushing towards the front door and stumbling out. Seb was clutching the wheel tightly, you both had been driving all the way from Austria so you were already pretty tired.

As you stepped outside you could hear his mom let out a surprised scream, it getting louder as Sebastian stepped out. Your favorite Piercing (a chain connecting from your lips to the ear) was glittering under the porchlight as his little brother rushed out, pushing his mom aside. He jumped upwards into Sebs Arms, possibly being the one most excited for his return.

“Who is this…Woman?” his mom asked, almost snakelike. 

“My Race Engineer and Roommate, Y/N”, Seb stated while brushing through his brother's hair.

Boy (Boy) don't break your mother's heart

It's not too late to enroll at university

You used to be interested in animals, wouldn't that be worth pursuing?

Your own vet practice, Boy

The dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. His aunt was to your surprise the one married to Werner, so he, the aunt and Dieter kept giving you dirty looks. His grandparents were equally unhappy with your both looks. Meanwhile his little brother was trying to show him pictures and awards. His Mom didn’t miss a single Chance to insult his driving career, only his dad stayed quiet. Then she started, talking about his love for animals and proposing he should become a vet again. A proposal, she kept repeating uselessly. 

Finally she dragged him away and his little brother approached you with shimmering eyes, inviting you to his room to show you his collection of things. 

You happily took the chance to flee from annoying relatives as you settled onto Fabians Bed, the sheets with car print giving way under your bum. The quiet mumbling from downstairs being way more endurable than the massively loud chatter. You would always pick the sound of a screaming V10, even if it would blast your hearring away. It would at least protect you from the pain of being repeatedly and hiddenly insulted.

knock knock

His father came in, face pulled into a mildly sad expression as he sheepishly stood in front of the room's door. you eyed him, waiting for more insults of your person to be hurled at you.

Instead however, he gave you a bag.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah”

“Please” he was a quiet man, his age clearly visible on his face. “Please give this to Sebastian. Heike, she… She isn’t herself . This isn’t like her. But Seb, he should have this back.”

You take the bag and gingerly lay it on the mattress next to you.

“If she’s gotten so bad, why don’t you leave her?”

“I promised to stick to her, in good and bad times.”

And the way you always look, piercings in your nose, and always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

Electric guitars and always these lyrics

Nobody wants to listen to that

(What will the neighbors say?)

You never come home, so much bad company

We will disinherit you

(What will the tax office say?)

How is it all going to end, we are worried

Seb and You were finally back home. Home, yes that’s what Austria had become for you both.  

The apartment was quiet until you rummaged through the cupboard, pulling out an  Electric Guitar and its required equipment. You gave Seb a cheeky grin before proceeding to play Wonderwall by Oasis. “Not Wonderwall…” Sebastian moaned.

You handed him the Guitar. “Then play something Better, Starboy!”

“But I don't know how to?”

“Just let it out!” you screamed before stomping around the living room, tumbling over collections of varying junk and memorabilia. 

clinggggg

You’d stumbled over the long forgotten bag his father had handed you. The Guitar abruptly stopped as Seb dropped it onto the Sofa while staring the bags contents

His first trophy, his favorite stuffed animal and his laminated photos of meeting Michael for the first time.

“Where did you get those from?” Seb asked with anger lacing his voice.

“Your father gave them to me.”

He looked between you and the bag's contents, difficulty enshrining his expression as you bent down, picking up the trophy. You lifted it, brushing your shirt over it. After a serious glance you shoved his newest trophies to the side and placed it smack dab in the middle. You could clearly imagine the little, then blonde boy, bursting with pride upon being handed it by his childhood Idol Michael Schumacher.

And you were such a sweet child

And you were such a sweet child

And you were such a sweet child

You were so sweet

And always your friends, I bet you all take drugs

And always this racket

(What will the neighbors say?)

Think of your future, think of your parents

Do you want us to die?

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #f1 x reader #blerb writes

[blerb-f1]

jenson button’s first commentary gig (monaco 2005)

#blerb show and tell

[blerb-f1]

DC 😭

[blerb-f1]

2000’s F1 but it’s a sitcom intro

#blerb show and tell

[blerb-f1]

girl help i’m obsessed with this clip of jenson button saying “darling”

#blerb show and tell #Screaming

[blerb-f1]

thinks long and hard about this

#blerb-show-and-tell #I need you to see this it's rent free alr

[blerb-f1]

"Let them talk" - 2008!Sebastian Vettel x Engineer!Reader (platonic???)

This one is again based on another Song called "Lasse Reden" (Let them Talk) by Die Ärzte. I really like it so give it a listen if you want to.

Let em run their mouths 

Did you do something that normally no one does?

Are you wearing high heels or even a hat?

Or did you wear too skimpy of a dress,

Without asking your neighbors for permission first?

Sebastian flipped the newspaper open, staring disgruntled at the articles badmouthing him. For some reason, German Media weren't a Fan of him. A young, overly confident upstart they could step on easily is what he was to them. 

Of course, now you'll be treated with contempt

You're a disgrace to the whole neighborhood

You don't even know their names

And they're already running their mouths about you. 

You just stared at the awful stuff they said about him. Just where exactly did they get that stuff from? What made them get those ideas? Were they so miserable in their own boring little lifes? 

You leaned forward, comfortingly holding Sebastian's right hand. 

"They don't know you Seb, that's why they're able to pull shit like this" 

Sebastian looked at another article, eyes scanning the rude words laid in front of him. 

"I know that THEY don't know me. That's why they are so rude. I mean, I've just joined Red Bull properly. Taking over after David Coulthard won't be easy but what do they expect? If Horner wants me to be Driver 1, I have to become Driver 1. That's how the Business works. Bashing Me because they wanted Mark to get the spot is idiotic. It's not like we two have that many choices to make in that regard"

You eyed a smaller article, reading the insults that were hurled at you. Being Sebs' equally young and inexperienced Engineer at Toro Rosso was already pretty special but Christian Horner invited you to follow him to the Main Team. Like a Buy one get one free deal. Pretty nice money and friendship wise but pretty bad gossip wise. 

Let them talk, and don't listen to them

Most people just don't have anything better to do

Let them talk, day and night

Let them talk - they always have, anyway

Apparently, something you didn't know about yourself,was that you were the lover of Helmut Marko and got Sebastian into this position by fucking said old fart on top of the RB03. Interesting. Another, even meaner comment, had implied that somehow Sebastian was a paid driver that got in thanks to Flavio Briatore and you had planned Crashgate. Considering that you were just a little engineer at Toro Rosso, that seemed very outlandish. Furthermore, something about Briatore always irked you the wrong way so there was no way in Hell you'd be caught dead around him. Being the same age as Sebastian, you didn't think that people were taking you as capable of stuff like that. A 21y.o. planning something like Crashgate? And even if you somehow were that big brained, in what manner would Fernando Alonso winning the Race benefit Sebastian? You just shook your head at the brainfarts that managed to get printed. 

You've certainly robbed a bank

How else could you afford your rent?

And you've been banned from the United States

Because you're Osama bin Laden's lover

Seb sighed as he read another news out loud: "Michael Schumacher reveals: Vettel too cocky for his own good. The 7x champion despises being around the moronic Rookie". As he finished reading and slouched back into his seat, you just stared in shock. Michael liked Sebastian. He appreciated him as a driver, a young fresh talent and as a fellow German. He treated him more like a son than anything. He was a better not dad than most of those so-called journalists must have had growing up.  You stood up from your own booth seat, sliding over to Sebs Side, bumping into his side while sending him a Comforting Smile. You both sipped the bad Coffee they served in Hospitality, trying to form fictional race tracks out the stains the mugs left on the table.

Do you shave your women's-beard daily

Or do you have a few corpses buried in your garden?

The neighbors surmised as much

So don't be surprised when the detectives drop by

You pointed at another article. "See this one?". The young man moved his eyes to the next page, gazing upon the article squished between ads for most likely racist books and lawnmowers. "Fernando Alonso actually deceased, replaced by a driver that got plastic surgery."

He chucked at the thought of someone learning to be like Fernando Alonso. Some poor bloke forced to do that bunny dance on top of an F1 Car. How even would one imitate a Driver?  "Imagine getting someone to look like Coulthard? Would they put new bones into that chin?" you joked while pointing at your chin. You then hollowed out your cheeks, stretching your face. "Or imagine someone looking like Mark. Like, how do you initiate that?”

Seb started laughing along with you while pretending to give himself a longer chin:"Sebastian Vettel imitates Michael Schumacher. Has this rookie gone too far?" 

The laughter coming from deep down your stomach was so loud that some of the other people in hospitality turned around, staring at you two. Normally you’d hide away in some empty office, eating your cold food there while racing against Sebastian on your two PSP’s that he won in a raffle.

Let them talk and just don't listen

Most people don't mean anything by it

It's their monotonous life that bothers them

And the day becomes much more interesting when you tell stories

Mark, who'd heard your imitations, while walking in, came over and scooted into the booth you sat in earlier while giving you two a comforting smile. "That's the correct way to deal with those stupid fake news" he stated, while stretching his legs under the table. "They'll always think of something stupid to talk about. What are they supposed to report, if not stupid shit like that? You think normal people buy the headline 'Red Bull Racing' s new Talent Sebastian Vettel is a kind bloke'?" 

Seb seemed to tense next to you for a second before relaxing again." You mean, this will go on forever? "

" Yes", Mark answered bluntly. "That's how it's always been and always will be." 

And they probably don't feel ashamed

They lack discretion

And repeatedly prove: [that] they are petty,

inescapable, xenophobic

"Look at the stuff they write about Lewis Hamilton, for example" he said while smiling sadly. "Your slander is just normal slander, he's getting hate simply because his skin colour isn't on their approval page. Formula 1 features people from all over the world, so they pick the easiest target who could be someone who's from a minority group like Lewis or a young fool like you. Those people can span from idiots to hyenas. You gotta learn how to ignore them and especially, not feed them. Fake articles can be fun for a hot minute but blow up and grow into some massive thing "

Did you hear, and say, did you already know?

That is to say, you earn your money through prostitution

You work the corner by the bus station

The colleague of a brother-in-law saw you the other day

"So my Advice for you two: Don't run with what they say about you in public. Be so kind that it hurts. Y/N, don't mention that Crashgate stuff anywhere. The Brazilians won't be happy with your jokes and the media will spin it like you're actually involved and somehow hate everyone from there. Seb, don't treat Me different just because People hate Christian Horner putting you in this position. That's on them, not you. Just be polite and let your racing do the talking. "

His statements were the whole damn truth, leaving you and Seb too stunned to speak. Mark took this chance to take the newspaper away from you, just to chuck them into the trash bin." Let me resolve those issues for you. Drivers need to look out for one another, don't they? Someone gave me the same advice back then so i’m giving it to you now," Seb nodded in agreement, watching the tall man leave catering while the newspaper quickly got covered by leftover Spaghetti. 

Let them talk, just laugh it off

Most people get their information from Bild*

Which consists of, who knew,

Fear, hate, tits, and the weather report

Let them talk, because this is how it is:

As long as they talk, that's the worst they do

And you can afford a little hypocrisy

Stay polite and say nothing - that annoys them the most.

Seb stared at you for a short second before getting up and holding out his hand towards you like a knight to his princess. 

" Y/N, may I invite my strategic Genius to play an evil round of Gran Turismo 4?"

You grabbed his hand, pretending to flip your skirt. 

"Of course, Mr. Evil. But you take the Mad-Catz Controller" 

Seb stared at you with fake shock. The audacity. The Mad-Catz Controller was reserved for poor younger brothers around the world normally. You lost your other proper one during the move to Red Bull though and this one was the one Horner had gotten you after asking you for a new one.

"How dare you make Christian Horner's secret Love Child take the shitty Controller?" 

You stuck out your tongue towards him. "I'm sorry Sebastian Horner, I think having Helmut Marko, Flavio Briatore and Bernie Ecclestone on speed dial makes me the instant winner of the original Controller." 

While Mark had told you to not make fun of that stuff, doing it once or twice won't be too bad, will it? 

*Bild is like a shitty german newspaper with clickbaity titles known to stir hatred, show lots of nudity and general stupidity.  Also yes, i'm having Seb Brainrot rn.

#Sebastian Vettel x reader #Sebastian Vettel x you #F1 x reader #blerb writes

[blerb-f1]

Welcome to my blog i guess

If you want to request something (because i got time on my hands) :

Heres my Masterlist

Here are my tags if you wanna have a look at that (I'm still trying to figure out how to link them so you gotta search for it on my account - or go by the tags on the masterlist)

#blerb show and tell

#blerb writes

# blerb-f1's blerbs

💥If ya got an request, be a bit specific. Like a setting or something💥

💔No age-gaps, smut or daddy-kink shenanigans in this house💔

🦓Shy reader is specifically forbidden because I'm tired of it🦓

👀If you mean a specific recent event, explain 🅱️lease. I only recently started watching F1 again since 2013👀

🙏Please don't kill me but i don't like Taylor Swift and Harry Styles. So nothing related to them as well 🅱️lease🙏

Also 🅱️lease forgive me for not really understanding this whole website properly. I feel like a grandma learning a computer

#f1 x reader #f1 requests #blerb f1's blerbs #blerb show and tell #blerb writes

[blerb-f1]

I noticed that y’all have no idea what Germans grew up listening to. Late 80’s/very early 90’s stuff is THE SHIT and all the drivers definitely know them by heart as do i. So here’s a songfic to a sappy German lovesong(?) that we know by heart.  Also, i may have been a bit drunk and a bit nostalgic so yes

This one is called “dammit, I love you” and one of my all time favorites https://youtu.be/x6q0ciiqyG0.

Ex! Sebastian Vettel x Reader (songfic!!)

I wander through the streets until after midnight

Loved doing that back then as well

Don’t need you for that

Sebastian stared at the cold leaves falling, hands shoved into his pockets. 2013,  the year of evil things. Good Guy Seb was gone, especially after Multi 21. Same with his homelife, he grew bitter and almost jaded. The infighting with Mark traveling home to you, his Girlfriend. To be exact, his ex-girlfriend. You didn’t want to hear him like this anymore. You struggled through so much together, so why didn’t he want to listen? That’s what you had told him, but he knew better. He had to prove himself, to be the man. With or without you. Showing that he wasn’t just lucky, winning thanks to the car but instead due to his own prowess.

I’m sitting at the bar, drinking another beer

Back then, together we’d be here

It doesn’t affect me, doesn't affect me at all.

He pulled the big, wooden doors of his usual bar open, the Barkeeper mildly nodding  towards him with a pained expression. He knew everything about the situation, witness to one to many fights and breaking up equally many of them. He celebrated Sebs first World Title with you here, sponsoring Champagne to every guest that stumbled in. How quickly Time had passed since then. Sliding into his usual seat, the barkeeper quietly placed a bottle of beer in front of him which Sebastian hurried to take a sip from. 

This season was over, and It had taken enough from him. Ferrari was going to be a new start- Start of a new journey without you. He could do this without you. He should. He had to. 

Opposite of me sits a guy like a bear,

I imagine if he was your new man

It doesn’t affect me at all

Seb stared at the tall, muscular man sitting there. He looked a lot like Jenson Button, a guy you were often rumored to be cheating with. Not that you’d do that. You were loyal, if so to a fault.

Suddenly it hits me and i approach him

I tell him off:” Leave my Woman alone”

He just asks:” Are you mad?”

And all i can think of is You

Staring into Jenson’s Face just flared his deep rooted Anger. Those fake cheating news had started it all, making his trust towards you weaker. Making him question you while you were there for him through thick and thin. So what if you actually were with Jenson now? Sipping Cocktails somewhere in Britain? You, wrapped around his arms? 

'No, that needed to stopped.' 

He pushed the chair back and stomped towards Jenson, Face filled with Anger. “Leave my Woman alone!”, he almost screamed while slamming his fist on the table. Jenson jumped upwards in shock, clearly surprised. “Are you Mad?” he pushed Seb away from him. The barkeeper was quick to arrive, grabbing Seb by the sleeves and pushing him out. Muttering something about enough Alcohol which Seb didn’t hear. All he could think of was you. Your beautiful, loving eyes staring back at his upon waking up. The texture of your skin while wrapped around him.

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don't want you

I don’t want to lose you

Slowly I’m starting to remember it all

I just wanted to be a bit more free

Am I now or am I not?

You’d left before the season was over, after your big fight in Hungary. Dyed his Hair blonde because you loved his natural hair so much. Ready to actually become the villain you called him. 

I didn’t fit into your happy world

But it and you, are what i’m missing the most

I simply can’t believe it 

He was free to do whatever he so desired , but at what cost? He dominated the season but without your love at home, without you tousling his locks so gently, nothing was fine anymore. You were angry at his rude demeanor, his blatant disregard of others. You didn’t understand, with Michael being like that he felt like he had to prove himself anew. To prove himself the new German hope as some called him. 

Opposite of me Is a phone

It’s laughing at me mockingly

It won’t, it won’t ring

His iPhone laid there, Wallpaper back to the default one instead of your wide smile, sometimes turning on to inform him of some trivial news yet none of them related to you. Were you actually happy without him, living your best life?

 He did something he hadn't done since meeting you: smoking. You hated the smell with a fiery passion. Sebastian grabbed a cigarette from the Box (Marlboro Reds of course) and placed it between his lips while procuring a lighter from god knows where. Lighting it and taking a deep breath. The hot smoke filled his body with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Seven beers, smoked too much

This is what a man needs

But nobody, nobody to stay “Stop it”

And again, all I can think of is You

He dropped the lit cigarette into the empty beer bottle, face crashing flatly on the table. Nicotine and Alcohol running through his veins, making his body fuzzy. You’d have said Stop. You didn’t like seeing him in this state.

You’d have said Stop like you always did. The voice of reason in his miserable, little life. Stop to Betrayal. Stop to Fighting. Stop to Self-Doubt and Self-hatred. 

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don’t want you

I don’t want to lose you

He didn’t want to lose you but he already did. You were gone.

#Sebastian Vettel x Reader #Sebastian Vettel x you #Sebastian Vettel #f1 x reader #blerb writes