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bellezaycafe · 26 days

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sunsets and self doubt (and words left unspoken) - 1.

Main AO3 tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 2024 Formula 1 Season

Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her howver you want :) )

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident.

comments: The revamped Get Your Shit Together is here! Let me know if you enjoy the new version :)

Sadie had to force a deep breath through her system. The podium sitters were not going to like the news she had. The cooldown room’s walls felt a little like they were closing in on her.

“Alright, listen up!” She called, feeling a bit like she was talking to a random club team. “The stewards have finalised the penalties and we have two drivers dropping down.”

There was a quiet chorus of curses from Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Oscar Piastri, quiet from his third place chair, frowned.

“Lance Stroll was given two 5-second penalties for track limits. I’m told that he served one in a pit-stop, but the other took him down to 9th.” Sadie tried to give them all a gentle smile.

It might not have come across that way as she braced herself for the next one.

“Max Verstappen, you, and Pierre Gasly, were both given a 10-second penalty for overtaking under yellow flag conditions.” A small cry of outrage came from Charles Leclerc. “This was decided during your last lap and was not conveyed to your engineers in time for them to tell you.”

Max Verstappen’s face pulled into a glare of fury, while Charles Leclerc buried his face in his hands.

“What do you mean, 10-second penalty?”

Sadie hoped he didn’t explode at her during the next piece of news. She looked down at the iPad in her hands and read the standings.

“Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc were all under ten seconds behind you, so you will now be P4.”

“What?! Are you serious?!” The world champion did explode. “Pierre overtook me and I was just taking it back!”

It had been a long weekend for Sadie. She had never been to an F1 race before, let alone volunteered at one; she knew she would be busy but she hadn’t expected to be thrust into learning something the hard way at 7 am. And again at 10. Again at 2. And now again at 4:28 pm.

“I understand that-“ She held up a placating hand, reining in a scathing reply.

“Obviously you don’t if you are giving me a penalty for -“

Sadie cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Who do you think I am, Verstappen? Huh?”

He stopped leaning towards her, something he hadn’t noticed himself doing.

She took advantage of his hesitation. “I am a volunteer. What power do you think I have to change this for you?” she spat.

A scowl appeared on his face as he began to lean in again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Piastri start forward, his papaya suit around his hips. She put a hand out to stop him.

“I know who I am talking to. You are a three time world champion who will survive the depths of P4. You are Max Verstappen the reigning Champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child! Get your shit together!”

He stopped at that. All three, no four, as Lando Norris had appeared in the doorway, of the drivers did. Piastri and Leclerc looked ready to jump forward and restrain him.

Sadie saw the anger leave his eyes and said to everyone, “if you’re all sick of the FIA imposing these penalties just before interviews, maybe you should all say something. Together, as the drivers.”

It was Charles who shrugged. “If something happens in the final laps, it is fair for it to reach us after the race.”

“Yea,” Lando agreed. “But not half an hour after the chequered flag.”

All the drivers conceded that, recalling the penalties of Jeddah two weeks prior.

“I’m going to read out your standings and you’re going to stand in that spot. Do not“ -Sadie glared at Max- “complain to me, I cannot help you.”

And read them out she did. Leclerc had won, Piastri had come a close second and Norris an even closer third.

A few hundred metres away, and outside of the cooldown room, Verstappen silently simmered in his P4 position. When she left the room, Fernando Alonso smiled at Sadie from P5. Lewis Hamilton, in P6, held a fist out for a fist bump.

Sadie waited for her next job as the rest of the grid lined up in their order. They went out one by one and did their interviews.

Sadie sighed once they were all gone. At least, she’d thought they were all gone. Carlos Sainz, who had crashed out in lap 4, hadn’t gone out for his interviews yet.

“We all heard that. I don’t know if it was brave or stupid.”

Sadie jumped and shook her head. “I don’t know either and to be honest, I’m too tired to care. He was angry, I understand that, but my patience has been worn very thin.”

Sainz hummed thoughtfully as he left with a soft wave, red Ferrari suit right over his tensed shoulders.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath. Another volunteer told her that she was done for the day, and she gathered her gear. She’d be back in the morning to help pack down the equipment.

Sadie Leo needed some time to contemplate how she’d just yelled at Max fucking Verstappen.

--:--$--:--

“Charles!” The reporter called him over. “This is your first race of the season! How does that feel?”

“I mean,” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I found out in the cooldown room, we all did. I’m still shocked! I don’t know what happened with the penalty or the flags, I’m just happy to have another win!”

“You weren’t sure that you won?”

Charles laughed through his, “no!”

After a small pause he added, “I think a volunteer was given the standing from the stewards. She told us, and told some of us off for complaining.”

“We saw the beginning of an argument between an official and Max, but the feed was cut. What happened there?”

“Ah well, we are all pretty annoyed by the penalties; that safety car was twenty laps ago and we were only just being told. It is frustrating, we are all frustrated."

Oscar Piastri's interview was similar.

"That was very well done out there, Oscar. How does the P2 in your home race feel?"

"I'm still trying to process the fact that I scored a podium in my home race. It's an incredible feeling."

"You were standing here when Charles spoke about the late penalties. Do you agree with his sentiment?"

"Yeah," the Australian answered without hesitation. "Frustration is the right word for what we're all feeling."

With a nod and a thank you, he handed back the microphone and walked away.

Lando stepped up.

"Congratulations," the reporter began. "That is another double podium for McLaren, how does it feel?"

"I'm gonna be honest, undeserved. Don't get me wrong, I think I did well today and I'm proud of Oscar and our team, but I didn't cross that line in third. I don't know the full story about Max's penalty but it just seems undeserved, you know? He should have kept the win. I should be P4, not Max. The FIA needs to sort it out."

"Wow, that's a strong opinion. Will you get in trouble for saying that live?"

Lando shrugged and pursed his lips. "If I do, I do."

His PR manager pulled him away before he could say anything more incriminating.

Then Max stepped up, still fuming.

"Max," the reporter began.

"I know what you're going to ask," he interrupted. "Yes, I'm upset about the penalty. Gasly passed me under yellow flag conditions. I was told that I was allowed to take the position back. It is an unfair penalty."

"Charles told us that a volunteer told all the drivers off for complaining. Surely you have a right to complain?"

Max let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Charles is being Charles! That volunteer told me off. I blamed her for the penalty and she put me back in my place. Volunteers don't dictate penalties and can't change them."

Max shrugged and moved to hand the microphone back to the reporter. She held up a hand to ask one last question.

"Do you think the stewards should revoke the penalty?"

"Yes. They shouldn't have given me a penalty and they shouldn't have handed it out half an hour after the safety car. I think that all of the drivers are sick of being told what place we finished after the race."

"Thank you for your time, Max. It was still an incredible race."

He nodded his thanks and moved on.

It was the same reply over and over.

We are tired of the FIA handing out penalties well after the fact.

We are frustrated.

We are annoyed.

We. We. We.

Sadie never watched any of the interviews. She didn’t watch the footage from the cooldown room, in which her face is hidden but her voice is alarmingly clear. She didn't realise the impact she'd had on the drivers.

As she wiped a hand across her sweaty brow the next day, she wondered if they had said anything. She was about to ask her friend, Aurora, when a shadow fell over her.

She turned to see Max Verstappen.

"Hi?" She frowned.

"I'm sorry" he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification at his slip up.

"What?"

"About yesterday," he muttered, opening those blue eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to intimidate you."

Sadie laughed and put down the tent peg she'd been using to remove other tent pegs. "The key word there is tried."

Max smiled at her laughter. He chuckled a little and stared down at his feet in the dirt.

"But," Sadie continued, "thank you for apologising. I didn't take it to heart. You’re trying to break records. Yesterday, something probably slipped through your fingers and it made you angry. I know, so it's okay."

Max's eyes widened at her nonchalant statement about his motivation.

"What?" she asked impatiently. "I figured out your goal? It wasn't hard, Verstappen."

"No, it's not that."

"What, then?"

"You had already forgiven me?"

"Yes, I forgave you the moment you left the room. You were angry and that was your response to the anger."

"That doesn't make it okay," he pressed. He didn't know why he was pushing her, she’d already forgiven him.

"Which is why you will never do it again." She pointed a dangerous finger at his face.

"Okay," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good. Now I’ve got things to do and you probably have somewhere you have to be.” Sadie pointed at the gazebo and then the bag it belonged to.

“Right, yes. I have a flight in a few hours, so I need to get to the airport. Have a great day, yeah? It was amazing to meet you.” He stepped backwards, with a thumbs up.

“It was an honour to meet you too Max Verstappen. Never forget who you are.”

Max had to take a deep breath as he strode away.

Never forget who you are.

You are Max Verstappen the world champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child.

He made a promise to himself then, and to Sadie, that he would hold himself to a higher standard. He could be better, he should be better, he would be better.

Let me know what you think!

credits to saradika-graphics for the banner :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | AO3 link

Taglist: @snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl @morenofilm @viennakarma @simpingcorner @leilanixx

#formula 1 #f1 fic #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #max verstappen #sunsets and self doubt #get your shit together

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sionisjaune · 8 months

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Ideas for f1 rpf fests:

Infidelity fest

OT3+ fest (only pairings with AT LEAST three members)

Fest for works pertaining specifically to Nico Rosberg

Fic fest where hotel rooms and motorhomes are NOT allowed as settings

Canon divergence fest

Non-linear narrative/unconventional narrative format fest

ANOTHER ZINE FEST!!!!

Team principal fest

#i think that infidelity fest should actually happen #the rest of them… should also happen who am i kidding #blah blah blah

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mecachrome · 3 months

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Hi I would love to hear about the elaborate secret wag au you hinted at in the pastries post if youre up to talking about it. I think I need it injected directly into my veins I love it so much

ok note to self i have to stop calling things elaborate when in reality i mean that i think about them really hard before i fall asleep and then promptly forget anything interesting afterward. but of course i'd love to discuss this very vague universe some more!! :')

honestly this is all an extremely self-indulgent exercise because i'm just a huge sucker for the combined secret relationship + famous/non-famous trope, and i will always read/write it for any ship iteration that presents itself! like there is nothing i love more than understated displays of devotion, especially when it plays into the 4th wall socmed fuckery space of one half being famous and having an otherwise large social profile and the other being very lowkey and resisting any publicity about themselves... in that vein i can't tell whether the concept is super cringe & embarrassing (well i can & i know it is, but the question is whether that is enough to Stop Me!!!) because obviously lando dating some Boring Dude requires a er... certain suspension of disbelief (also sorry for any unintentional disrespect to maxf), but what is fandom for if not making stupid shit up <3

anyway the secretwag concept also developed from two things, 1) how much i enjoy & endorse oscar's private-not-secret relationship philosophy + 2) lando's extreme loyalty to & dependence on all of his childhood relationships, so the idea kind of took root as "what if oscar→lando what lily→oscar (and also kind of what maxf→lando)" but just with more of lando's friendgroup dynamix & his streamer identity folded into the mix. the origins of their rship are what remain the most ambiguous & handwavey 2 me but in short they'd somehow meet when they were younger (maybe oscar is the same age as lando, maybe lando stayed in school longer, maybe oscar moved to the uk earlier and they met during their karting days... idk!!!) except then because of finances oscar decides to go into engineering and gives up on motorsport pretty early on.

(tbh i always struggle with justifying non-driverness in canon divergence fic because i'm like WELL REALISTICALLY oscar would just go into another professional racing category if f1 weren't feasible, BUT ignoring that) i think oscar would objectively be a super adjusted engineering student and would thrive academically / not stew in self-pity about giving up racing, so i really like this idea of like... sure, oscar is One Of The Lads, but unlike most people in lando's life who revolve around his work somehow or otherwise reflect his level of celebrity—drivers, the quadrant team, d-grade influencers & djs & social media personalities—oscar is just... Oscar. he's the smartest person lando knows and his love language is quality time and lando is the one usually doing acts of service for all his friends but oscar always wordlessly & unquestionably reciprocates that for him (lando annoying oscar into giving him a massage every night and oscar conceding immediately like ok... jon who❤️) and while lando has to go out of his way to navigate/manage the emotions of those around him and feels indebted to all his friendships he's never had to do that for oscar because oscar is the steadiest part of his life. and then obviously at some point when they're young dumb & drunk they get fucked up about it and start dating on the dl

(waves hands) anyway IDK but i'm just stuck on the image of like lando at 19 starting his first season of f1 and being raw and uncertain of himself and constantly catastrophizing about the future and trying to build out his brand and prove himself, and even like maxf is racing full-time that year, but at least he has oscar who's away at uni (in slightly aged up verse) and shows up at his place every weekend to ground him... like oscar never sugarcoats anything OR doubts himself OR needs lando to be any less open about his irrational fears so lando is like damnnn your cringefail earnestness and clear-eyed perspective of reality has kind of bewitched me *momentarily healed* etc. ft. domestic bants & the birth of master baker oscarpastry when covid hits and everything goes virtual & they quarantine together... lando starts streaming regularly and there's just this random dude in the background of half his streams and chat is like "???" every time like. Who is that + Why is he australian + Why is he cooking you dinner at 1am. his only social media profile is a private ig page with 50 followers.

+ after grad they keep living together and oscar becomes a wfh developer and i imagine him being very financially steady and self-sufficient but also like... deeply LAZY, so he has 0 ambition or intention to chase anything more demanding and is happy to just do his boring software job + be lando's househusband after hours LOL. like bringing lando pastries at quadrant shoots (ty chel 4 this image) between dull code reviews & expertly ducking away from the landolog camera & letting lando drive them around in his stupid gimmick cars and just generally toeing the line perfectly of being invested in lando's success and caring as deeply about motorsport as he does and even kicking his ass in iracing sometimes because he's kept up with sim racing but also keeping his ego in check and not making him engage in the world/politics/circus of f1 more than he has the capacity for on their off-weekends *__* finally lando is like babe i need to go commit tax fraud in monaco and oscar is just like ❤️ ok ❤️ we can move out tomorrow ❤️ and they find a tiny flat that's deeply overpriced but it's Them and it works. oscar plans his days off so he can go to half the races but nobody ever even notices him because the photographers don't know he exists.... except for maxv who lives in their building and met oscar once and was immediately like I Respect You #fellowsimracer so now whenever he sees oscar they get caught up in a conversation for like 30 minutes about random nerd shit and lando is very discombobulated about it every time. on the other hand maxf has been trying to be chill about lando of all people having been in a healthy committed relationship for the past 6-ish years so he frequently gets into trouble for making bad jokes about their sex life on stream that everyone thinks is them being homophobic etc. etc. ANYWAY YOU GET THE GIST OF IT!!!

#ask #this is so so stupid i'm sorry. but personally idt there can ever be enough secret relationship fic <3

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firstelevens · 2 months

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and if yes, then for the taylor swift lyrics prompts: sambucky and nr. 13 and 14 (not necessarily combined, more so you can choose which one you like best or do both, i don’t know :)) 🩵✌️ btw I love, LOVE your sambucky f1 au 🫡

This is part of a canon divergence AU that I'm hoping to write more of this coming year. It just fit the spirit of the prompt, if not the letter of it, so I had to throw a little standalone prologue out there. Hopefully you'll see more of this soon!

13. never called it what it was

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

The voice comes from behind Sam, and he mentally congratulates himself for not jumping out of his skin in surprise. He knows that Bucky almost can’t help how quiet his footsteps are, but if Sam keeps getting snuck up on like this, his blood pressure is going to suffer.

“I know,” says Sam, and leaves it at that. He and Bucky have had this conversation a hundred times in the past two days, and the hundred and first is unlikely to be any different. He keeps his eyes on the lake in front of them and changes the subject. “Pretty sure it’s bad luck for us to see each other right now.”

“Pretty sure that only applies to real weddings,” is Bucky’s quiet reply.

Sam doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he doesn’t. He has the stray thought that they should work on the communication thing, maybe. His parents could have whole conversations in a single look across a room, in one touch of the arm. Sarah and Aaron would tie up the phone line for hours when they were first dating, even Sam and Riley had developed a language entirely their own.

In fairness, Sam thinks, those relationships had all had years to grow, and until forty-eight hours ago, Sam had no idea that he was getting married at all, much less to whom.

Privately, he thinks he might have jinxed it. After a five day period in which he’d re-materialized into existence, fended off an apocalypse, attended a funeral, and watched his best friend disappear to live seventy years of life without him, Sam had been certain that nothing could catch him by surprise anymore.

Then a woman in a crisp pantsuit had appeared at the lakeside property where they were hunkering down, carrying stacks of paperwork and photocopies of birth records from a hundred years ago. She’d sat down in a meeting room and reported to them what she’d discovered five years ago, right before being Snapped out of existence: that Bucky might have been from Brooklyn, but he hadn’t been born there, or anywhere else in America, and that the information had been easy enough to find that Ross’s people were sure to locate it as soon as the motion for a pardon was submitted.

It wasn’t hard to make the leap from there. Calling Bucky’s citizenship into question would be silly, but it would be enough of a distraction that Ross could mire the proceedings in bureaucracy and take Bucky back into custody in the interest of public safety. Sam didn’t imagine it would take too long for the paperwork to suddenly get lost after that, and with it would go any notion of Bucky’s freedom.

He remembered watching the Raft rise up out of the ocean for the first time. His whole life, the water had been home to him, but the desolation of that place had warped it somehow.

That’s what Sam had been thinking of when he wracked his brain for a solution. That’s what he’d been thinking of when he turned to the lawyer and asked, “Well, what if he was married to an American citizen?”

Bucky, who’d spent the entire meeting until now sitting concerningly still, had suddenly whipped around to look at Sam, eyes wide. He’d felt Rhodey’s eyes on him, too, but the lawyer hadn’t blinked. In a few seconds, she’d sketched out a game plan on a legal pad, laying it out on the conference room table alongside all the other options she’d presented.

The first ‘You don’t have to do this’ had come shortly afterwards. Sam’s response had been the same then as it was now.

He feels Bucky come to stand beside him, his left hand resting on the railing a few inches from Sam’s right. The gold threaded through the vibranium sparkles in the sun, and he has the childish urge to trail his fingers over it.

“I’m disappointed,” says Sam, just to stop himself from reaching out. “I would’ve expected Princess Shuri to make a flashy black-tie addition to your arm for the wedding.”

“She added strobe lights, but they only work when it’s dark,” says Bucky, dry as a bone, and it startles a laugh out of Sam.

“At least we know the reception will be fun.”

Bucky hums in what he assumes is agreement. It’s quiet again for a moment, but he can sense Bucky shifting uncomfortably and he knows that there’s more.

“While, um– while we wait for the strobe lights to kick in, she did make us these.”

A crown of flowers suddenly appears in front of Sam, jasmine and jacaranda woven together with some kind of vine. He gingerly takes it from Bucky’s hand.

“Is…is this traditional? For a Wakandan wedding?”

“No,” comes another voice from behind them, and this time Sam does startle, nearly dropping the crown in the process. They both turn to Princess Shuri, dressed for a wedding and grinning cheekily at them both. “They’re not Wakandan tradition, but they are the kind of thing that Americans do when they get married abroad. I thought it might make the wedding pictures more believable.”

Sam laughs and perches the crown on his head. “You really do think of everything.”

Shuri’s mischievous smile softens. “I’m glad you’ve joined us here, Sam Wilson,” she says. “Nobody else appreciates my foresight.”

“Putting a bluetooth speaker in my arm is not foresight, Shuri,” says Bucky. “It’s just the product of a weird dream you had after staying up for forty hours in your lab.”

“It could be both,” protests the princess, laughing, and Sam can’t help but look over at Bucky, tired of sticking to peripheral glances.

He’s got the flower crown on his head, too, purple and white just like Sam’s is. His suit is a deep burgundy to complement Sam’s rust colored brocade, and Sam can only guess that Bucky received a visit similar to the one that Sam got from Ayo this morning. He’d opened the door to his quarters to find her holding a garment bag. She’d offered it to him and told Sam that she would be honored to see him marry James—it had taken Sam a moment to remember that his husband to be wasn’t actually named after a college mascot from Wisconsin—in the reds of her tribe. Sam, who’d spent the morning missing his family something fierce, had almost been too overwhelmed to thank her.

Now, he can see that it was a two-pronged attack, and while Sam’s suit fits him pretty well, there’s clearly a tailor in Birnin Zana who had all of Bucky’s measurements stashed away on file somewhere, because the way that that jacket sits on his shoulders and hugs his arms could not possibly happen by accident.

When Sam manages to tear his eyes away, he only barely catches the end of Shuri’s sentence.

“...whenever you are,” she’s saying. “But I can stall, if you two want another moment here.”

“I think we’re good,” says Bucky. “How much time does anyone need to get ready for a fake wedding, anyway?”

Shuri tsks at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask that question to someone who knows how long your spent on your hair this morning.”

Bucky makes a face at her, and Sam’s pretty sure that she blows a raspberry in response, but he’s distracted. Something about Bucky’s words feels wrong, even though all he’s doing is telling the truth.

He can’t get all caught up in that now, though. Instead, Sam turns to the princess. “I’m all ready to go, too.”

“Good!” says Shuri, clapping her hands decisively. “I’ll escort you in, Sam, if you will allow me. Bucky will follow shortly with Ayo.”

Sam tells Shuri that he’d be honored to walk with her and offers her his elbow, which she takes. They start to make their way to where the ceremony will take place, but Sam hesitates for a moment, looking back over his shoulder.

Bucky’s name comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and Bucky’s gaze immediately lands on him.

“Yeah?”

It’s not a fake wedding, Sam wants to tell him. You marry someone because you want them to stay and I think you should be able to stay. That’s not fake; that’s as real as anything else.

But he loses his nerve and just taps the flower crown on his head. “Your crown’s crooked. Just so you know.”

“Oh,” says Bucky. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other for another beat, and Sam is so sure that Bucky is going to say something, but then he looks away, reaching up to fix his crown, and all Sam can do is let Shuri lead him away.

#sambucky #marriage of convenience fic is just so FUN y'all there's so much room for pining deliciousness #but also nobody ask how many versions of this prologue I wrote #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics #anon you sent this to me in November thank you for your patience #my fic #anonymous

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f1crecs · 6 months

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Help Needed - Fic Rec Volunteer

I need some help!

Please reblog this so it can reach more people. 🤍

This blog has received some truly wonderful feedback, including that it is a useful resource, and I am desperate to keep it going.

As you may have noticed, though, posting has definitely trailed off a little bit! That is mainly because I am just one person, with a busy job and a few new hobbies to contend with.

I am, therefore, looking for 1 - 5 volunteers to help me with the research, requesting, and formatting of this blog. If by some miracle I am inundated with requests to help, I may not be able to take on everyone, as this would become hard to manage.

Please see below for full details. It is really important that you read through the Important Points section before putting your name forward. 😊

What would I be doing?

You would be putting forward fics to include on the fic rec lists on the @f1crecs blog, based on a given prompt. This could be a pairing (maxiel/piarles/strollonso) or a trope (soulmates/coffee shop au/canon divergence). This would include you selecting a favourite quote from the fic, as well as a brief summary of why you enjoyed it.

How would it work?

🔸️ We would communicate on a Discord server.

🔸️ I would receive requests for rec lists through the blog's inbox, and share them in the Discord server.

🔸️ We would have channels to work together to compile the lists.

🔸️ We would decide together on a banner image and any other text needed.

🔸️ I would format the post and publish to the blog, crediting you in the body of the post.

🔸️ I imagine we'd work on five or so requests at a time, dependent on numbers. 😊

What pairings do you need help with?

All of them! I am looking for support with all pairings and tropes - I believe that rec blogs are stronger when run by a team, as they have more eyes and are less likely to forget or miss something. 😊

Due to gaps in my knowledge, the areas I need most support on are:

🫂 Maxiel and Lestappen fics

🫂 Sebastian, Daniel, Valtteri, Mick, and Lewis centric fics

🫂 Rookies fics (Oscar, Logan, Nyck)

🫂 Gen fics

But as I said - whatever your favourite pairing, you are welcome here and your knowledge will be much appreciated 🤍

Important Points

‼️ I ask for permission from EVERY author that I want to feature on a fic rec list. By joining the blog team, you would agree to do the same. If we are not given permission to list the fic, or if the author does not respond within one week of our request, the fic does not get included on the list (or any future list). You will be given a template to make these requests, to make this easier. 🥰

‼️ When compiling the lists, I include my favourite quote from the fic and a couple of sentences about why I enjoyed it. Please consider if this is something you'd be willing to do.

‼️ I have all kinds of pairings and character requests come through to the inbox. f1crecs is a neutral space, with no driver, ship, or trope hate allowed.

‼️ This blog is f1 only. At least one person in the pairing must be, or have been, in f1 - or, if gen, the central character must be or have been in f1.

How do I express interest/ask questions?

Message the blog (@f1crecs) or send me a quick inbox by 3rd November. Thank you!

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nottonyharrison · 4 months

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would you ever do an f1/hogwarts AU? i love your wriring and would love to see this from you

Hi Anon! Thanks for the compliment but no there is no planet on which I would ever do anything again involving The Fandom That Must Not Be Named, as I have no interest in perpetuating the popularity which continues to assist of one of the most insidiously dangerous transphobes on the planet to line their pockets and fund anti-trans causes and agendas.

(and I also don't generally do AUs beyond a bit of canon divergence but that's beside the point)

#anonymous #fic stuff #believe it or not I used to write a lot for this fandom back in the day #while the fics haven't been fully deleted #they are in an unrevealed anonymous collection so that nobody will be able to ever access them again #They remain only as a reminder of my fandom history to myself #and because I have an obsessive relationship with my Ao3 wordcount and goals surrounding it

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littlemisspascal · 1 year

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Part 1: Hello, My Name Is...

Summary:

“Hey.” A hand lightly grabs onto your elbow just as you turn to leave. You turn back, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at Javi’s proximity, that same soft look in his gaze. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I think we’ll make a great team.”

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Pairing: eventual Javi/Fem!Reader "Oddball" (OFC)*

Word Count: 7000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Formula One AU ft. multiple Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe characters, Human AU, Canon Divergence, Switching POVs, Worldbuilding, Social Media Fic, Headlines inspired by true events but edited for this plot, Slowest of Slow Burn, Language

Author Note: So excited to begin the next arc of this story & for Javi and Odds to finally meet 😊 Thank you everyone who's given this series a chance, I appreciate all of you!

Winter Banners credit here!

A03 Link | Series Masterlist

*see series masterlist for more info

[Collection of sticky notes pasted on bathroom mirror in your handwriting]

It’s a beautiful day

Remember to smile!

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

[A new note with hastily scribbled words is added to the bunch]

I can handle this

There are many perks which come with being an F1 driver besides being paid to do what you love. Getting to travel across the world nine months out of the year; 5-star hotel accommodations; free clothes and accessories to represent your team from head to toe. But your brand-new Vulpecula GT is the gift that keeps on giving, especially when the cold winds of winter blow into Altair, dropping the temperature significantly. What would have been a miserable journey on your bike to HQ is a pleasantly warm and comfortable trip in your beautiful silver baby with padded leather seats.

You may or may not press a kiss against the steering wheel after parking, your heart growing just a little bit larger to accommodate this wonderful treasure.

The clock chimes nine as you step through the entrance doors, letting out a relieved breath when the heat of the building melts away the chill that nipped at your exposed face on your short walk up the pathway. You’d been a nervous wreck this morning, rifling through your closet for an outfit that was professional yet warm at the same time. Vivian had explicitly told you no when asked if hoodies or sweatshirts counted as business attire which meant your options were frustratingly few.

You tug on the collar of your turtleneck sweater, then spare a subtle glance down at the rest of your outfit, praying there aren’t any toothpaste stains anywhere. Once on your crotch area during your high school years was embarrassing enough to live through.

It’s been awhile since you’ve felt this level of nervousness before. The kind of nervousness where your fingers can’t stop fidgeting and your heartbeat resembles a dull roar of thunder and time has two speeds: a cheetah or a snail, no in-betweens. You wish you had someone to distract you from your spiraling thoughts. Your friends, your parents, even Diana would be welcome despite her usual method of making you do squats or jumping jacks or another equally annoying exercise.

You’ll have Vivian as one familiar face during the meeting at least. You’re on good terms with the older woman, admiring how she can switch aspects of her personality from friendly and wisecracking to fierce and competitive on the spur of the moment. She’s been patient with you during your journey to this point, and now that you’re here, an official driver for her team, you want to make her proud. You want to silence any possible doubts that all the time, energy, and funding spent on you weren’t gigantic wastes.

Photographs of past Vulpecula drivers line the white hallway walls as you head to the conference rooms, footsteps echoing off the concrete tiled floor. The images remind whoever sees them of the team’s long history and its accomplishments. For some viewers they stir feelings of nostalgia, but for you they fill you with the desire to become a part of the Vulpecula legacy. To one day see your picture hanging there and maybe, if you’re lucky enough, a championship trophy in your hands.

Inside the main meeting room you discover a small group already seated at the long wooden table taking up the majority of the space. Vivian’s at the front, some executives and engineers you vaguely recognize meeting once or twice sitting on either side of her; then there’s the pit crew chief, Melshi, and the number one mechanic, Cassian, sitting side by side, attached at the hip just like they are in the paddock garage during race weekends.

Vivian stands up and pulls you into a bear hug when you draw closer, her favorite greeting style, squeezing you so tight you swear you hear your ribs groaning like they’re on the verge of snapping. She’s in high spirits, smiling widely and looking mere seconds away from bouncing up and down with giddy excitement.

“I have such a good feeling about you two,” she says, never one to beat around the bush, hands squeezing your shoulders once, twice, and then bobbing her head affirmatively. “2023 is going to be a great year, I just know it.”

Her positive vibes are contagious, bringing a smile to your own face that lingers even as you take a seat and notice for the first time the last empty chair remaining is right across from you. Clearly it’s meant for Javi. The seating chart most likely designed to force you and him to talk to each other.

And there’s that nervousness again, back with a vengeance.

It’s just…meeting Javi, officially face to face, right here in the beating heart of your career, makes everything seem overwhelmingly real all of the sudden. You’re an F1 driver. You’ve made it. Everything you’ve done, all the blood, sweat, and tears have brought you to this moment. You’re half-tempted to pinch yourself, one last test to confirm this isn’t all an elaborate dream.

You can blame the chill that runs down your spine on the weather, but it’s not so easy to explain away the heavy weight settling in your stomach like a stone.

The door opens, thoughts falling silent as you look up to meet brown eyes.

“Javi!” Vivian calls out, standing and gesturing him over. “Come on in, don’t be shy. Everyone’s excited to finally meet you.”

The man steps further into the room, flashing a dimpled grin that leaves you a little stunned. You thought it before, a couple months back in the paddock, and you think it again now: Javi is even more attractive when seeing him in person. He could have easily been a model in another life—warm brown eyes resembling melted caramel when the light hits just right, a strong nose and chiseled jawline, disheveled curls giving the impression he just rolled out of bed and yet somehow he makes the look work. Plus, nobody should look as immaculate as he does in a black puffer jacket and matching trousers.

Your eyes follow him, watching Vivian introduce him to everybody, handshake after handshake, polite nice to meet you’s falling off his lips and do your ears deceive you or does he actually sound sincere? He wears an easy smile, if perhaps a little nervous looking around the edges (or maybe that’s wishful thinking), shoulders drawn back and brow pinched in concentration as he engages in conversation with the higher-ups. A professional, that’s what he looks like. And you? You’ve just realized your socks don’t match.

The age gap of five and half years suddenly seems massive between you and Javi. You have a lot of growing to do, a lot of learning, and not just when you’re behind the wheel of the car. It takes all your self-restraint not to slump down in your chair with the desire to disappear from view.

Finally, after his introductions to Cassian and Melshi have wrapped up, it’s your turn. Brown eyes momentarily pin you in place, body glued to the leather seat, and you think your heartbeat can be heard by the whole room, seconds away from bursting out of your chest and making a bloody mess on the tabletop.

He steps closer, grin widening, as warm and bright as fireworks during New Years, and says, “Oddball.”

The sound of your name jerks you out of your daze, standing up so fast you nearly send your chair toppling over. You wince at the loud noise, embarrassment flooding your system. Somewhere from the other end of the table, someone (probably Cassian, the jerk) barely conceals their snort of laughter behind a cough.

It’s just shy of mortifying.

Javi doesn’t stop smiling. Doesn’t laugh, either. The only change is his eyes—a subtle softening with an emotion you’d label as fondness if you actually, like, knew the man. Since you’re barely even acquaintances though, you’re uncertain what the look means. If it even means anything at all.

You run your hands over the front of your turtleneck, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles, and fumble for words that won’t make you sound like a complete idiot. “Yo.”

Wonderful. You’ve made it officially mortifying now.

He chuckles and holds out a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Growing up, one of your father’s life lessons was how to give a proper handshake. First impressions are important, he’d always say, and every night you’d practice until it became second nature: keep it firm, keep it dry, and keep it short. Also a smile goes a long ways.

“Yes it is.” Your eyes widen. “Oh, no, that’s not—I meant, it is great, like, in general!” you say hastily, dropping his hand and doing some sort of childish thumbs up gesture you immediately regret. “Great to meet you! Like you said. Face to face finally. It’s super…great.”

You’re honestly beginning to think you’ve been cursed to forever make a fool of yourself in front of Javi.

“Well said, Odds. Well said,” Vivian laughs. She gestures for Javi to take the empty chair you’d predicted was his. “We’ve just got a few things to discuss, some dates to go over. Then we’ll take a couple of photos and both of you will go on with your day, alright? Oddball, sim work as usual. Javi, a tour to get you familiar with the place.”

“Sounds great,” Javi agrees.

You just give a wordless nod, sitting down again and avoiding looking up from the very interesting grooves in the wood even when Javi tries to catch your eye across the table. Embarrassment clings to your skin, teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your anxiety has always been a fickle beast, refusing at the worst of times to be pushed to the back of your mind where you’d prefer it to be.

Vivian’s talking, saying something about data and statistics, but between your rampant insecurities and Javi’s nearness, it’s a hopeless cause paying her any attention. If there’s anything really important being said you’re sure someone else will repeat it later or pass the info on to your manager. So in the meantime, your gaze flicks between the table and your fiddling hands in your lap, leg bouncing a restless rhythm, riding out the anxious wave until it’s over and calmness returns. It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.

When it’s time for photos, Vivian stands in-between you and Javi, arms thrown enthusiastically around your shoulders. You smile at the line of people with their phones out, looking like a room full of proud parents taking pictures of their kids’ first day at school, and you realize for Javi, that’s exactly what this is. Day one in a brand new town in a brand new place with brand new people. For all your teammate’s experience and skills on the track, he severely lacks your knowledge and familiarity of Vulpecula.

Which means you both have some learning to do. And that is a surprisingly gratifying thought.

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Vulpecula HQ is massive, a labyrinth of hallways and offices and staircases Javi knows will take him weeks, possibly months to memorize. But it becomes abundantly clear during his tour with Vivian—a CEO who’s blunt, loud, and so totally unlike his previous team principals he can’t help but marvel at her—that should he ever find himself lost, there will always be someone nearby to point him in the right direction.

People here actually seem to care about each other. About him, even, and they’ve only literally just met him. They talk to him like he’s a person, not a driver or pawn to manipulate. Ask him how he’s settling in, what he likes to do in his free time, if he has any holiday plans. They seem genuinely interested in his answers too, not politely faking it out of professional courtesy like they did at Triple Frontier and Crane. At Black Gold the staff only cared about his hobbies if they negatively affected his results, telling him to quit them if they did. And back then, young and eager to please, he obeyed every command without question, no matter the personal sacrifice.

It’s…nice to be heard for a change. If he’s honest, he thought it would be a struggle to connect with Vulpecula. Oddball is the rookie on the grid, but around here Javi’s the newbie at the lunch table. A newbie who just last month was their competition. The warm welcome by a building full of strangers was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. It has made the nervous knot of tension in his chest loosen for the first time since he signed his contract, replacing it with a budding sense of belonging he’s never felt during his years in F1.

And as for Oddball—she’s the biggest surprise of all, he thinks. She’s got more layers than an onion. He’s seen her own personal videos, how she acts around her friends and the press, never did he anticipate her to be shy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, no. He actually found himself rather endeared by her awkward fumbling, like witnessing a baby horse learning to stand up on wobbly legs. It’s just…he’s a little unsure how their relationship will progress from here. Her determination to avoid eye contact with him wasn’t exactly inspiring.

She’d smiled at him at the end, at least. Bright and excited and so very, very young. Me too, Javi. Me too.

He doesn’t know much about Vulpecula yet, doesn’t know what the future will bring either, but what he does know from personal experience is that teammates who can get along with each other have better seasons than those who don’t. And if he can be a good teammate for Oddball and vice versa, then he thinks there’s no reason why they can’t maybe one day be good friends as well.

SPORTS: THE VROOM ZONE

Exclusive: Ahsoka Tano Discusses Formula 1’s Heavy Toll on Mental Health

By Poppy Adams | December 5, 2022

In a city of dome-roofed, adobe buildings all the same shade as the encompassing sandy desert, Ahsoka Tano is just as instantly recognized by her white-and-blue dyed hair here as she was in the F1 paddock six years ago. Remembered fondly by the racing community for her sharp moves on the track and even sharper tongue in the media pen, Tano has settled down in Mos Espa (a favorite spot for retired and current F1 drivers alike) and enjoys a peaceful life after successfully securing the world champion title back in 2016 she’d been chasing since she was a youngling.

I meet with her at the Mos Espa Grand Arena, the site of several world-famous races from pods to swoop bikes, but most importantly to the present company, it’s also where the Mos Espa Grand Prix has been held annually for almost a hundred years. There are no events this week, no 100,000 fans screaming their lungs out in the stands. It’s just Tano, me, and two delicious cups of Deychin tea.

Tano, dressed in a blue tank top and matching leggings, spares a moment to gaze at the starting grid below, no doubt remembering the days when she was down there looking up at where we sit now. “I’ll never forget it,” she says, tapping her temple with that famous crooked smirk of hers. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

The “ugly” side of F1 is why Tano and I are meeting this December afternoon. The Outer Rim native twice made history in the sport by being the second female driver to compete and also by being the second female driver to win a world championship title, but her rise to the top wasn’t an easy one. Looking back at old interview footage will show a young woman fearless of her competition and full of a passionate love for racing, but off-camera she was plagued by anxiety and insecurities. “It’s still a little hard to process at times. How some of my darkest moments are so deeply intertwined with some of the best years of my life,” she says.

She tells me about the way she was encouraged to never let herself appear weak when cameras were around, “to maintain this image that I was invincible, the definition of confident.” In the aftermath of making mistakes on track, where every 10th of a second can determine where a driver ranks against their competition, Tano would spend hours worrying about the potential consequences on her career, if they would set off a domino effect ultimately leading to her downfall. “I would just keep on spiraling and spiraling deeper into this horrible pit,” she explains. “And I couldn’t tell anyone about it.”

When Tano sought out therapy at the end of 2015, she did so feeling burnt out and at the end of her rope. “I considered quitting racing. I talked with my manager about buying my way out of my contract and everything, but he convinced me to give therapy a chance first.” She smiles then, a beaming grin brighter than the overhead sun. “Thank the Maker I listened to him.” Therapy gave Tano the outlet she desperately needed, a place where she could “open up about my darkness and find the light again.” She returned to the grid in 2016 as a proud advocate for mental health awareness, breaking protocol by candidly discussing anxiety and depression during press conferences and on social media to her millions of followers. “I refused to be silent anymore,” she tells me. “The more I spoke up, the more people I impacted, the more acceptable a topic it became to hear about in the paddock.” Since Tano’s retirement, drivers continue to be inspired by her transparency and speak about their own fears and vulnerabilities, a development Tano hopes will continue for decades to come.

Recently Tano has begun planning to start a charity called Fulcrum devoted to helping people, especially athletes, with depression, anxiety, and other mental health related conditions. “It’s a slow process, but if I can help even one single person then all this hard work will have been completely worth the effort,” she says. In spite of the challenges she faced and the dark pits she had to mentally crawl out of, she remains thankful of her accomplishments and for everyone who supported her every step of the way.

“Formula One is not for the faint-hearted. It’s constant pressure, constant eyes watching your every move, constant judgment and opinions,” Tano says.

“Why compete then? Why stay in such a hostile environment?” I ask.

Tano sips at her tea. Her eyes drift to the starting grid again, lips curling into a soft smile, an expression on her face I have a feeling not many can claim they have been fortunate to see.

“For every driver, there will come a moment when you’re driving down a straight at 200 miles per hour, preparing to brake for the corner up ahead, and all of the sudden, every thought fades from your mind. You’ll forget your training, your strategy. All that remains is pure instinct. And you’ll learn in that exact moment, in that fraction of a second, who you are and what you’re made of,” she says. “We compete for the fun of it. We stay to discover more about ourselves.”

The next time you see Javi is at simulator practice two days later. It’s still a bit of a jarring moment seeing him at HQ, even more so finding him dressed in cobalt blue racing gear while talking to one of the simulator operators. Maybe you’re a bit biased, but you can’t help admiring how much better he looks in Vulpecula’s colors than Triple Frontier’s.

You offer a timid smile when his gaze flicks your way, trying to keep your tone light rather than weak and shaky like the rest of you. “First time on the sim?”

He turns towards you, giving you his full attention in such an easygoing, yet intense way it does little to soothe your frazzled nerves. “That’s right. It’s really quite something. A lot bigger than I’m used to.”

“That’s what she said.”

There’s a beat of silence, just Javi staring at you wide-eyed like he can’t believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him and you staring right back, unable to believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him. And then, the moment dangling on that thin cusp between hilarity and mortification—a laugh bubbles up out of Javi’s throat, loud and infectious, and you’re both done for. Hysterically giggling like a pair of idiots, like it’s the funniest thing in the universe, like whatever remaining ice between you has officially and eternally been broken.

“Sorry,” you say finally, manic laughter fading into something lighter, friendlier than before. “I watch way too much TV.”

“Inconceivable.”

The familiar word elicits another laugh out of you. “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Javi smiles, a radiant and genuine thing, nothing like the stiff, polite ones PR managers insisted drivers learn. “We should watch the movie together sometime. Maybe on our next day off, when this,” he gestures towards the simulator, “isn’t requiring all our time.”

“Think you’re ready for it?” you ask, and you’re surprised by the note of cheekiness slipping into your tone, because this easiness, this playfulness, you’ve only known it with Eggsy and Ben before. And that came after months spent together, after years of building a solid friendship week by week from the ground up—not this fast, not after only one previous meeting.

“Am I ready for it?” he replies, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re the rookie around here, no? Shouldn’t you be asking me for tips?”

Your good mood dims a little, thinking about the high number of crashes you’ve experienced these last few months. He’s right, even if he said it jokingly, that you should be asking him for tips. You could most likely learn a lot from him.

But your stubborn pride dismisses the notion with a scoff, reminding you that you didn’t come this far in your career by asking men for advice.

“Nuh-uh,” you say instead, crossing your arms and jutting out your chin. “I’ve got skills that’ll blow your mind.”

He leans forward, mirroring your pose, confidently rising to the unspoken challenge. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Prove it.”

Your lips mouth silent words, mind struggling to keep up with the verbal tennis match, ultimately coming up with an intelligent, “Huh?”

“You heard me,” is the swift reply, one eyebrow arching up pointedly. “I wanna see the legendary rookie Oddball’s skills. Impress me, rarita.”

In an effort to pretend his unwavering stare isn’t turning your mind to mush, you make an exaggerated show of rolling your eyes and swatting at his shoulder. “Challenge accepted, curls. Step aside and watch the master.”

Snorting, Javi obeys and goes to stand with the rest of the staff half-hidden behind an array of computer screens, who blessedly keep up their professional personas and pretend they haven’t been listening to your exchange. The chief simulator operator gives you a thumb’s up to get in the sim and you grab your spare helmet from the nearby shelf, feeling a pinch of nervousness ache inside your sternum.

It’ll be fine, you think, positioning yourself in the simulator seat, hands grabbing the steering wheel. Just do your best.

Your best is your best until it’s not.

You start off well, braking and accelerating at precisely the right moments, the trees and bleacher stands mere blurs streaking by in your peripheral. You’re in the zone, that precious driver headspace where the only thing you know, the only thing you feel is the car, the car, the car.

And then you’re spinning off track.

For a long moment, all you can do is stare, dazed as if you really had just collided with the barrier. And then comes the sickening bite of disappointment and frustration because you can see the finish line. It’s right there. Right fucking there and you failed to reach it. Again.

Simulation over, silence floods the room. The air seems to turn frigid cold, felt even beneath the thick material of your suit. You want to scream, to curse, to hit something. But you’re a professional driver now, F1 career in its infancy. You can’t risk the bad reputation of throwing a tantrum.

After all, this is just a practice run. No harm, no foul. Except…if you were to crash like that for real, you would have just cost your team not only desperately needed points to stay ahead of other teams, but also hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of repairs, possibly millions. Your team is counting on you not to make dumb mistakes and lately that seems to be the only thing you’re capable of doing. And if you don’t get your shit together by pre-testing…

Your jaws clenches, unable to finish the thought.

The worst thing is, Javi’s staring. Unlike the rest of the room’s inhabitants who devote their focus to pouring over the data, muttering amongst themselves, he’s watching you like you’re a rare bug under a microscope, something peculiar and puzzling. It’s unbearable.

You climb your way out of the simulator, head ducked, jaw clenched. When you turn around, when the helmet comes off, you’ll paste a rueful grin on your face. You’ll accept the pats on your shoulder, the repetitive phrases of better luck next time and we’ll keep practicing, don’t worry. You’ll make fun of yourself, pick apart your mistakes until their sting is gone.

You’ll make everyone believe you're fine. That your anxiety isn’t a problem. That you’re more than capable of representing the team (and womankind) on the grid.

It’s a good plan. A solid plan. A plan that has worked over and over again ever since you signed on as Vulpecula’s reserve driver what feels like a hundred lifetimes ago.

What you don’t count on is Javi approaching you, blocking your view of the strategists and operators with his broad shoulders almost like he’s purposefully trying to spare you from their prying eyes. You slowly slide your helmet over your head, blinking at him, fighting to keep your carefully composed mask in place.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, tone light yet your spine tenses all the same. “My mind is blown.”

“Right, very funny,” you reply sourly, rolling your eyes.

His hand reaches out and brushes against your elbow, a reassuring touch your anxiety-stricken mind doesn’t know how to process. “I’m serious. If not for that last corner curb, turning just a hair too early, you would have beaten the fastest lap record by three seconds. You’re quick, Oddball. Smart, too. You’ll learn from these mistakes, become a better racer.” A pause, another soft nudge against your arm. “Maybe even better than me if you’re really lucky.”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until a choked laugh escapes you. Sounds more like a wheeze, actually. High-pitched and painful and all wrong. But it cuts through the anxiety, takes you out of your head for a blissful moment.

Javi, the dear man you’re beginning to suspect doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, makes no comment on it.

“Okay, curls,” you say, and you’re not ready to smile yet, but you’re definitely closer to feeling like your usual and real self than you were before he came over. “Your turn. Let’s see what you got.”

He moves to grab his own spare helmet from the shelf. And there’s a moment, barely a glimpse, where your eyes lock with his, and somehow you know he hears the unspoken thank you lodged in the back of your throat.

With a great promotion comes a greater responsibility. Now that you're an official driver for the team, you’re not just expected to race for them, you’re expected to promote them too. Which means a whole new intense level of media and sponsoring obligations you never had to deal with when you were in F2.

Vivian assigns you a PR manager—a blonde named Barbara Minerva with a friendly smile and a penchant for wearing animal print—to help you prepare for the big adjustment, training you on what and what not to say as well as how to control your facial expressions when the press are shoving microphones at you. The last thing you want is your pineapple face witnessed by millions of people worldwide.

You like Barbara, you really do. She used to work for Black Gold so she’s an expert on handling pretty much every type of media scandal or drama outburst one can imagine. She instructs you on when to be serious and when to be coy with the reporters, how to neutrally navigate uncomfortable topics without pissing anyone off, and even comes up with a hand signal to use when you’re feeling overwhelmed and need her to intervene. Barbara’s great, but that doesn’t change the fact media training is fucking exhausting. Brain working overtime, critically analyzing every word that comes out of your mouth, every facial tic and flutter of your eyelids with a giant magnifying glass, alarms blaring with every perceived flaw. You start dreading the hour each day, counting down the minutes until you can escape and give your pounding head a break from the information overload.

And this is just the training. It pains you to think about how much worse the real thing will be, even with Barbara swearing she’ll be by your side through it all.

After media training, you fall into a routine of grabbing a snack from the mess hall on the third floor, usually an apple or a granola bar, something Diana wouldn’t give you the stink eye for discovering, and then finding a quiet corner to sit and decompress for a few minutes.

This isn’t a new thing—this desire for privacy, for solitude. You used to do it back on Sorgan, too, when the bullying from the other kids got under your skin, self-doubts bubbling to the surface. It became increasingly harder to find a quiet space once you switched from karting to formula racing, more eyes and more judgment seeking you out, and it's kind of funny how your world became so much larger and so much smaller simultaneously.

You’re musing over this thought, chewing on an apple while nestled in a lounge chair, minding your own business, when you’re interrupted by the soft clearing of a throat. You look up, nearly choking on your mouthful when you find Javi staring down at you, dressed in a flannel plaid shirt that’s tight around his broad shoulders and carrying an apple of his own.

One day you hope the sight of him will stop sending your heart into cardiac arrest. Preferably soon, because you’re really not sure how much more you can take.

“Mind if I join you?” Javi asks, gesturing to the other lounge chair. He’s looking at you with those doe brown eyes all round and full of hope you’d have to be a heartless monster to deny him, so you just nod your head.

For a long moment neither of you say anything. It’s not an awkward silence, but it’s not comfortable either. Just two people existing in the same time and space. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Javi leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, and it’s a little unfair how easily he can settle into new places, blending in like he was always meant to be there.

“So,” he starts, mouth curling into a grin when you look over, “you come here often?”

“It’s nice,” you say. “I like the quiet.”

“Oh.” Javi tenses, spine straightening. “I-I can go, if you want me—”

“No!” You throw out an arm as if to physically grab him. He freezes, one leg raised off the table, blinking at you. Oh, God. You’ve really made it weird now. Licking your lips, you lower your tone back to its usual pitch, reassuring him, “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind you being here.”

It startles you to realize you’re not lying.

The reason you seek out alone time is just that, to be alone. When you’re in these moods you don’t like anyone invading your space. Not your friends or your parents. Nobody. It’s an unspoken rule of yours.

But then there’s Javi, settling back into his seat with a warm, dimpled grin, looking so strangely content to be allowed to stay, and it doesn’t seem so bad making an exception for him.

“I like the quiet, too,” Javi admits. “Back home, there are these cliffs overlooking the ocean for miles and miles, endlessly blue. It's my favorite sight on the whole island. I could spend hours up there…”

He trails off, lost in a memory, and for the first time since arriving at Vulpecula he seems dejected, eyes dimming. You’re familiar enough with the look of homesickness after seeing it in the mirror a dozen times to recognize it on someone else’s face.

“There aren’t any cliffs or oceans in Altair, but there’s some pretty great restaurants and bakeries,” you say. There’s a French café down the street from your apartment which you can confidently claim makes the best croissants in the whole world, buttery and flaky and oh so delicious to enjoy on your cheat days. “Festivals and concerts, too, if you’re interested.”

Javi looks at you, a mix of interest and surprise. “Are you offering to be my tour guide, rarita?”

“Only for the sake of the team, of course,” you tell him with mock seriousness. “Can’t have you winding up lost in some back alleyway before a race weekend.”

“The press would have a field day,” he agrees, voice just as deadpan. His eyes widen with alarm. “Ay, Dios! Think of the fans! Their memes will be absolutely merciless. I’ll never leave my apartment again.”

You can’t keep up your straight face, laughing and shaking your head. “Exactly. Lucky for you, Altair is basically my second home. I know it like the back of my hand.”

“Lucky me.” He nods, running a hand over his curls, and, okay, maybe you really do have a serious heart condition because what is happening. Distracted by the frantic beating, you nearly miss him asking, “You grew up in the Outer Rim, right?”

“That’s right.” Pride slips into your voice, gesturing towards yourself with a thumb. “Straight outta Sorgan.”

Javi chuckles. “Do your parents still live there?”

“Yep. They’re krill farmers, just like everybody else in the village. They fly out to races when they can, and when they can’t, well,” you shrug, “there’s always phone calls, right?”

His lip twitches, an aborted frown. “Yeah,” he says after a moment’s hesitation.

Okay. There’s obvious tension there. Curiosity prickles at the back of your mind, but when you notice the way his gaze has fallen to the floor, resembling a kicked puppy, you decide you don’t want to ask about it if it makes him look this sad.

Your fingers drum against your forgotten apple for a few seconds, then go still as an idea occurs.

“Hey, um,” you say tentatively, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. “I know you already got a tour of HQ from Vivian before, but how would you like a proper one? Oddball style?”

Javi blinks, eyebrows scrunching together, and the look really shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “Do I dare ask what ‘Oddball style’ means?”

“Nope. You’re either in or you're out, curls.”

“In that case,” Javi says, a smile spreading over his face. “Count me in.”

F1 Driver Javi Gutierrez Moves to Altair Ahead of Upcoming Season with Vulpecula

Written By: Raquel Wilde

"I'm looking forward to making memories here," says Javi Gutierrez, born and raised in Mallorca. "Altair's a nice place with nice people. It's starting to feel like a home away from home."

Gutierrez, who began racing in Formula 1 in 2018 when he was 21, has always felt drawn to the world of motorsports, claiming there's "no better feeling in the world than being behind the wheel". He will join Vulpecula in 2023 after finishing 11th in the driver standings this year with Triple Frontier.

He'll be paired with rookie driver known to Altair locals and the world as Oddball. Together they'll train at Vulpecula Headquarters these upcoming winter months to prepare for pre-season testing in February.

"I'm already planning on showing him all the best restaurants and sights," Oddball says, who has called Altair home for the past two years.

Oddball has become a familiar and much-loved presence to locals, often spotted buying groceries, biking around the park, and attending special events. In response to Gutierrez's arrival, signs of support have begun appearing in shop windows and on front lawns, welcoming him to the community and the massively adored F1 team.

Vulpecula CEO Vivian Etten has said Gutierrez is the leader the team needs to overcome their recent struggles. "He's made a lot of progress since his rookie year," Etten claims. "He's got the skills, the knowledge, and the right attitude."

If Gutierrez had not pursued racing, he would have tried to become a professional swimmer. It remains a favorite exercise and pastime of his. Perhaps when the weather turns warm, he might give the local rec center pool a visit when he’s not busy up at Vulpecula HQ.

Only time will tell what next season will bring for Gutierrez and Oddball. I imagine readers are hoping for podium finishes just as much as I am. In the upcoming weeks, Vulpecula's new drivers will be attending the Drive Awards and also enjoy some time off from their F1 duties to celebrate the holidays with their families.

“Gabriela!”

The brunette PR manager turns to find Barbara Minerva half-running, half-stumbling towards her in leopard print high heels. Memories of their shared seasons together at Black Gold come rushing to mind, leaning on each other when it felt like everything else was falling apart, and Gabriela can’t help opening her arms to embrace the other woman.

“Long time no see,” she says when she pulls back. Friendships are hard to maintain in the world of F1, especially when drivers are no longer on the same team. Gabriela can only recall seeing Barbara once during Javi’s time at Triple Frontier, and that had been just a passing glimpse across the paddock. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Aw, thanks. I like it better this way too.” Barbara smiles, eyes crinkling behind her glasses, and reaches up to touch the shoulder-length blonde waves. She then gestures towards Gabriela. “You look just as fabulous as I remember. How have you been?”

“Highs and lows. Mostly highs, thankfully,” Gabriela answers. A staff member walks by then, neatly sidestepping around them before carrying on down the hallway and the interruption reminds her exactly where they are. “Wait. Barb, what are you doing at Vulpecula?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Ballard isn’t the only one Black Gold gave the boot.”

“They what?” Gabriela’s jaw drops. She might be a kickass PR agent (in her opinion, at least), but that doesn’t always mean she has full control over her own reactions. Case in point.

“It’s all good though,” Barbara reassures her, pointing to a pin on her shirt Gabriela had failed to notice before. It’s the Vulpecula constellation logo. The same one Gabriela’s wearing beneath her coat. “Vulpecula reached out much more nicely than Black Gold ever spoke to me. Offered me more money too,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink.

The brunette starts to laugh, but then understanding fully sinks in. PR managers are brought onto F1 teams to handle the drivers, and since Javi already has one, then that can only mean—

“You’re Oddball’s manager?”

“That’s right.” The two women trade matching smiles. “She’s adorable. A giant work in progress, but adorable.”

Gabriela winces sympathetically. She remembers her early days with Javi when he made his rookie debut, how eager he’d been for people to like him, how hard she’d had to work to prevent the light in his eyes from disappearing completely after critics started dismissing him as an insignificant presence on the grid. He’s grown up since then. He’s put up walls too. And she wants to be proud of him for not letting the negativity drag him down, but the thing about walls is that they keep him safe, yes, however they also prevent people from getting close. She hates to think of Javi as lonely, not someone as sweet and considerate as him.

“Speaking of Oddball,” Barbara’s voice shakes her out of her head. She blinks back into focus, finding her friend holding out a torn piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. “This is her cell number. Vivian told me to make sure Javi had it.”

She takes the paper from her and stares down at it for a second before neatly stuffing it in her pocket, unsure whether to feel confused or offended Vivian didn’t reach out to her directly. Maybe the team principal wanted the two PR managers to meet up, aware of their history with each other. What’s done is done now, Gabriela supposes, shoving the mixed emotions aside as quickly as they sprung up.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure he gets it,” she tells Barbara. “You know, it really is great to see you again. I’ve missed having someone to gossip with over a drink.”

“Wine nights!” Barbara cheers, then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth when her voice echoes loudly off the walls.

They both burst into laughter not even a second later, so loud a couple of heads poke out of nearby offices to see what’s going on only to then shake in amusement at the pair.

And for the first time since Javi signed his contract with Vulpecula, the nervous knot in Gabriela’s stomach doesn’t seem so big anymore.

From: Unknown Number (7:15pm)

Hey Oddball it’s Javi! Gabriela gave me your number, hope you don’t mind!

To: Javi (7:18pm)

Not at all! Text me if you ever want any restaurant recs

From: Javi (7:19pm)

Only if you come along too :)

To: Javi (7:19pm) (unsent)

Really? You sure?

To: Javi (7:20pm) (unsent)

Ya! Sounds like fun!

To: Javi (7:21pm)

You drive a hard bargain curls…

To: Javi (7:22pm)

But I guess I could be persuaded. Wanna get lunch tomorrow?

From: Javi (7:24pm)

Tell me when and where, I’ll be there!

#javi gutierrez #javi g fanfiction #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x ofc #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x ofc #pedrostories #my fic #my writing

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skitskatdacat63 · 8 months

Note

OHMYGOOOOOODDD CATIE YOUR LITTLE DOODLE ART OF BOY KING LIL SEB ITS GORGUS!!!! CANT WAIT FOR THE MORE HEADCANONS PLEASE DRAW MORE ITS BEAUTIFUL!!!!<3333

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU ELLE!!!!!!! 💕💕💕💕 HE IS MY PRETTY BOY 🤭 THANK YOU FOR INDULGING MY NICHE AUs 💕

I would like to draw a lot more :D I think it's a lot of fun to look at historical eras and try to make parallels and connections!(either through my OCs or my F1 boys) But god, when I look at old paintings for ref, the level of detail in the clothing is a bit scary... but I still think it's very interesting to do research into it and design it :)

Bit of historical rambling:

I said in the tags that this AU could really only be Vettonso, and I will explain why. I mean obviously at first, I was only comparing that statue to Seb because uhhhh he looks like Seb!!! But I researched a bit more into that era and guess what's happening at this point: The Spanish War of Succession. Which was when the Spanish Throne was up for grabs, and the two main candidates were a Spanish Duke and an Austrian heir to the Holy Roman Empire. See where I'm going with this?

But the Spanish Duke ends up getting the throne, rightfully, but the Austrian ends up becoming the Holy Roman Emperor even though he wasn't first in line, so who really won in the end!

Lmao I think this AU would end up being: well, guess how we can reunite the Austrian and Spanish bloodlines again....arranged marriage plot!! Canon Divergence in both the matters of them being replaced with Vettonso and also with the war not happening

God help me, I read way too much about the Habsburgs, I blame my trip to Austria 🤧 My German prof, who is from there, always seems kinda proud of the history so I wonder what he'd think if he knew I was looking into it this much....and bastardizing it

#i get way too into the historical research #like making a red string board about how this f1 driver = this historical figure #this one is moreso i guess just about the whole thing btwn the spanish kingdom and the austrian empire #like yeah i have specific historical figures in mind about who would be who in the context of it #but yeah more about the general political situation and climate of the time i guess #so now i have 3 random AUs. i think I mostly make them bcs i like to research history soooo much +#and its a lot more fun to try and implement that knowledge rather than it living in my head for no reason #i still think the nandopoleon one is the best(which ive not really posted about here)#that one to me like weirdly lines up way too well #but anyways hehehe boy king sebby!!!!! love him!!!#the guy whos in that statue(Joseph I) is lowkey so irrelevant like in the greater historical context #hes still an important figure but i guess i would describe him as a plot device #so yknow seeing that statuette i more think of seb and how it reminds me of him :D #thank you for the ask elle!!!!!#as i said im glad people are interested 😭 cause even to me these AUs are all really out of the blue #catie.rambling.txt #catie.asks.#boy king au

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loonysama · 1 year

Text

2022 Master Fanfic List

2022 Master Fic List

@loonysama | @annas-hair-donut | @pigail-braids | @loonysamaa (FFN)

This has been a great year for writing!!! I've published 29 fics (though some are still WIPs) at 338,496 words this year! And I've written in several new fandoms, which I never thought I'd be able to do. But anyway, here's the master list!

Frozen (@annas-hair-donut)

All Tied Up - Kristanna in Law Firm/BDSM AU (E)

Baby One More Time - Kristanna in High School AU (E)

Future's So Bright - Kristanna in Divorce AU (T)

Ginger Sweet Love - Kristanna in Halloween/Friendsgiving/Second Chances AU (M)

Kisses in the Pantry, Fingers in the Fridge - Elsamaren in Coffee Shop AU (E)

Let the Wind Carry You Away - Kristanna in 1960s AU (E)

Overheard - Kristanna in Roommates AU (M)

Safe - Kristanna in Detective Noir AU (E)

Santa's Cookies - Kristanna in Modern Fantasy AU (T)

Sophisticated Grace- Kristanna & Elsamaren in Music AU (E)

The Grandfather Clock - Kristanna om Haunted House AU (T)

The Ice King - Helsa in Post F1 Canon Divergent AU (E)

The Jakku Lantern - Kristanna & background Svolaf in Pumpkin Carving Contest AU (E)

The Magenta Cravat - Helsa in Addams Family Fusion AU (M)

The Refugees - Kristanna & background RapsxEugene in Genocide/Soul Mates AU ️(M)

The U-Turn - Kristanna in Uber AU (E)

You're the Boss - Kristanna in Law Firm AU (T)

Wednesday (@pigtail-braids)

Cat Scratch Fever - Wyler in Canon Divergent (Wednesday Wears Her Catsuit) (E)

Corsage Optional - Wyler in s01e04 Canon Compliant (Mostly) (E)

Sweet Poison - Wyler in Canon Divergent (Mistletoe) AU (E)

Woe is Me - Wyler in Canon Divergent AU (E)

Woe is Your Master - Wyler in s01e08 Canon Divergent AU (E)

Other Fandoms

1,000 Rabinous Raccoons - Abigail/Donovan (Good Witch) in Canon Divergent AU (E)

A Grave Injury - Lydia Deetz/Male OC (Beetlejuice) in 5 years later Canon Divergent AU (T)

Don't Say It - Elizabeth/Philip Jennings (The Americans) in Canon Divergent AU (E)

Free the Birds - Mary Poppins/Bird Woman in Pre-Canon/Victorian AU (M)

Heart Taker - Snow White/Hunter in High School (Valentine's Day) AU (T)

The Locket - Brandy/the Man that Brandy loved in Fantasy AU (T)

Two Ghosts - Laszlo/Nadja (WWDitS) in s02e11 Canon Divergent AU (E)

#fanfic #master fic list #frozen #frozen fanfic #wednesday #wednesday fanfic #kristanna #elsamaren #helsa #wyler #weyler #beetlejuice #wwdits #mary poppins #snow white #snow white/huntsman

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thetwelfthcrow · 2 months

Note

Omg cool because I have been holding off on this, what do your instincts say about a 4433 Avatar AU (full AU) or something to do with elements ("Canon" divergence, so still F1) 🧐🧐

VERY HOTTT

i looove the idea of firebender lewis (hot hot hot) but i think he's more of an air/water guy. and then max as fire. but then again, switching that around would be sooo interesting too. ugh !! so many options !! i'm literally game for anything. find it so so hot either way. i DO THINK they should be either each other's opposite element OR the exact same. gotta incorporate the enemyism into it. i'll think ab this some more !!!

and GOD canon divergence/magical realism with f1 them is soooo good too. i'm too tired to search for it now but i had this half thought a while back where max n lewis had Something with an element and that touching each other hurt (so lewis water-something and max fire-something and their touches hurt bc they're opposites) and that despite that they'd still try and make Them work - god, it'd be so poetic. so tragic! i love it. i'll also think ab this some more !! swirl these in my head like food in a microwave.

tell me your thoughts !!!!

#zhalia's lil' answer chat #Anonymous #4433

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amnenome · 1 year

Text

My fav fics

masterlist, a bunch of random shit. you can probably psychoanalyze me based on this.

Bridgerton

All’s Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You) - aRegularJo. Kathony, modern AU, modern royalty.

most eligible - first glances (amalin). Kathony, The Bachelor AU.

Primogeniture - 55anon (Anon). Series. Kathony, canon-compliant. Canon-expansive(?). Character studies, parentification.

hunt you, unmake you - SarahRoseSerena. Kathony vs. colonialism.

Stranger Things

Off to the Races - CrisSasegov. Ronance, f1 AU, enemies to lovers.

Which Way Up? - wornoutplaces. Ronance, canon divergence, Nancy is trapped in the upside down.

Grishaverse

In Another Life - anon56. Zoyalai, canon divergence. AU - their parent actually cares about them.

burned but not buried this time - lazy_universes. Zoya & Alina bond over Darkling trauma.

Killing Me to Love You - venus_in_retrograde. Inej/Kaz Hanahaki AU.

Like Calls to Like (A Grishaverse AU Textfic) - the_loosest_moose. Anything by them is great.

Wheel of Time

The Path of Fire and Foxes - LarraineLynch. Siuaraine, time travel AU.

kept impulse dormant - QuickYoke. Siuan/Moiraine, canon-compliant, childhood friends.

Moiraine is Jane - EvadneGrand. Moiraine Damodred and Jane Bennet switch places.

Percy Jackson

Roman Holiday - BobInTheComments. Bamf Reyna x Celtic mythology. Adventure.

Every Breath You Take, I’ll Be Watching You (strictly in my position as your babysitter, Morgan, now go wash the grease off your hands) - randomest_username. Bamf Annabeth x the MCU. Annabeth is Morgan Stark's babysitter.

Road to the White House - plalligator. Samirah al-Abbas runs for president of the United States.

Felix Culpa - advictorem. Theyna, Thalia is switched AU, camp swap, trans!Thalia.

Hope Is A Delicate Thing - BandKid247, oh__peachy. PJO reading the books fic, almost through the whole series.

Reading Blood of Olympus - anenomenome. Reading the books fic.

Game of Thrones

darkly, darkly, dawn glittered in the sky - cheshire_carroll. Bamf Sansa Stark x Harry Potter marauder's era.

The Gilded Wolf - Mikasaessucasaa. Jonsa. Canon divergence - Sansa was raised by the Lannisters. Politics.

Harry Potter

shadow magnolia - pansexual_intellectual. Ginny/Fleur. Ginny goes to Beauxbatons and deals with her trauma.

A Crinkle of Fate - AFaith1192. Remadora, Tonks time travel fix-it.

The Weight of the After - Paperyink. Ginny-centric, Dumbledore's army. Hogwarts book 7 x Nuremberg trial.

MCU

it’s such a shame for us to part (take me back to the start) - whitetiger1249. Sersi-centric time-travel fix-it.

Natasha, Daughter of Ivan - AzureLightningEmeraldCloud. Natasha/Carol, Natasha lives AU.

Higher Further Faster - CapturetheFinnick. Carol/Maria backstory in the Air Force.

P.S. 35, Hell's Kitchen - martial-quill (quilling_me_softly), quilling_me_softly. Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones, Foggy Nelson, and Patricia Walker grow up together.

runaways are running the night - anothercover. Clintasha, Rock Star AU. Natasha, Nakia, Okoye, Jessica Jones, and Valkyrie are in a band, Clint is John Mulaney.

all it takes is a little water - independentalto. YoYoMack, summer camp AU, soulmates AU.

show me why you're strong - fr0ntier. Buckynat in Wakanda.

Look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide - MomoYoMaki. Bucky defects and raises the Widows in a cottage in Canada.

Somewhere Normal - lilyinblue. Bobbi Morse goes home and tells her family she's a secret agent.

the world turns upside down - Clintasha, Star Wars AU. Clint and Natasha join the resistance.

I'll build a house inside of you - magdaliny. Bucky defects and raises little kid Natasha.

How to Transform Your Life Through Reality TV - igrockspock. Natasha competes on a cooking show.

The Girl in the Photograph - ashen_key. Natasha's long-lost cousin writes a book.

aliens and assassins - anenomenome. Natasha doesn't die, and ends up in Star Wars instead.

Supergirl

Back to the Basket - performativezippers. Sanvers basketball AU.

Last Car - Roadie. Sanvers public transportation AU.

yearning to breathe free - softsawyer, TheseTornadoesAreForYou. Sanvers, celebrity AU, fake dating, enemies to friends to lovers

Other

Run at the Cup - TheHomelyBadger. Arcane. Caitvi, hockey AU, enemies to lovers.

Impulse Decisions - Mirradin. The Old Guard. AU - canon divergence. The group is captured by Merrick. Five years later, Dizzy Ali takes a job.

now that i found you: a queer eye x brooklyn 99 crossover - chipsghost. B99. Jake Peralta gets queer-eyed.

show a little loving, shine a little light on me - ev0lution. Star Wars Rogue One. Cassian/Jyn, The Good Place AU.

Bittersweet - inkedstarlight. ACOTAR, Nessian. College AU.

American Pie - micster. We Are Lady Parts - amina/saira. Canon-extension(?). Lots of music references

A Favor - shaziskhalid. ACOTAR, Nessian. Modern AU, Nesta character study.

The Shephards - MiniM236. ADOW. Miriam-centric, Phoebe + Miriam + legacy.

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zojnks · 2 years

Text

anyway, don’t leave a stranger

Rating: T

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Word Count: 18.2k

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Light Angst, architect!charles, driver!max, charles is clueless and max is trying so very hard, Monaco Grand Prix, Getting Together

Summary:

Max and Charles have been friends for years, even after Charles left karting because of financial troubles. Lately, Charles has been struggling with finding his footing in their relationship as he sees Max drift farther from him. Winning races, making friends, smiling for the cameras: Max is doing it all on the grid, without Charles.

"'When I’m with you, I feel at home. I want to be home. I want that peace and quiet.'

Charles was glad the moonlight hid his blush.

'Oh, Max,' he said softly.

There was nothing else he could say."

au chic fest fic is now released out into the world! massive shoutout to @vegasgrandprix for organizing it, and to everyone in the @chicfest server for being so wonderful :) it’s been so fun writing this, and now i’m elated for everyone to read it! never in my life did i think i would have written 18k of f1 rpf, but here we are and i’m glad i did >:)

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #charles leclerc x max verstappen #lestappen #f1 fanfic #f1 #au chic fest #my stuff

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madam-wakefield · 5 months

Text

Open when...Chapter 5

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn't sure how she's going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn't expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn't a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn't all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta'd. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Chapter 5

Open when you have had a good day at work…

Bernie has been gone over a month before she really starts to feel somewhat used to not having her partner around. It isn’t easy, but it’s easier than it was when she first left. She and Jason have slowly fallen into a good routine, and this makes life easier for them both. Serena has also gained more confidence in Raf which means there are times when she lets him handle the red phone on his own, knowing he’ll call her in if she’s needed.

Today has been one such day: She’d been working alongside Raf when the car accident had been called through, two victims with almost identical injuries. There is no way they could have chosen which one of them to prioritise and they didn’t have to. They’d each taken their own second doctor and taken both patients into surgery at the same time. She and Raf had both encountered different complications in theatre, but the end result is the same for both patients. While recovery will take a while, they should both be fine.

That isn’t the only positive thing to come out of the day. The new F1s who have been driving her crazy for the past week finally seem to be getting used to how life at the AAU runs. They act professionally and sensibly but also aren’t scared to call on her for help. By the end of the day, she remembers exactly what she loves about her job and why she loves being clinical lead of AAU. Today has been one of those days when what she’s done at work has really made a difference.

At the end of her shift she decides that today is definitely a day for one of Bernie’s envelopes. It doesn’t take her long to find the right one: “Serena – Open when you’ve had a good day…”

Just as she’s collecting her bag and coat, Fletcher sticks his head round the office door to tell her they are all off to Albie’s for a drink. Normally she’d accompany them, but this evening she decides she wants to take her letter home and enjoy reading it before taking time to herself write to Bernie. She knows that while her day has been good, Bernie won’t be having the same kind of good days as she is, so she wants to share this with her in the hope it will at least help a little.

The house is quiet when she gets home, and she can’t say it isn’t welcome. Jason is on a late shift which means he likely won’t be home until she’s already in bed. She heats up some leftover curry that she’d saved for the evening and pours herself a glass of red wine before heading to the table, taking the envelope from Bernie carefully out of her bag.

She can’t help but smile at Bernie’s messy writing, it’s the epitome of a doctor’s handwriting. She takes the letter out of the envelope and lays it flat on the table so she can eat while she reads.

My Dearest Serena,

I’m so glad you have had a good day and I hope that reading this will help make it even better. It’s so nice to have a day at the mad house that either runs smoothly or that works out for the best despite the challenges thrown at you. I’m so thankful to have you (and Raf) looking after the trauma unit for me. Please write to me when you can to tell me about your wonderful day but until then, let me pamper you with some of my own words of affirmation.

I am truly lucky that I get to call you my girlfriend, because you’ve been everything to me these past few years. I value how you’ve always taken care of me, even when you’ve been tired. I love the way your eyes light up when you compliment me. The gentle tone you use when talking to me, the one that shows me that you truly cherish me. I know that this life we have created together is not a temporary thing but a permanent blossoming in our hearts.

That final thought makes every day I spend deployed just a little bit easier. Knowing that at home is someone who wants to nurture and flourish this relationship as much as I do. That trusts me enough to let me have this time, to find the closure I truly needed.

When I joined the army, I couldn’t openly be who I was. I would have lost everything. Yet here I am able to openly write that I am so thankful that I met you. Never in my dreams did I ever imagine that I would find anyone as wonderful as you. Here I am closing the army chapter in my life, openly gay and with the most amazing woman that I get to call my girlfriend.

I hope this letter has helped to make your day even more enjoyable than it already was.

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

By the time she finishes the letter her heart is so full of love for Bernie that she’s surprised it doesn’t burst open. She can’t say this is ever how she imagined her life would be like, since she had never even considered kissing a woman before meeting Bernie. But right here and right now, she knows she wouldn’t have life any other way.

She stands from the table, picking up her half empty glass of wine, and heads towards the living room, grabbing her laptop as she goes. She loads up the INtouch electronic mail service, happy now that she’s gotten adept enough to do it by herself. She takes a long swig of wine before beginning to type.

Dear Bernie,

You, my love, are just incredible. I’ve had a good day at work today and decided it was the perfect day to open the matching envelope. You are truly correct, it has made my day even more enjoyable than it already was.

I guess I’ll start at the beginning. I woke up having had a full nine hours sleep, I’m sure that’s the first time I’ve managed that since you’ve been gone. As Jason was on the late shift I didn’t want to wake him, so I decided to grab breakfast and coffee at Pulses, and my timing must have just been impeccable as the croissants were freshly baked just as I arrived, and smothered with a big helping of butter and black currant jam. They were just divine. (I’m hoping this isn’t making you too jealous. To help a little, I’ll send you a jar next time I send a care package over.)

My day just got better from there. All of the F1s who were on shift turned up on time, and not a single one of them was hungover. They acted professionally and were even able to do parts of their jobs without me having to hover over them. Let’s just say my paperwork mountain is slowly looking smaller.

Of course, the red phone didn’t behave all day, but I’m now at the point where I trusted Raf to take the first call with Jasmine. And I only jumped in on the second one because we had two patients with almost identical injuries that both needed operating on at the same time. Needless to say, both are doing well and will make a full recovery. (Don’t think that means I don’t want you back though – sharing an office with Raf isn’t as fun as sharing it with you.)

Then I got home, and I read your letter, and if I’m not the luckiest woman alive, I don’t know who is! How fortunate I am that, even from over three thousand miles away, you are looking after me. That you want me to be the best I can be every day. That you want to hear about all the things that are happening to me whilst you are gone. I think the only thing that would make this day better would be hearing your voice, because I do miss that. I know there isn’t as much I can do to make sure your day goes well but what I will do is attach some recent pictures to this letter.

All my love, darling

Stay safe, soldier.

Serena x

Just as she hits the send button, her phone starts buzzing. She looks down at it to realise her good day is about to become the best day.

“Hey, you,” she says gently, smiling so wide that it’s threatening to split her face in two.

“Hey, my love. Sorry I didn’t give you any notice before calling. I just felt like I needed to hear your voice today.” And Serena wants to say she understands but she doesn’t, not totally. Yes, she wants to hear Bernie’s voice, but she isn’t seeing what Bernie is seeing, isn’t going through what Bernie is.

“That’s okay, I’ve just finished writing you an e-bluey actually.” They both know they aren’t officially called that anymore, but it’s so much easier to call them that when referring to them.

“Thank you.” It’s said from under Bernie’s fringe. Serena’s fingers twitch with the urge to gently brush it out of her face but she can’t. “So how is everyone, everything?”

Serena can’t help but study every inch of Bernie’s grainy face as she replies. “Things are good, it’s starting to get cold here now, the weather is feeling much more autumnal than It was. The trees at the spot where we go walking have turned into the most magnificent shades of oranges and reds. Actually, I attached a picture with the bluey I just wrote you.”

“Oh, I imagine it’s beautiful, I’m glad you’re doing things for yourself while I’m gone,” Bernie says, smiling back at her. She misses seeing that smile in person, but she’ll take what she can get right now.

“As if you’d have it any other way.” The chuckle she gets out of Bernie at that is music to her ears. “Mrs. Higgs from next door has been back in hospital though she seems to me home and on the mend again now. She told me to pass on her regards next time we spoke.”

“She’s having a poor run of it, isn’t she?” Bernie questions back.

“She is, thank god for our brilliant NHS.” Bernie chuckles again at that and Serena would do anything to hear it all night, but she knows they don’t have that luxury.

“What about you?” Bernie questions. “What else have you been up to?”

Serena had been reserved about sharing this sort of thing during their first few conversations, feeling guilty for being able to talk about so much of the stuff she was doing when Bernie’s circumstances were so very different. But then Bernie had explained that she likes it, that it gives her a way of feeling closer to home.

“Fleur and I went out for brunch on Friday, we tried a new café in town, and trust me, I’m taking you once you’re home. You’ll just love the French toast they serve. I’ve got a hair appointment booked for Thursday, my next day off. The grey is starting to show a little too much. Then the day after, I’m off to watch Elinor in her show. What about you? How’s the downtime been?

“Good, we played volleyball together earlier, though I’m not sure my back is very thankful for that right now. Oh, and your care package arrived, the sweets lasted all of five minutes, though in my defence I did share them with the rest of the team. Oh, and sorry to be a pain, but the next time you send one I’m almost certainly going to need some more deodorant,” Bernie says before yawning. Serena watches the way the corner of her eyes crinkle.

“Never! You know you can always ask me for the things you need. But now I think you need to go and get some rest, love. Isn’t it almost midnight there?”

“It is, and you’re right, I probably do. I love you and miss you, remember that.”

“I love and miss you too, stay safe, soldier.”

And that night as she goes to sleep, Serena is the most content she's felt since Bernie went away.

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