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unsolvedjarin · 8 months

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THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY…

pairing: (fernando alonso x wolff! reader)

note: is my first ever work on this site smut? yes. do i happen to not know how to write smut? yes. is this my first time writing smut? yes. is this a bad idea? probably. but we move.

content warning: oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, verb tenses jumping like frogs in lakes

“And Fernando Alonso crosses the finish line in the Bahrain Grand Prix, ending up 4th! Not bad considering the Spaniards track record recently.” You hear the reporters comment, but it’s a distant noise. Fernando finally got out of the midfield fluke he and Aston Martin was having, and you couldn’t be more happy for your partner.

He, however, was even more enthusiastic than you. After smiling through the media pen, he rushes over to your motorhome where he knew you would be waiting for him. Meeting anywhere but your own places was too risky with the media being everywhere, and you weren’t ready to tell your dad just yet about Fernando. He completely understood of course, the age gap was something he knew your dad would take a long long while to warm up to.

He knocked 5 times on your door in a happy beat, before you answered it with a smile and letting him in wordlessly, noticing his good spirits. You were about to congratulate him on his good results, but the second you turnt around you felt his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

You indulge yourself in his taste for a second before, “Fernando we couldn’t possibly—”

He kisses your words away before you finish your sentence, one of his hands moving to your cheek and another still on your waist. Having sex in your Mercedes motorhome would not be an easy thing to achieve, but by god will Fernando achieve it.

He was kissing down your neck before you could protest again, his left hand moving from your waist down to the inside of your pants, fingers hovering just over your panties. Your back was to the wall of the motorhome, and you swear if he pushed you a little bit more the whole place would come tumbling over.

The feeling of his fingers ghosting over your pussy was enough to knock all your senses out of you, however, and you kissed him back fervently as he suddenly pushed his digits into you, making you stifle your moan into his neck.

“Nando we really shouldn’t, my dad— ah— will come in any minute now— fuck right there— shouting profanities at no one in particular because Lewis and George double dnf’ed. You know we’re— oh my fucking god— gonna get caught.”

He suddenly takes his fingers out of you and you groan in displeasure.

“If you’re so worried about getting caught, why don’t we just stop?” He whispers in your ear with a teasing tone. The bastard.

“Asshole,” You reply, kissing him again and pushing him backwards until he’s sat on your couch. Proceeding to straddle him, you take your hand to his racing suit, gliding your fingers delicately from his chest all the way down to his cock, feeling the bulge so evident in his pants. “Or maybe,” you ponder, “we do stop, and your little guy doesn’t get any attention.”

“Please don’t call my dick little guy, mi amor,” he replies jokingly before pulling your Mercedes shirt up, kissing your chest while you grind down on him. “Always so pretty for me. I need more.”

In a second, he flips you over like you weighed nothing and laid you down on the couch, tugging your pants off of you as slowly as he could.

“Nando I swear to god, you better stop fucking teasing me,” you tell him, impatient. He chuckles before leaning back up to kiss you, then slowly making his way down your chest, taking your bra off effortlessly before moving down again to actually take off your pants, leaving you with nothing but your panties on.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that I’m the only one naked here?” You ask him, but with no accusation— he looked sexy in his black fireproofs. He kisses your inner thigh, a sight that would’ve brought any woman to their knees, before replying, “Relax, amor. I want to take care of you first, spread your legs wider.”

You follow his instructions with a hazy mind, not in the mood for any foreplay. Fernando takes your panties off slowly, kissing your leg as it goes along. He’s taking his time, he knows it’s making you want him even more.

“Look how wet you are for me, corazón,” he murmurs, pressing a swift teasing kiss on your clit. The action was enough for you to buck your hips lightly onto his nose, before he takes the bait and fully puts his mouth on your pussy, and begins to eat you out.

He moves like a man starved, holding onto your waist to take you even deeper in his mouth as if he wasn’t already. You try to stifle your moans with your hand to no avail, putting the other one in Fernando’s hair and pulling on it, eliciting a deep groan from him that vibrated up your pussy.

“Just like that— god baby you’re so good— more,” you whine, grinding on his face. He moves his tongue around your folds, making sure his nose bumps your clit every so often to hear you moan even louder.

You throw more endless praises in his direction, “Oh my god, I can’t— you’re so fucking good— I’m gonna cum soon baby,” you moan out, unable to control your volume any longer. Passerbys outside be damned. You feel him speed up at your words, focusing on your clit and inserting two fingers into you to help, making you whine even more.

“I fucking love you Nando, I’m so close—” you mumble, gripping his hair even tighter.

“I love you more corazón, being so good for me,” he murmurs near your folds, the vibration making you moan again. He attaches his mouth back on your clit, and the feeling of his beard is starting to burn but you don’t care, it makes you want him even more.

He knows you’re close, he can feel your walls get tighter on his two fingers and that only makes him add another one in, making you practically mewl at the feeling.

Joined with his tongue circling your clit, the coil in your stomach uncurled and you felt your orgasm release, moaning into your hand that did nothing to hide your volume. You try to close your legs but Fernando keeps them in place, eating out your high with a satisfied look in his eyes.

He climbs up your body, kissing you on the way back like he did before, on your inner thigh, your torso, your chest, and then your mouth, tasting yourself on him.

“That was— fuck, Fernando. That was worth any trouble I’d ever get into,” you say breathlessly. He looked so pretty like this, hid away from the world, just wanting to be yours.

He gave you a light kiss on the nose before replying, “Told you so. You just need to trust me.”

“I do trust you, just not very much in the ‘sex somewhere my dad can find us’ part,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him and a long kiss. “I love you, you know that right?”

He kisses your cheek before settling his body on top of your bare one and replying, “I know. Of course I do, because I love you more.”

“Okay, competitive,” you mumble sarcastically. Before you could help him with his predicament, however, a loud knock startled the both of you.

“Y/N, are you in there?” A deep Austrian accent asks, muffled through the door.

Oh shit. It’s your dad.

You quickly attempt to put on your clothes, ushering Fernando wildly to move to the other couch. There was no other exit in the motorhome, which had you scouring your brain thinking of an explanation for this random Aston Martin driver in a Mercedes motorhome.

“Uh— just a second dad!” You shout, and Fernando could hear how frantic your tone was. Finally managing to put your pants on the right way, you open the door and lean on the doorway inconspicuously. “Hey! What's up?”

Toto Wolff, Mercedes team principal and scariest father in the world when it came to someone you were dating, took a peek over your shoulder— not so hard with his height— and saw Fernando sitting on the couch he just ate you out on, ‘reading’ a book with his legs crossed to cover his hard on.

Fernando looks up and nods at Toto, not wanting to say anything that’ll damn him. Toto nods back, but is still suspicious as to why a Formula 1 driver other than his own ones were in your motorhome.

He was used to Lewis or Mick there, sure, but this was just…odd, to him. “What’s Alonso doing in there?”

You look at Fernando then back to your dad, acting as innocent as you possibly could. “Oh him? He just wanted to escape from the press a bit. He was gonna stay in Aston Martin’s paddock but he wants to get away from them too at the moment, I’m sure you understand.”

“And he…chose your motorhome to stay in?”

“Well you know I can’t help but help people!” You replied awkwardly. The silence stretches out for so long that you just wait for the ground to swallow you up, before Toto shrugged and finally said, “Just came by to tell you that our dinner with Lewis, George, and Mick will be at 7pm instead of 6pm. Our debrief might take longer because of the double dnf.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll be there, I think Lewis is picking me up.” Toto seemed content with that answer and nodded at this, kissing your cheek and telling you to stay safe before walking away from your motorhome.

You sigh a breath of relief, glad that he didn’t ask any more questions about Fernando, although you doubt that’d be the last time they would see each other.

“So you’re going out to dinner with Hamilton tonight?” Fernando asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. His legs were still crossed one over the other to cover his hard on, and his hands were clasped together in the middle. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he looked like someone who was interviewing you.

Smirking at that thought, you reply, “Me and my dad are having dinner with the drivers, not just Lewis. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Fernando shakes his head, but you know him better than that. He uncrosses his legs before patting his thigh, “Close the door. Let me show you how much fun you can have before that dinner.”

Following his instructions once again, you close the door before straddling him with a grin, about to continue where you two had left off earlier.

Unbeknownst to both of you, however, an oblivious Toto Wolff had accidentally dropped his favorite pen from his pocket just at the door of your motorhome. And he was about to come back and retrieve it.

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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Could you do oneshot for Checo with wife pregnant!reader? She accompanied him to the race and he had a crash during Monaco GP 2023 and she's afraid that he will never get to see their child and everyone in the garage tried to calm her down. But he's fine. And she just grateful that he's still alive. I don't know if it make sense. Add something you'd like though. Tag me later!! Thanks!!

Monaco: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - Sergio Perez x PregnantWife! Reader

Plot: Sergio Perez gets into a nasty crash in Monaco, where his wife attends to support despite being uncomfortably pregnant. However, with the rainy weather conditions Monaco GP is looking more dangerous than ever!

A/N: this is a little shorter as I struggle to right for Sergio more than others!

Credit to adisillusionedauthor for the GIF

This year, you hadn’t really been to many races as you’d got pregnant during the winter break. You’d spent Christmas avoiding people asking why you weren’t drinking before letting everyone know after the first doctors appointment you had.

By the time the Monaco Grand Prix rolled around you were coming up to around 7months of your pregnancy and boy could you tell.

However, because of what Monaco was Sergio had asked you to come considering that’s where you both resided now that he was in Red Bull.

You agreed to come as long as the days weren’t too strenuous on you, and that you always had a seat available as it was hard carrying another human inside of you.

When you arrived at the garage you’d never had so many compliments from well pretty much everyone. Everyone in Alpine had congratulated you, as it was Sergios old team and there were people there that still held a lot of love for the both of you.

When you came to Red Bull Max and Kelly couldn’t help but praise your looks and how you were glowing. And it went on like that for most of the day, people complimented how you looked and it made you feel better about any insecurities you held.

The only thing making you anxious now was the race itself.

You of course loved to support Sergio in what he did but you couldn’t deny that your husband driving round tricky tracks at over 200mph scared the living daylights out of you.

And Monaco, we’ll it was one of the worst. It’s the tightest street circuit ever, and you have to be very precise when it comes to overtaking and gaining places.

Through the whole weekend it had stayed relatively nice, when it came to the weather and the vibes. Everyone was cheerful and excited about the race at one of the most iconic tracks in motorsport. After some great times tested in all the free practices and getting into Q3 in Qually, Sergio was in P8 having locked up on his flying lap.

You were currently in the garage sat watching the race with the mechanics next to you.

“It’s going to be hard for them to get ahead of both the Ferraris and the McLaren” you say to the mechanic next to you. Seeing Charles in Pole, Lando in P2 and and Carlos in P3, Max in P4 and Sergio behind 2 Mercedes, and an Aston Martin.

You watch the lights turn off once all five had lit up, and listen to Cofty commentating. You watch as Charles manages to keep the lead, Lando falling in nicely behind him while Carlos managed to defend from Max quiet nicely.

Sergio had an amazing start, meaning that he moved up past George in the Mercedes, sitting comfortably in P7. Over the radio all the drivers were let known it was going to start raining within the next 3 laps, most of the drivers pitted.

Max pit for Red Bull first while Sergio stayed out moving up to P2 with Lewis now in the lead. Ferrari having made a double Pit stop worried about their drivers with the oncoming rain.

The rain started to come down heavily, you watched on from your husbands car camera seeing how low the visibility was.

You saw his mechanics preparing to have him come in and change to intermediates. You watch on seeing him struggling for grip until he slides forward having something jolt him from behind.

His car, flips as the Aston that bumped his rear also lost grip forcing itself around his car. They are both sent into the barriers both cars getting a massive shunt.

There’s debris everywhere and his car is no-longer race worthy.

Your mind goes haywire and your hand reaches up to your mouth to cover it as it opens in shock. Tears built in your eyes as you watch no movement from both cars.

“Oh my god!” You breathe, one hand still covering your mouth the other resting on your stomach.

What if this was it? You questioned to yourself.

Would your husband never be able to meet his child? You wondered watching as the medic car is released and sent to go help Sergio and Lance.

Some of the social media girls in the garage come up to you, holding a hand out to you to grip in shock. One of them is whispering that he’ll be okay but you are only listening to Crofty and his soft commentating about the incident.

Mechanics soon come up to you realising what has happened trying to block your view and make you take a seat as they can see you are getting breathless.

Red Bull was like one big family, they’d know you since before Sergio had joined as you were good childhood friends with Kelly, so they all felt a high level of protectiveness over you.

You were the sweetest person in the Red Bull family, always bringing them health boxes, full of delicious yet healthy snacks, and then on Sundays coming by with post race goodies that they could class as part of their cheat day, and you were always willing to listen to each and every one of them.

“No no no” you cry more tears spilling as neither driver continues to communicate or make movements.

Some more of the mechanics rushed over to you, pulling you away from the cameras and the screen. Kelly follows holding your hand in a comforting manor. They sit you down in Sergio’s drivers room. The TV in there is on and playing the crash and Kelly goes to turn it off but you stop her before you can.

“No I have to know!” You say watching on as you see the red flag given, all the drivers coming into the pits.

Lance manages to pull himself out and is able to communicate back to the Aston Martin team who all cheer as he is presumed okay, where he pulled himself out and is walking.

He walks straight over to Sergio, there’s some kind of communication which makes you sigh in relief that your husband is able to talk. Nods of heads show that they’ve agreed on something and Lance helps as Sergio pulls himself up on out the car.

You sigh in relief seeing that he was able to get himself out the bashed up car wreck. He wobbled around before collapsing to the ground which only had your heart rate spiking even more.

Lance called the medics over, pointing for Sergio to be helped into the van first. A stretcher was brought out from the back. More tears falls from your eyes, however your husband knew what you’d be looking like right now.

And frankly he’d never liked seeing you cry.

So he pulled himself up, and walked towards the medical van despite what the Marshalls were telling him.

He explained to them he wanted to show his wife and team he was doing okay. Lance clambers in the back after him and they are driven round the last bit of the track to where he would be taken to medical tent for evaluation.

A knock on your door sounds and in walks Christian Horner himself. You smile lightly at him but the tears only come out a little more as he looks between you and the TV.

“He’s going to be okay Y/N” he promises and you nod.

The wait for him to come back and be cleared by the medics was painful, you waited for so long it felt like hours but in reality it was only 30 minutes. There was no damage in the crash, only a mild concussion that would be okay within a few days of rest.

“Hello mi Carina” he smiled sheepishly at you.

“You had me so worried!” You cry as you pull him into a hug, he hugs you kissing all over your face before bending down to the height of your round belly.

“Im so sorry, to the both of you! I can’t imagine the stress I just put you both through!” He offers kissing your clothed stomach and rubbing it lovingly.

“I was so so scared that you’d never get to…” you stutter and choke on your words finding it hard to admit what was so worrying to you, what you’d feared for a long time now.

“Id never leave you both” he smiles standing back up to his full height and pulling you into a chaste kiss that you melt into.

“I love you so much” you sigh sinking into his hold strong hold .

“I love you too, I’ll never put you through what I did today again!” He promises holding into you tightly.

He wouldn’t admit it, but today really was a change of perspective of racing for him.

He’d never been that apprehensive getting into a car and driving it as quickly as he did, but he knew he would have a new found patience and carefulness driving the car after todays events as he too had been fearful he wouldn’t make it back to his two best girls.

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #sergio perez x you #sergio perez imagine #sergio perez x reader #sergio checo pérez #sergio perez #sp11 x reader #sp11

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herohimbowhore · 4 months

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Daniel Ricciardo: Castles Crumbling

Revisionism and recency bias are perhaps two of the most common things that you'll see in Formula 1 and discussions of how we view drivers. It all goes back to the saying "You're only as good as your last race." This, while true in some sense, is only part of the picture when it comes to a driver and the legacy they'll leave in the sport. One race does not define a driver, just as a small portion of a driver's career does not define the driver.

But in commentary and fan discussions, we continue to see that revisionism and recency bias continue to define driver's careers on everchanging standards.

This season, the argument would be that that Carlos Sainz is a better driver than Charles Leclerc due to any of the following reasons:

He's won a race this year

Ahead in the points

Consistently finishing races in the points

But looking at their careers as a whole, the argument falls apart.

Another case of this is Lewis Hamilton in 2022. He finished behind his teammate in the points, didn't win a race, etc. And that year alone had people questioning if Lewis Hamilton was washed or if he should retire. But again, looking at the career as a whole and not zeroing in on one piece of it, makes the argument fall apart.

A driver's legacy isn't based solely on a piece of their career. Alex Albon's career isn't going to be defined just by the Red Bull years, nor is Pierre Gasly's. Sebastian Vettel's career isn't just defined by his time in Ferrari or Red Bull or Aston Martin. Nor is Carlos Sainz's career going to be defined by his time in one team.

However, when it comes to Daniel Ricciardo, the revisionism and hate is strong. Especially in fan spaces like Twitter.

The two years at McLaren are by many considered to be a definer of Daniel's career, completely ignoring or disregarding what he was able to do in Red Bull and Renault.

In one instance he's a PR merchant, in another he can't draw a crowd.

He gets the car to Q3, qualifies 4th, and spends the whole weekend in 10th -> well then people will say it's the car.

Both he and his teammate don't make it out of Q1 with about .006 separating them -> well then obviously the driver and not the car on that specific track

Castles Crumbling is a song that inherently fits the change in the narrative around Daniel. The premise of Castles Crumbling is your legacy falling apart and no longer being loved by people who were once fans. This is a defining feature of Daniel Ricciardo's public perception in recent years as everything he does is defined by the McLaren stint.

Once, I had an empire in a golden age

I was held up so high, I used to be great

They used to cheer when they saw my face

Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty

Crowds would hang on my words, and they trusted me

Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far

I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart

Despite what people perpetuate now, coming into McLaren, Daniel was highly regarded and considered a great driver. He was THAT guy.

Netflix's Drive to Survive did a lot in helping Daniel transcend from the normal bounds of an F1 driver. He was the first one to be fully on board and give them so much access to him, his thoughts, and his life. A move that wasn't reciprocated by other drivers, so in that first season, it was all about him from start to end basically. He also had the personality to match.

But even before that, Daniel has been the the guy. Just look at any number of grown men that have taken his sweaty race boots and drunk champagne out of them.

Gerard Butler (USA 2016)

Christian Horner (Malaysia 2016)

Max Verstappen (Malaysia 2016)

Nico Rosberg (Malaysia 2016)

Mark Webber (Germany 2016)

Lance Stroll (Baku 2017)

Sir Patrick Stewart (Canada 2017)

Martin Brundle (Austria 2017)

Adrian Newey (Monaco 2018)

Lewis Hamilton (Imola 2020)

Zak Brown (Monza 2021)

Lando Norris (Monza 2021)

Any number of Red Bull staff over the years

People all around the paddock

Some happily, some with pure disgust, others taking the shoes right off Daniel's feet for a shoey.

Daniel at Silverstone in 2017: "DC took my shoes off and then in Austria, Martin was frothing for it."

Daniel wasn't just his personality as so many would like to say. The racing was there.

In 2014, Daniel came into Red Bull and beat his four-time world champion teammate. He was Red Bull's only race winner that year with three wins. During his first year with Red Bull, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes.

Once more in 2016, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes. His only win of the year was Malaysia 2016 and with it came the iconic podium of Daniel, Max, Nico, and Christian all taking turns to drink out of the same race shoe.

Nico Rosberg in 2023, talked about his time racing against Daniel in 2016 and said:

"He's such an awesome personality, one of the best wheel-to-wheel racers out there. If I saw in my rear-view mirrors, [Ricciardo] was one of the last guys I would like to see there at the time, with Max Verstappen."

2018 for Daniel was filled with reliability issues and engine problems. Out of the 21 races that year, Daniel retired in 8 of them. He had two wins that year - China and Monaco.

Going into Renault, Formula 1 World Champion and Renault Advisor, Alain Prost, called Daniel worth every penny that the Renault would be paying him

"Daniel is more expensive than other drivers. When you need that to help the team we did it. Money is not a problem but it has to be justified. We have two top drivers, maybe one of the best lineups in F1 today."

With Renault, people forget that 2020 was one of his best years. While he didn't win any races, Daniel did have two podiums. He gave Renault their first podium in about nine years. Additionally, Daniel finished 5th in the championship, higher than anyone would have expected out of the unreliable Renault. He was doing wonders with that car.

Going into McLaren, Daniel was a highly valued asset. And while many like to say he went to McLaren for the money, salary estimates show that going to McLaren was actually a significant pay cut.

With an approximately $22 million pay cut in cash earnings, the move to McLaren cannot be defined as a cash grab. Doing something for the money doesn't usually mean lowering your value by millions.

My foes and friends watch my reign end

I don't know how it could've ended this way

Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor

People look at me like I'm a monster

Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name

Now they're screaming that they hate me

Never wanted you to hate me

So how did we get from being a highly valued driver to endless public hate by fans?

Well revisionism and recency bias.

Daniel’s time with McLaren was admittedly very bad.

(sidenote: Dropping Daniel was the best thing that McLaren could have done for all parties involved. No one can deny that, but how McLaren and Zak Brown conducted themselves was wrong. Say what you will about Red Bull's ruthlessness; Red Bull is upfront about it, and they don't drag the driver around making apologies or videos promising to try harder and signing another driver while doing all that.)

The car and driver did not mesh. But what most people tend to ignore is that the car design was inherently difficult to drive. It was unpredictable. One could argue that Lando was performing well in the car., but Lando has only driven a McLaren. Whereas Daniel's driven an HRT, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, and a Renault. Instead of helping Daniel with the learning curve or setting the car up in a manner that aligned with his driving style, Daniel had to change how he drove.

With all the McLaren struggles, people have chosen to focus on just that phase. Completely ignoring that Daniel was doing wonders with the Red Bull when the car wasn't great and he was doing wonders with the Renault.

Daniel's time post-Red Bull was not all bad and certainly not deserving of the vitriol and hate he receives when there are other drivers who have much less to show for on the grid.

He got two podiums with Renault in 2020 -- the first podiums that Renault had gotten in years. He was 5th in the standings.

And let's not forget that Daniel got McLaren its only win since 2012. Maybe you can say that the only reason Daniel won is due to the Max and Lewis crash or that Lando was told to stay behind. However, Daniel overtook Max at the start while Lando lost a position to Lewis. Daniel had been the one to take his shot when it mattered. As for the team orders to hold position, well Daniel could have gone faster if he wanted to as we can see with him pulling out the fastest lap on the final lap.

(A random thought that came to me during the research for this: do we think Christian Horner wants a Daniel-related tattoo as well and hates that Cyril and Zak have Daniel-related tattoos? Because if I was in Christian's position, I would want that tattoo. Like you put all this time and investment into a driver and then two other team principals that either took him away from you or couldn't get the most out of him have tattoos chosen by Daniel.)

#formula 1 #f1 through music #daniel ricciardo #red bull racing #renault #mclaren #f1

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internetgremlin-writes · 2 years

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Flat Spin

Summary/Prompt: Flat Spin

1. A spin in which an aircraft descends in tight circles whilst remaining almost horizontal

2. A state of agitation or panic [informal]

As the only female driver on the grid, you're fighting a constant need to prove yourself, however sometimes the line between accepting help and hand-outs is more blurred than you think

Word Count: 8,060

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Female Reader

Warnings: Description of a racing crash, mentions of vomit, angst-ish, fluffy ending! It's a long one kids but stick with it

You were flying.

Every time you got in that car you felt as if you were flying, the swooping sensation in your stomach and the rush in your ears carrying you as adrenaline pumped through your bloodstream.

You adored racing, and despite not being from any sort of motorsporting family, you could have sworn it was in your blood. You never felt as good as you did behind the wheel, going over 200 miles per hour and hurtling into turns. It was two hours of pure adrenaline and nothing could beat that rush.

Like every other driver, you had been karting since you were a child, climbing through the ranks and finally earning your spot as a Formula One driver. It was your third year now, old enough to no longer be considered a rookie, but new enough that you were still frequently referred to as the 'new kid', despite being older than both Yuki Tusunoda and Lando Norris. But for you, it was a little different.

Because you were unfortunate enough to have been born a girl.

Your career from an early age had been followed by significant media attention, especially once you became the highest-ranking female driver and even that was nothing compared to the media storm you caused when it was announced you had signed to an F1 team. Aston Martin was nearly denounced by fans for taking you on, however, after finishing your rookie season in a respectable P9, they quickly shut up.

This year would be different still. You'd had a flying start, and without really noticing it you had found yourself fighting in the top five, and suddenly the words 'Championship contender' were following you around. That week you were at Imola, a fine enough track in Italy but by no means your favourite. Qualifying had been tough, and you ended up in P8 on the grid, but you were quickly making progress.

Time seemed to move differently when you raced because you'd already done 3/4 of the laps in what felt like just a few minutes and managed to claw your way up to P3 in a difficult and wet dog fight that had you nearly spin out twice.

"Y/N, radio check," your strategist's voice crackled into your earpiece. Feeling good about your current position you decided to entertain the crowd a little and sing a few lines from what had become your signature song as an F1 driver.

"She's a maneater, make you work hard, make you spend hard, make you want all of her lo-o-ove," You sent back. Being the only female driver on the grid had earnt you the playful title of 'Maneater', for your rather vicious overtakes on some very impressive corners to gain places and shave seconds. You heard your strategist laugh down the radio for a second, and then he was back to business.

"You're pretty close to Sainz now in P2. I want you to get on his tail, then we're gonna pull a signature Maneater overtake on turn 7, okay?"

The plan made sense, except your mental map of the course made you falter. Turn 7 was a particularly nasty hairpin and in the wet weather, it would take all of your strength just to keep the car in tight and not lose time drifting wide.

"You sure it's safe when it's so wet?"

"Sainz has already pitted and his lap time is just above yours on wet tires. The only way to overtake him is through the bend, he's not as strong on turns as you are,"

"Gotcha," you signed off and turned all your focus onto catching the tail of the red Ferrari that had been coming in and out of your sight for a few laps.

Stepping on the gas and feeling the car leap forward into your hands made you grin like a maniac behind your helmet, and you took a quick sip of your drink before beginning your hunt.

By the end of the lap, you were virtually sitting on Carlos' rear wing. You felt a bit bad because Sainz had become one of your closer friends on the grid, but there was no time for friends in the actual race, and you'd buy him a drink after as had become the overtake custom between you and a handful of drivers. The rain was starting to drive and the track was no longer damp but properly soaked. You could feel the spray from the car in front pelting you.

"Guys I don't know about this overtake," you admitted into the radio as you had to rapidly correct a slide into turn 5.

"Y/N, I promise you he'll go wide to protect himself and you'll have the perfect opening. If you want the championship we need you to step up the aggression and chase the title," You were not happy with your strategist for pushing you in the conditions, but you knew at the end of the day that if you wanted to keep a lead driver position with the team and be within a fighting chance for championship then they were right.

As predicted, on the approach to turn 7 Carlos' car drifted wide and you tucked yourself even closer, coming up on his inside as you rammed the car into the curb with all your might and pulled through the corner. It was working, and you could see the nose of your car draw level with his as you reached the apex of the turn.

Your mistake came when you hit the acceleration. Your aim had been to push the speed coming out of the corner and complete the overtake, but your tyres span on the wet tarmac and you felt the car jerk in your hands as the back end swang out, sending the front following it around and your stomach dropped as you felt the sickening sensation of a wet spin.

All you felt was an almighty impact that made your neck snap back against your support brace and your hands fly off the wheel, the impact then forcing the car to jolt the opposite way and a second fast spin followed by an even harder impact swept any comprehension from under your feet.

You weren't sure if the car had stopped or not, because your head was spinning so violently and your body was still recoiling from the double impact and the intense G forces that had thrown you about. Your radio was crackling and buzzing in your ear, but clearly, the connection was lost. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus and you weren't entirely sure if you were conscious, everything around you was silent and you felt like you were sitting underwater, watching everything happen above the surface. You could faintly smell burning.

You didn't move. You weren't sure if you could, or if you just didn't want to. You were warm, very warm. But it was nice. You were quite happy to sit in the fuzzy little bubble.

The only thing to bring you from the haze was the feeling of something gripping the shoulder pads of your race suit and tugging you upwards. You felt like you were moving in slow motion, but you finally registered that you were supposed to get out of the car and in clumsy movements, with much tugging, you managed to stumble from the cockpit.

The body you stumbled into immediately wrapped an arm around your waist and half dragged your body as your feet scrambled on the gravel and made sluggish attempts at steps. You felt yourself being hoisted, and you vaguely registered that you'd been pulled over the barrier and clear of the track. You were pulled further away and then forced into a sitting position with your back against a low concrete wall a little further away.

The person who'd dragged you out was in front of you, shouting something but their voice was muffled by their helmet. They were fiddling with yours, yanking it off your head followed by your baklava, and then their own. You recognised the Ferrari race suit and realised it was Carlos squatting in front of you. He was shouting at you, you could see his mouth moving but the words weren't reaching you through the fog surrounding your head.

"Are you stupid!?" He was shouting over the noise, the words starting to reach you but you just stared at him blankly.

"Are you stupid!?" He yelled again, "What the hell were you thinking!?" He carried on a little, the same question of your stupidity and a string of Spanish swear words repeating rather frequently.

The fog in your head lifted momentarily and the full force of the accident suddenly hit you. Your whole body lurched as your stomach dropped and your head started to spin again as it throbbed with pain.

"I'm going to be sick," was all you managed before rather ungracefully turning your head sideways.

Carlos immediately leapt up, helping to pull your body into a better position. One hand was gripping firmly to your shoulder strap, making sure you didn't tip forward into your mess, and the other rubbed gentle circles on your back.

"It's okay, Y/N, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here," he was mumbling, face far too close for your liking with what was happening, but you were grateful. Your whole body hurt and you could feel the energy draining from you rapidly.

"Where the fuck is first aid!?" He was shouting again, but not at you. There was too much activity and you were too preoccupied to work out if someone was replying to him. "I don't care! I don't give a shit about the fire, she needs help! Where are they!?" You'd stopped dry heaving and he handed you his baklava to wipe your mouth, before helping you back into a sitting position so you could lean against the wall.

And then it finally hit you, that you'd collided with Carlos. "Shit, Carlos, are you okay? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry-" you were rambling but he cut you off.

"I'm okay, hey," his hand found your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him. His eyes were wide and had a slightly wild look in them, but they were dark and honest, his cheeks were flushed pink and had lines from his helmet that stood out even against his deep tan, and other than his hair being damp and sticking up in every direction he really looked okay. "I'm okay," he repeated, and you believed him.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you sounded meek. The adrenaline and initial shock of the crash were fading and you were feeling very small and very tired.

"What were you thinking?" His voice was softer, the initial anger giving way to concern. "That overtake is bad even in the dry weather, why attempt it in the wet?"

You were starting to feel very warm again, and Carlo's features felt like they were drawing away from you as if you were slipping through a tunnel. There was a ringing in your ears. Behind you, you vaguely registered the start of another flurry of activity.

"My strategist..." you mumbled, the words feeling heavier and heavier on your tongue "They told me to...if I want the championship..." Carlos' eyes visibly darkened, thick eyebrows drawing into a scowl and he started breathing through parted lips, muttering a single word you didn't recognise. The tunnel seemed to be extending and the last thing you saw before you let the darkness consume you was Carlos craning around frantically, the look on his face positively murderous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You came around under the bright white lights of the track's sickbay in the pit lane. The hard foam of the examination table was pressing hard into your hips and shoulders, your head uncomfortably tilted upwards on a lumpy but simultaneously flat pillow.

You started to stir, tentatively stretching your legs out and carefully gauging your body's reaction, testing the stretch available in your sore muscles. The track doctor must have heard you because he turned around from where we was stood with his back to you, examining something you couldn't see.

He was a tall man, with pale skin, platinum blonde hair and washed blue eyes that reminded you of the colour of hospital gowns. He was neat as a pin, down to the iron pressed suit and row of pens clipped into his breast pocket lab coat, also pressed, and the stethoscope perfectly balanced around his neck.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, I'm glad to see you awake," you couldn't quite place the soothing yet slightly clipped accent he spoke with.

"I need to ask you a few questions, okay?" You nodded, which you soon realised was a mistake as the room seemed to swoop in front of you. You stilled and had to take a deep breath, determined not to let him see you in any worse state than you already were

"Can you tell me your name please?"

"Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N,"

"Good, and do you know what day it is?"

"Sunday,"

"Excellent. Now this last one is a little tricky, okay? Do you know why you're here?"

You were quiet for a moment. And then it slowly started flooding back to you, the flash of red on green and the out of control feeling of the car spinning you into the wall. You remembered the force of the impact and, for some reason, Carlos Sainz's face.

"I crashed," you mumbled "I hit another car on the corner and span into the wall," the realisation that you had a DNF and no points to add to your championship campaign created a knot in your stomach.

"Very good!" He seemed a lot happier about your predicament than you were.

"How long have I been here? Is the race finished? Is Carlos okay?" The apparent approval from the doctor opened a floodgate of your own questions, but he sushed you gently and encouraged you to quieten down and lay back on the bed.

"No need to panic, Miss Y/L/N, please. The race is finished and you have only been here a few minutes. You passed out when you were removed from the track and the ambulance crew brought you straight here, I was just taking your heart rate when you woke up. Mr Sainz is fine, he is a little shaken but has already returned to his team,"

You nodded, still in shock from the crash and you found yourself having to work hard to follow the doctor's explanation.

He continued to examine you, shining a light in both of your eyes and asking you to perform several reflexes and further memory tests once you were able to sit up.

"Well, I am pleased with you. That was a big crash and you have no lasting injuries. As you managed to walk away we don't have to send you to the hospital. You are not showing any signs of a concussion but I would like you to please be watching for the symptoms, okay? You will be sore for a few days, and I would like to you rest a little, but other than that I am happy to release you to your team,"

The doctor helped you to your feet and you found that you were able to stand, and despite most of your muscles screaming you managed a polite thanks and collected the slip of paper signing you off and making your way slowly back to your home garage.

The scene when you arrived was surprising, your teammate and mentor Sebastian Vettel was in a shouting match with your head strategist. Sebastian was backed by a small green-clad crowd, but the head of Aston Martin and your whole strategy team were stood opposing him.

"-because you know this isn't the first time you've made her do something so dangerous in a race!" Someone tried to interrupt him but Sebastian was having none of it, "No! I have stood by and I have watched her be pushed and pushed and pushed! I won't have it anymore, she's your primary but I'm older and I have championships and this is not how you win. I won't watch her win like this,"

"It's not like that-" someone, you couldn't pick out who in the flurry of activity, started.

"You are going to get her killed!" Sebastian jabbed your strategist in the chest so hard he stumbled back a step. "I won't stand by and watch it happen." He turned on his heel and stormed out, finally spotting you leaning against the entrance.

You must have looked a state because his face instantly softened and he rested a hand on your forearm.

"You're coming with me now, we are going to cool down," he turned and shot a venomous look at the team behind him, who looked completely shellshocked. "We will be in the meeting later." And with that Sebastian led you out of the garage.

"I'm sorry for you to see that," you shrugged.

"It's okay, I'm okay anyway,"

"No, it's not okay. I knew they were pushing you, and several other drivers have made comments feeling you are being dangerous this year. And now we know it was not your choice, I am just so cross that they are doing this to you. And that we needed a crash for something to be said," he shook his head as he walked.

You didn't know what to say in response, so you just swallowed the lump in your throat and said nothing. It had never occurred to you that your team had been putting you in such dangerous positions and that you, who had been awed by the promise of the first female championship, had been blindly following their instructions. You were also worried you'd let Sebastian down, he was your mentor and your hero. The idea of disappointing him was in ways worse than the entire of Aston Martin and the FIA combined.

Seb led you back to your driver's room and left you to manage yourself whilst he did his own cooldown routine. Having not completed the race you decided against your usual routine, instead opting to look after your body for a change. A trick from Carlos sprang to your mind. You had mocked him when he had first admitted that a big part of his routine was sitting in a massive bucket filled with ice-cold water, but now the idea sounded glorious for the multitude of bumps, bruises and aching muscles you'd acquired. You fixed yourself an electrolyte drink and changed into your swimwear before submerging yourself in the shockingly cold water. It was unpleasant, but as you grew used to it you could feel it soothing your whole body, and when you clambered out you had to admit you felt refreshed and a lot more comfortable. Your physiotherapist was about, so you called her in and relished in the feeling of the deep sports massage and adjustments she did with you to help limit the pain you'd be in over the following days.

As much as you wanted to avoid the team meeting, especially after Sebastian's outburst you knew you couldn't. And before long you found yourself slouched in an uncomfortable chair around a large table in the corporate offices above the garage. As you had suspected, the meeting was the first in what would be a string of many at headquarters in the coming weeks. You were given a formal apology from your strategy team for the accident, and Sebastian sat grimly with his arms folded and refused to apologise for his words until they gave you more than the formal apology because he felt it wasn't enough. Then the meeting was the usual, driver reports of the car's performance, a quick review of the statistics and a couple of goals set for your next race. Nobody dared analyse the crash. Seb made life wonderfully difficult for the team, and every time they tried to get more than the essential information out of him he'd just remind them with a short "I'm still mad at you," and simply refuse to say another word.

You had been told you weren't allowed to drive yourself back to the hotel, which was fine by you because your body was so heavy and tired that you had no interest in driving at all. You even skipped the paddock walk or finding the podium boys to congratulate, deciding to opt for the injury excuse to avoid interviews and use the back exit to leave. Seb had offered to drive you back to the hotel, but he didn't have a choice in the post-race interview matter, so instead, you tossed your PR manager-slash-bodyguard Katie, a rather fierce ex-England Rugby player, your keys and let her drive you back to the hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once in the safety of your hotel room, the exhaustion of the day hit a whole new level. You just about managed a sitting-down shower to scrub the race-day grime from your hair and body and changed into a pair of your most comfortable sweatpants and an oversized crop top and you crashed out on the king-sized bed with shitty TV in the background.

It was only late in the afternoon, but it didn't stop you from falling into a deep, empty sleep that you woke up from several hours later, to a completely dark and silent room.

You reached blindly for your phone, blinking in the bright white light as it turned on in your face to realise it was only just past 9pm. You contemplated simply rolling over and falling back asleep, but scrolling through your Instagram had woken you up too much, plus a loud growl from your stomach reminded you that you had barely eaten that day and had only had an electrolyte solution after the race.

You had a couple of notifications, mainly from family members and a handful of drivers wishing you well, including Sebastian who was asking for regular updates on your health. You wrote them all back and spent a little time scrolling through your tags on your Instagram account, even reposting a couple of fans' stories of the crash and reassuring people that you were okay. You were sitting with the music channel on in the background once again as you browsed the room service menu. Nothing was really capturing your attention, as most of it was large, heavy meals you knew you weren't allowed during training and that you didn't really want when another text notification drew your attention back to your phone.

Carlos Sainz: I hope you are feeling better now, Y/N.

Carlos and you texted every now and then. You had a good friendship with him, and you would consider him close, but it was more of an in-person friendship and you almost exclusively associated him with race-week antics. Your messages were largely confined within the realms of the odd well wish, a birthday message or double-checking group plans. Although this tex was to be expected, it still made your insides warm a little.

You: I am, thanks! Just had a big nap and I feel pretty much back to normal

That was a lie, your headache had definitely died down but you were still stiff and achy, not to mention embarrassed and frustrated and deeply confused over the conflict the incident had caused. You felt a little guilty for lying to Carlos, so before you could think you were typing out a follow-up message.

You: I'm actually just about to order some food, so by Seb's standards, I'm totally cured :D

You instantly regretted the smiley face, how embarrassing could you be? You tossed your phone to the side and started going back through the menu, but another notification came through almost instantly.

Carlos Sainz: Would you like some company?

That was enough to send your heart rate up and you felt a small stirring in the pit of your stomach.

Carlos Sainz: I didn't eat yet either

You: Sure, it's the least I can do for you after today

You: But you're coming to my room, I'm not dealing with the dining hall tonight

Carlos Sainz: I don't mind

You swallowed hard, you didn't really know why this was having such an effect on you. Maybe it was just because in three years' time the only driver you'd ever chosen to spend one-on-one time with was Seb, outside of the paddock and other race week promo business you ended up on. Well, there was no going back now.

You: Room 287

Carlos simply sent a thumbs-up emoji after that, so you assumed it meant message received. You knew he was staying in the same hotel as you, as were the majority of the drivers because nearly all the managers went for the same trick of booking the closest hotel to the track with a 5-star rating, but you had no idea what time he'd arrive.

Considering he had only ever seen you before in either your race suit or promotional paddock wear and the occasional formal outfit for events, you weren't entirely sure what was appropriate now. You decided that the least you could do was splash some cold water on your face and re-do your hair into a neater ponytail that didn't look like it had been recently slept on. You made your bed and quickly shoved some clothes that were lying around into the wardrobe so there was less clutter about. You were just contemplating changing outfits when there was a soft knock on your door.

Even though he'd barely made a sound, the knock still made you jump and you had to take a second to steady yourself before you answered the door. A rather sheepish looking Carlos was on the other side.

"I feel like I am sneaking around, doing something I shouldn't be," he admitted, scratching the back of his head as he stepped into your room, taking in his surroundings with the same analytical gaze he seemed to approach everything with.

"Sorry," you mumbled, "I'm just not feeling up to going anywhere,"

"Hey, no, it's okay," he was quick to retaliate "It's more important you get time to recover, no?" He finally looked at you then, with those deep brown eyes so full of emotion, a gentle smile just playing at the corners of his lips. He, too, was dressed more casually in a plain but well-fitting white t-shirt and his standard blue jeans. You still felt underdressed, because Carlos had a knack for always looking put together, and because you were still wearing sweatpants. You cleared your throat awkwardly, and unsure of what to say, nodded stiffly.

"Uh, yeah. So, um, do you wanna look at the menu?" Carlos followed you as you walked in front of him, plucking the menu from where it had been sat on your bed and handing it to him, before moving towards the sofa under the window and sitting down. It felt weird to sit on your bed around him.

Carlos seated himself on the desk chair but angled his body slightly so he was nearly facing you. He was leaning back in the chair, confident and relaxed with one leg crossed over the other but maintaining perfect posture. His arms were massive, even when just holding the menu up and the white top further accentuated his deep tan skin. His head was dipped forward slightly and the angle he was sitting at gave you a jawline sharp enough to slice through, well, anything. His eyebrows were drawn together as he scanned the page and his full lips moved slightly as he tested out certain words. His hair was jet black, shiny from a fresh wash and combed neatly behind his ears, but just tufting up a little at the back of his head and the fringe was long and flopped forward onto his face.

Suddenly, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on your head, you realised why you were so nervous.

He's gorgeous, you thought, rapidly followed by; shit. Because you needed him out of your room now and you couldn't see any normal way to say 'So I've suddenly realised you're incredibly attractive and I can barely breathe when you're around me let alone act normal so please can you go?' It wasn't that you hadn't known he was attractive before, come on, you weren't blind, but you'd never seen him attractive like that before and it was completely throwing you.

Just as you were about to blurt out some excuse as to why you suddenly couldn't entertain guests this evening, Carlos lifted his head and looked at you.

"Is there anything you would like?" Maybe it was because he held eye contact the entire time he spoke, and held it after, or maybe it was the Spanish accent but you felt like you were in a vacuum. You forced yourself to smile, screaming internally to act natural and not fuck this up because losing him as a friend would suck entirely.

"I dunno, it all sounds pretty crap if you ask me," You didn't know how someone could look at you with childlike curiosity, and at the same time like they are about to say or do something entirely sinful. Instead, he leaned back and laughed and you found yourself breathing a little easier.

"Are you fussy? Like Lando? Please, no, I cannot deal with teaching another child to eat," he groaned dramatically, but was grinning at you.

"I'm not fussy!" You defended yourself, but met his playful tone, "I just don't know what I want,"

"Women," he rolled his eyes "None of you ever know what you want to eat. Come on, not even the burgers sound good?" The way he dragged out the 'come on' and rolled his r's was simply distracting. Your stomach decided to step in and make a loud squeaky growl. Judging by the way Carlos' eyes widened and he let out another free giggle, he'd heard too. "See, you are hungry! I'm ordering the burgers, okay?"

"Yeah, alright," you agreed, and then "Actually yeah, burgers sound great, thanks,"

There was something about his confidence that you found innately attractive, the way he was instantly comfortable in your room, but still respectful. He picked up the phone on your bedside table and dialled down as if it was the most natural thing in the world, sending glances at you and pulling a funny face as someone spoke at him from the other side of the line like he'd been placing orders for you all his life. When he sat back down it was on the sofa, beside you, so you turned to face him.

"Hey, Carlos, look I'm so sorry again about the race today-"

"Ah-"

"No, I want to talk, please? I shouldn't have ever attempted that corner so close to you, no matter what I was being told over the radio, and it was totally my fault. Not that it's an excuse for dangerous driving, but they - my strat team - have been really getting in my head about this year's championship, you know? I think something's going on with it because you should have seen Seb, he went off the handle back at the garage. He said they were going to kill me, and he threatened to quit,"

Carlos' face had changed too, his jaw a little set and he'd lost all sense of relaxed teasing.

"They will, if they keep asking you to make choices like that. You are young, still, and you are supposed to be trusting in your team, why should you question them, ay? You shouldn't have to, not yet anyway," he sounded cross, and then he softened a little. "Dios mío, when I saw you in that car. You didn't move, Y/N, you weren't responding. There was a lot of smoke," his voice faltered for a second, and he stared out of the window, running a hand through his hair with a hard swallow. "I couldn't-"

But you didn't get to find out what exactly Carlos couldn't because the food arrived.

You ate the burgers in mostly silence, both of you more hungry than you knew from the long and stressful day. Burgers were absolutely the right call, and you told Carlos so as you sat, finally satisfied with a belly full of comfort food, picking off the last of your french fries. He seemed pleased with you, and you couldn't help but think how nice it was to have dinner with a man who was actively encouraging you to eat more, rather than questioning you for not choosing a salad. You told Carlos that, too.

"Food is important," he said it so simply, just a plain statement. You noticed he talked like that a lot, in relatively short sentences, all of which were perfect statements. He never seemed to invite contradiction or conflict, as if everything in his world was just simple facts. You couldn't help but find it addictive.

Once the food had been consumed Carlos rose without a word and collected the plates and glasses, neatly stacking them on a small table near the door.

"You don't have to do that," you started, standing to take the plates off him when you realised he was clearing up for you. Carlos turned, quite sharply, and met your gaze once more.

"I want to,"

There he went again, with those statements that you just couldn't argue over. You decided to let him have his way, and once he was done the pair of you retired back to the sofa.

"I'm sorry I don't really have anything to drink in here," you felt a little awkward, maybe it was the stubborn English culture kicking in that had trained an entire country to rely on copious amounts of alcohol at any social event.

"Cola is fine for us both, no?" You wanted to say no it was not, because your nerves were starting to return now you didn't have food to focus on and you would have quite liked a glass of wine or even a gin for a bit of liquid courage.

"Yeah, no of course it is," he had such a warm smile, you just wanted to be close to him.

"I would like to ask, why do you have your TV on always?" Part of you wanted to withdraw and lie, but he was staring at you with those wide eyes as if you held all the secrets he needed and before you could think you found yourself speaking honestly, for the first time in a while.

"I hate silence," you admitted "My head's always full, mind racing you know? Wherever I go I turn on the radio or the TV first thing and leave it on, it's just background noise really but it helps me drown out myself," you laughed awkwardly because you didn't quite know how Carlos would react to you telling him something quite personal, but he didn't laugh. He reached forward and placed a large hand on your forearm and squeezed lightly. When he leant back you could have sworn there would have been a burn mark in the shape of his hand on your arm.

"I understand,"

After you'd opened up to him it felt like part of the tension in the room had broken, and you found yourself relaxing again. He was still the Carlos you knew on the track, just as kind and funny and eager to please. Only now you were the sole subject of his attention. And you had to admit that whilst it was a little intense, you were loving every second.

The conversation flowed more naturally too, chatting about anything that came to either of your minds. It was easy and pleasant and it was only when he caught you stifling a yawn that the flow finally ceased.

"Are you tired?"

"No, I'm okay-"

"It's later than I was expecting," he acknowledged, nodding towards the clock on your bedside table that was reading nearly midnight. He stood despite your reasoning and you found yourself following him to the door. "This was really nice, but you need to sleep, to feel better,"

You knew where he was coming from and you agreed, but there was a strike of panic that suddenly shot through you as his hand closed around the handle door handle to leave.

"No, wait!" He dropped the handle as if it was electrified, that wide brown stare fixed on you, confusion and concern flashing across his features.

"I just don't think I want to be alone yet," you admitted to the floor, the sudden spike of fear that had shot through you was yet to subside and you could feel the icy cold shot of adrenaline making its way through your system, and not in a good way "Please?"

Your voice faltered and Carlos immediately stepped forwards, reaching to hold both of your upper arms as if to steady you.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" That did it, the shock of the day and the realisation of everything that had happened crashed into you with full force and for a second you felt your breath hitch. Your vision started to cloud as your eyes burnt, and you had to look away to allow yourself to swallow and try to blink it away. But it was too late, the lump had already formed in your throat and the moment you blinked you felt hot, wet tracks streak down your face. Words were clearly not going to happen for you so you just gritted your teeth and managed the smallest shake of your head.

"No, no, Cariño, don't cry," without hesitation Carlos pulled you even closer, allowing you to bury your face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you just enough to provide the pressure you didn't know you needed. You instantly felt safe in his arms, like nothing could get to you when you were there. And it wasn't long with your forehead pressed against his sternum and several steadying breaths that you managed to regain control of yourself. Carlos didn't move a muscle aside from one hand gently rubbing your back, keeping you tight in the hug and not even flinching away from the contact until you managed to find the self-control to push yourself back, at which he immediately released you.

"Sorry," you mumbled, still staring at the floor. Then you dragged your fingers under your eyes and across your cheeks, perhaps a little harsher than necessary and managed to look at him. The expression on his face wasn't difficult to read, but it was confusing because he was staring at you as if the two seconds of weakness you had shown had completely broken his heart. "Dunno what came over me. Here," you moved back into the living space of the hotel room and threw him the remote control which he caught with ease "Do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

He nodded, not pushing you to talk which was good because the short burst of tears had done nothing but further tangle the mess in your head. Deciding that having to be dragged out of your car by Carlos and then have him subsequently watch you both throw up and cry within the space of only an afternoon, what remained of your dignity was now in tatters and so you climbed onto your bed without a second thought, too tired to care what he might think of you. He waited quietly, gently turning the remote in his hands as he watched you get comfortable on your side of the bed. You decided getting under the covers would be a step too far but opted for propping yourself up against the copious pillows behind you and stretching your legs out. Only when you stopped moving did he join you, sitting close, but not so close that he was touching you.

Within seconds you found that you had drawn your knees up to your chest, hugging them as you used to do when you were overwhelmed in your earlier years. You watched quietly as he flicked through the Netlfix options, squinting slightly to examine the titles. For some reason, you couldn't shake the panicked feeling that hit you when the Spaniard had gone to leave your room.

"Did I hurt you?" Your voice was small, and you did not appreciate the wobble in your tone. Carlos' attention was temporarily diverted from the television as you found him searching your face once more.

"No,"

"Don't lie,"

"Well, it was a crash. You know how the G-force hits, the muscles get a little sore but I'm not hurt," the look on your face clearly said that you weren't buying it. "Y/N, I promise to you, okay? I have hurt myself more at the gym," the way his hand landed on your shoulder, right at the top, on your neck really, a thumb caressing your cheek so briefly you could have sworn it never happened, was just enough to convince you to drop it.

"Okay,"

"Okay," he nodded and went back to picking the movie. You wished you could be like that, so calm and collected, so seemingly unfazed by the chaos surrounding him. You let him decide on the film, it was an action movie and you didn't even recognise the title but you didn't care. You just didn't want to be alone, you didn't want to dwell on the inevitable, but even as you stared non-focused on the sword-wielding heroes in front of you, you could feel it bubbling still.

"If I lose my seat because of this I deserve it," you said finally. The second the words were out of your mouth you felt lighter like your chest had finally been released and some of the weight lifted off. Something subconscious uncoiled within you.

"Drivers don't get fired for mistakes," he said like it was nothing.

"But it wasn't a mistake, I was told to push on the corner and I did,"

"You didn't plan to hit me, so it's a mistake, you're not gonna lose your seat,"

"But-"

"No,"

"Carlos-"

"No!" Finally, you thought, he responded to your worries with something other than total nonchalance. "You are so talented, Y/N, you're one of the best drivers on the grid. Look at you, you're fighting for the world championship in a midfield car - that's incredible. They don't wanna be losing you, and this is their fault anyway. So no more losing seats, okay? I don't wanna hear it," his eyes were blazing, burning right into yours and his cheeks were just starting to show a pale pink flush. Judging by the heat in your face, you were as red as a tomato. You were about to open your mouth to say, well, something, but Carlos beat you to it with a simple gesture forwards, and so you both turned and carried on watching the film in a slightly more tense, but still amicable silence.

You found yourself relaxing as the film went on. Carlos' silence was actually quite pleasant, as he seemed relaxed too, leaning back against your bed with casual attention on the movie, not frightened to laugh or gasp along with it as he pleased. Mirroring him was almost too easy, and you allowed yourself to stretch out once more and relax your shoulders. If Carlos noticed, he didn't say anything, and you appreciated that.

You weren't sure exactly when it happened, but he dropped the knee of the leg closest to you out to the side, causing it to knock gently against yours. And he didn't move away. The next thing you knew your legs were touching, all the way from your hip down to your ankle. It wasn't a cuddle, just a light contact, but it was nice. You couldn't help but feel calmer just by being in his presence. Before you could stop yourself you were leaning into his side, so your whole body was just pressed against his. He had an arm draped over your headboard, and you wondered if he would put it around you, but he never did, allowing you full control of the situation and the level of touch you wished to seek from him.

He was warm too, so warm, even in just a t-shirt. You supposed it was his Mediterranian blood. It was like having your own personal heater sat right beside you, a heater that was suddenly very still and had a wonderfully rhythmic breathing pattern. You found yourself naturally synching with his movements, and the film seemed to be quietening into the background.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must have fallen asleep then because the next thing you knew you were waking up for the second time in a pitch-black room. You were sweating, your heart racing and your skin sticky and unpleasant, the only thing you wanted to do was remove everything from your body, instantly. You ripped the covers off and shimmied the sweatpants down your legs, kicking them quickly away from you and revelling in the way the cooled night air hit your legs. You were about to follow suit with your top when it occurred to you that you had not fallen asleep alone.

However, there was an eerie silence that blanketed you now. All it took was reaching a hand out to the other side of the bed to realise what your sinking heart already knew, Carlos was gone. You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed, and actually quite embarrassed that he'd felt the need to sneak away from you. But the digital clock was showing it was close to 3am and you weren't even fully conscious, so you allowed yourself to flop back down and sleep off the rest of the night.

When you did wake up naturally once more, it was late in the morning. After scrolling through your phone for a bit, and finding yourself disappointed and actually quite annoyed that you hadn't even had so much as a text from Carlos, you decided to have a shower and take advantage of the all-day breakfast menu in the restaurant downstairs. It was only after your shower when you were rummaging around searching for something that you spotted a piece of paper folded and propped up against your bedside table.

The note was addressed to you and written in a familiar loping script.

Y/N,

You fell asleep and I didn't feel good to stay the whole night when you didn't ask me to, so I went back to my room. I hope it didn't upset you that I was gone, if I am to be so confident to hope you missed me!

I wish to thank you too for dinner last night. I wish I had been able to know you like that a bit more sooner. Perhaps you would like breakfast tomorrow? I will wait for you to wake up.

Love,

Carlos.

He'd written you a note. A real, old-school note and he'd signed it 'love'. You found yourself grinning like a schoolgirl, your heart racing and your face felt hot even though there was no one around. There was no point pretending, you thought to yourself, what was the point? You'd realised last night something was different and he made you feel good. Plus if you were about to go through a very challenging period with Aston Martin, and maybe even finding yourself losing a seat or transferring to a different team, then why didn't you deserve to have a bit of fun in the meantime?

You changed into a sundress that you knew was far too pretty for the restaurant in the hotel, and spent a little time fussing with your hair and makeup before you picked up your phone. It was still before midday, so you decided to take control for once, and sent off a one-word text to Carlos,

You: Brunch?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

Check out my masterlist here

Dear existing followers, I'm sorry it's YET ANOTHER new fandom!! Am still writing my Obvious fic and I'm planning to get Chapter 4 out in the next 1-2 weeks whilst I'm still on a break before I start rotations and shit hits the fan! Plus I have some spiderman content and a little James McAvoy thingy in the drafts...

But over exams, I managed to develop yet another hyperfixation, this time on Formula 1 (probably because there was tons of content to gobble up and distract myself from the horror that was 4th-year exams, because oh my god they were BRUTAL) and shortly after deciding that I don't hate the sport I grew up watching nearly every Sunday and not once appreciating, I very quickly collected a new person to obsess over.

Anyway, non-F1 followers meet Carlos. He is Spanish and sexy and in my opinion quite underrated. I think he's a really interesting person and gives a lot of layers to himself which to me just begs to be written about. So I wanted to get this off my chest and kick start back into writing with something that's chucking free dopamine at me and not giving me insane writer's block for now.

F1 followers/fans, this is my first F1 fic so please be nice. Undecided whether to leave this as a single or add in a second part with some smut as is my style. Input would be appreciated!! Either way, don't panic I defo have more ideas for Carlos and maybe some of the other drivers too so more content and definitely smut to come.

Also, standard disclaimer, this is real person fiction, but it is still FICTION. F1 fans don't take the Aston Martin/Imola track and turn shit too seriously, I didn't write it with accuracy in mind and I know realistically an Aston Martin car atm is not gonna be a championship contender but I love Track Dad!Seb too much. With Carlos, a full disclaimer is in my masterlist, but this is a work of fiction based on the personality he gives during his work. It's interpretation, not accuracy and out of respect to his current girlfriend, this is based in an AU where he is single.

Happy reading and I hope to be around for a wee bit again!

Rage and Love,

Le Gremlin xx

Forever taglist: @graysonmalfoy @inumorph @lokilvrr @bookgirlunicorn @thinkwritexpress-official @samandstuffworld @faeriedelalune-blog @elthanin-sive-blog-blog @ispendmoretimehere-blog @drakesfiance @allonesharingonebreath @storm-howlett @daneel-the-sister-of-castiel @groovy-lady

#formula one #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz 55 #F1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel #aston martin #flat spin

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blorbocedes · 8 months

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perhaps this is me being shallow and i’m not trying to insinuate that every driver on the grid has to be gunning for a wdc but i don’t understand why anyone would turn down a rb contract at this stage? i mean if the rumours about alex refusing the seat are true i just… idk i know he’s been personally victimised by helmut marko before and been through the rb ringer but he’s a much better much more skilled and experienced driver right now and if it were me i’d personally want to test my skills against max. rb is the most coveted seat right now, it’s an opportunity to get regular podiums and even wins if max messes up or you’re simply faster. i don’t enjoy this “running from a fight” mentality (not saying that’s what alex is doing rn cause ofc there are other things at play) and it is in fact one of the reasons ****** sorta fell out of my favour. anyway i hope this makes sense haha not a native speaker, and not trying to be rude i just… don’t get it. i had similar thoughts about lando before, when horner said they’d talk to lando and then he’d only use that as leverage in his mclaren contracts. but baffling to me to come all the way to f1 after dedicating your life to it and then just going “nah” when you have the chance to be in the best car cause the other might be better than you. i mean when max got to rb daniel was the guy who had just pulverised 4-time wdc vettel, and you didn’t see him hesitte to jump in the car mid-season

when you sign a redbull contract now, you know you're effectively going to play second driver until 2028. yes Alex is a more complete driver now and would prob fare much better vs Max now, but he's also been through the RBR ringer like you said. going back would mean adjusting to an entirely new car while Max has only driven redbulls, AND getting scrutinised 2x because of his prev performance. anything below p2 is considered underperforming in the best car, and that's a lot of pressure and ofc your ego having to handle being "Max's bitch." pulling a rosberg against a generational talent is not easy. at Williams alex is personally more involved and treated as team leader and the car has improved from being the worst back marker to a solid midfielder, with Alex outdriving it.

also. job security in f1 is notoriously limited with 20 seats and rookies from f2 vying to get in. let's say alex goes to RBR. he either has to hope they let him drive until 2028 and finally get a shot at the championship (if 2026 regulations don't turn it into a junk box) and no second driver is getting a 5 year contract. Valtteri went from the best car to a backmark/midfielder. He's not even in question when silly season rolls around for the Ferraris and Bulls, despite being a solid second driver who picked off wins when Lewis dnf'd. they might scout him for Audi because they need an experienced driver for development. your career moving from the best car can only go Down. Alex already had a year off from f1 as a reserve driver when RB booted him, whatever choices he makes -- it'll be with a long term goal in mind.

Alex has said recently that if the Williams doesn't improve, he will look at other options -- as he should! He's being scouted by multiple teams. The improvements of the Aston Martin and even Mclaren have shown absolute backmarkers can become podium contending cars within a season! you'd prefer to succeed with a team that knows you and will accommodate to you than a top team where you're expected to play someone else's defense. Which brings me to lando. Lando is in the curious case Max was in 2017/18, where all the top teams were courting him. He had offers from Ferrari and Merc, while nobody knew if the RB Honda deal would work, and the RB was DNFing every other race. redbull convinced max to stay, that they'll develop the car around him and they will become a top team. I'm sure mclaren is doing the same to lando, that's the only team he's driven for and he's getting paid Very Well, the team principal is literally invested in his business, and they started this season around p19/p20, and finished it on podium. the results are there, why would he move to rbr to pick off max's crumbs?

do you know who absolutely did run from a fight? daniel. bc RB had no outright driver hierarchy in 2018, they literally stated they wanted to win a championship with daniel -- but max was too much of a rising star and daniel dipped, leaving the only team his career had anything notable from.

#silly season #f1 driver pairings #blorbocedes ask

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leclerced · 3 months

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I feel like this whole thing got released way too early, like a year too early. And poor Carlos. What’s gonna happen now? Alonso go to Merc given how buddy-buddy he’s been with George lately? Then Sainz takes the Aston Martin spot until Audi comes along? Idk lol, I think we are all in shock and processing. Others were talking about Albon to Merc too. Your opinion?

-🍓

i've been thinking and trying to gather my thoughts all day and i'm still confused. i feel like this has been building for months secretly because things like this don't just happen. i don't rly know anything im just gonna rant all my thoughts out and hope it makes some sense to u guys.

taking into account that charles apparently knew lewis would be signing, i have a feeling they started having talks with lewis and when it got serious they probably let charles know before carlos. considering charles said, hello lewis when asked who he wanted as a teammate, i think it could have happened before that. or he was just being cute. it would explain why charles was so friendly with max and redbull, showing them he had other options if he wanted to take them, in the same way them telling charles about lewis would be them showing him they have other options. so charles knows they're in talks with lewis, and he uses redbull as a bartering chip to get a better position within the team at ferrari, to get the contract he wants, and is guaranteed an out in the event the car is shit or he doesn't work well with lewis.

or he used redbull as a bartering chip and knowing they might lose charles, ferrari signs lewis and gets rid of carlos, as a backup plan for if/when charles leaves. charles said he'll be with ferrari for "many more seasons" or something like that, so i think he wants to play it by ear, go through with this season with carlos and at least one with lewis as a teammate to see how that goes.

i think they announced it so soon because once they had charles's and lewis's contracts signed, they have to let carlos know he won't have his contract renewed. they know that carlos will be talking with other teams, so it's better for ferrari/the media to announce it now and make it their narrative than to let carlos shop around for a new seat and have talks about him leaving ferrari. plus after charles's announcement, everyone was wondering when carlos's would be. plus the thing that first leaked about charles's contract said carlos's negotiations had stalled, which makes me think lewis and charles's contracts were both signed recently.

imagine the rumors if we found out carlos was talking to toto behind closed doors and we didn't know about lewis moving to ferrari? we'd be wondering if george is losing his seat, if lewis is retiring, a million other things. knowing that lewis is joining ferrari and carlos is leaving sends a clear message. it looks better for them to make the decision to sign charles and lewis and kick carlos to the curb, rather than have it look like carlos left them and they had to go looking for drivers. stealing lewis from merc would look great in a post breakup glow up kind of way though. like, you left us but we have a seven time world champion in your seat now so good luck lol

i don't even know who could go to merc. i don't think carlos would, but maybe. love the idea of george and alex together to be honest!! i would love to see it !!! idk where carlos will go, i'm very curious what the rest of this season will bring and it hasn't even started.

#ask #anon #on pc cant tag emojis sorry!#tag later

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hyacinthsdiamonds · 5 months

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F1 teams as districts:

District 1, luxury items; The first half of the career pack, for me, has to be Ferrari. The privilege and prestige District 1 is implied to have in the books (in comparison to the other districts) and the undeniable privilege and prestige Ferrari has in F1, it just makes sense to me.

District 2 is masonry and defense, I am leaning towards mercedes here, purely because narratively it makes sense to put them as the second half of the career pack. I did debate putting in mclaren but in recent years only, there was no contest.

District 3 is general electronics, this one caused a lot of back and forth for me but in the end I went with Williams. The brilliance of the way Beetee used his intelligence to win and the brilliance of the cars Newey produced for Williams in the early ninties, it just made sense for me.

District 4, fishing; now maybe a controversial take, but for me, District 4 is Red Bull. Hear me out: while considered a career district, District 4 is implied to be for conditional career District. Depending on circumstances, District 4 tributes might not ally with the traditional career pack. Its implied the tributes capabilities and age, the type of arena they're thrust into, etc affect whether or not they'll make the line up. In the books, the girl from 4 is a career tribute but the boy, the youngest tribute alongside Rue, is not and is killed pretty quick. Annie Cresta only won her games due to her ability to swim, which implies that she wasn't hunting down her fellow tributes with the careers. We know she was traumatised by the death of her District partner which also implies that he was her only ally in her games. Now Finnick, Finnick is the exception. He's one of the youngest Victor's ever, he was 14. Primarily stayed alive at first because no one thought he was a real threat. It's kind of implied he was with the careers but that's up for debate and discussion. When he is gifted a trident by the sponsors, that's when things change. The other tributes didn't realise their mistake until it was too late. Not to mention, according to Katniss' initial thoughts of him, Finnick comes across as confident, obnoxiously arrogant and devilishly charming. It just screams red bull golden boy to me. There's a reason why 12 year old pictured seb as finnick when I first read catching fire lmao.

District 5 is power/electricity, mclaren. Mclaren was a hard one to place. I switched them and Williams around a couple of times. My justification for possibly putting Williams here? The battery logo on their car lmao. In end a similar justification as to why I put Williams in 3, put mclaren in 5. Ngl Oscar is a little foxface coded.

District 6 is transportation, we don't see much on District 6 other than the morphlings so thanks to word association with the concept of the districts role, I had to go with Alpine lmao.

District 7 is lumber, Aston Martin purely because I think Johanna Mason and Fernando would either get along like house on fire, set the world on fire or both.

District 8 is textiles, alfa romeo. Was this primarily because of Zhou's impeccable fashion sense? And what about it? And I can't deny Bottas gives me District 8 vibes based on the character's from that District. That being said they were almost District 7 because of Johanna taking her clothes off in the elevator and Bottas being Bottas on insta lmfao.

District 10 is livestock, again I have no justification other than vibes but haas. I nearly put Alpha Tauri here due to their relationship with red bull.

District 11 is agriculture, I put Alpha Tauri is the only team specifically there to develop young drivers and has been struggling due to various issues in the last few years. Very much needed (in regards to developing young drivers, 11 produces most of the food for the capitol, both are underappreciated and are harshly criticised/punished by the sky sports commentators/the capitol.

There was a 13th District that was in charge of nuclear weaponry, but prior to the start of the book, it was obliterated. (We later find out that wasn't totally accurate, but anyways, for the sake of this post, it was completely obliterated). 13, along with 2, was the main weapon developer for the capitol. 13's destruction paved the way for 2 to become more valuable for the capitol and why it became a career district. If 2 is mercedes, 13 is brawn gp.

District 9 (grain) & 12 (coal mining) I've had to leave blank as I can't think of anything else currently but I'm sure if I look back through the f1 vaults I could find parallels between different teams and these districts.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #the hunger games #the crossover nobody asked for #apart from the red bull admin who i give the District 12 salute to #i read the trilogy in 2012 and was obsessed with it #red bull era seb and michael was on the grid we had nando jenson nico etc my childhood drivers life was good #Feel free to share opinions and different interpretations #this was a bit of fun I put way too much thought into but hey I enjoyed it

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mickcedesagenda · 1 year

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04.03.2023 | BAHRAIN QUALIFYING

I couldn't watch FP3 yesterday and missed almost all of Qualifying live because the power went out, but I was able to watch it on replay :)

I couldn't believe that a piece of bodywork had blown off Charles' car, and they couldn't even give him an answer.

I'm surprised that Lance was able to get out of Q1 in the final minutes, considering his condition. But he was awesome all the same.

Another one that surprised me was Pierre, because why is Pierre P20 with a damn Alpine?

Curiously, the three rookies were eliminated in Q1. It makes sense, but at the same time, I was hoping that at least one would go into Q2 (Piastri, specifically). Logan was so close. It was bad luck, I guess.

It's a pity that Kevin got knocked out in Q1.

This was a really interesting Qualifying, compared to last season at least. I like that the competition is closer. I hope the season is full of this.

I have to say, it bothers me so much that Alex didn't make it to Q3. I'm convinced that he genuinely would have done it with enough time.

Lance's pace is impressive, as he has moved into Q3 at the last moment again.

That being said, Lando ended up eliminated (I feel everyone was celebrating haha). McLaren is bad and is a shame for the drivers. It's still interesting that last year they focused a lot on how Daniel was outqualified by Lando, while Lando narrowly missed Q3 this time. I hope it makes them realize that the biggest problem is the car. They need to accept their mistakes in order to improve.

I don't have much to say about Max, just that he's a beast. 1:29.897? What? Incredible, simply incredible.

I'll admit that I don't really want to see Red Bull dominate because I'm more interested in seeing a fight between two or more teams (The Big 3 + Aston Martin), but the way Max and Checo dominated at the last moment was awesome.

Now Charles. God. 1:30.000 is very impressive, and it wasn't enough. But that's not my problem, my problem is that he had to retire. According to them [Ferrari and Charles], he withdrew to be able to use softs tomorrow, but if it's a strategy, why did Charles react like that when he got out of the car? They say it's not a mechanical problem, but I don't believe them, sorry.

I love Carlos, but his pace has not been the best this weekend, much less in Qualifying. I want to think it's because of a new car that's not at its best, but… P4 is a good place anyway, as long as you're not Carlos Sainz and George Russell is not behind you.

FERNANDO ALONSO WAS INCREDIBLE. I know he got P5, but considering that Aston Martin was struggling and the Alpine was uncooperative last season, P5 seems unbelievable. Fernando was great all weekend and is known to be great at overtaking. Starting further back is no problem for him.

You know what? I don't even want to talk about Mercedes. Which is weird because I always want to talk about Mercedes. They haven't had a good pace in qualifying, even in the first round of the season, and that's worrying. Hopefully, it's just Bahrain, but I'm not expecting much from them anymore.

Lance and Esteban were great. They did really well.

Hulkenberg? In a Haas? In Q3? They deleted his lap time, so he was down to P10, which is still kinda impressive, but oh well.

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f1 · 1 year

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Wolff would accept Hamilton leaving if Mercedes poor form lasts years | 2023 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

Lewis Hamilton would be justified in leaving Mercedes if their current poor form lasts years, says team principal Toto Wolff. The seven-times world champion is enduring the longest victory drought of his record-breaking Formula 1 career. He failed to win a race last season and Mercedes started 2023 on the back foot for a second year in a row, finishing the first race behind rivals Red Bull, Ferrari and even Aston Martin. With rumours already beginning to circulate that Hamilton could choose not to re-sign with the team with his contract expiring at the end of the current season, Wolff is confident that the seven-times champion will choose to remain with them alongside team mate George Russell for next year. “I have no idea what is being said in the silly season, I just know where we are with Lewis and with George – nothing else is relevant,” said Wolff. “We are talking when we want to do it and how but we just need to change some terms – the dates, basically.” Wolff believes that Hamilton will not choose to leave Mercedes and pursue his unprecedented eighth world championship with another team. However, he admitted he would not blame Hamilton for considering other options if Mercedes do not return to championship contention in the years ahead. “I don’t think that Lewis will leave Mercedes,” Wolff insisted. “He’s at the stage of a career where we trust each other. We have formed a great bond among each other and we have no reason to doubt each other, even though this is a difficult spell.” The Mercedes team principal said he is looking forward to them emerging from their current slump. “So nice it will be, when we come out of this valley of tears and come back to solid performances. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free “As a driver, nevertheless, if he wants to win another championship, he needs to make sure that he has the car. And if we cannot demonstrate that we are able to give him a car in the next couple of years, then he needs to look everywhere. “I don’t think he’s doing it at that stage, but I will have no grudge if that happens in a year or two.” Yesterday Hamilton said the team’s lack of success had not affected his motivation. “You just redirect your energy,” he explained. “It’s just different. “If you’re fighting for a world championship, which is what you prepare for at the beginning of the season, you realise that’s not the case and then you redirect the energy into building and strengthening the team, supporting everyone in the best way you can. You continue to prepare the same for the races, in the sense of your fitness and the mental approach. “Wwe need the Red Bulls not to finish the race, the Ferraris not to finish the race, and maybe now the Astons not to finish the race, for us to be winning at the moment. But that doesn’t mean we can’t catch them up. “None of us at this team have ever kind of shied away from a challenge. We enjoy the challenge. We would much prefer to be at the front, but it isn’t the way it is.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2023 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix Browse all 2023 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Wolff would accept Hamilton leaving if Mercedes’ poor form lasts years | 2023 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix #Formula 1

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martiniracing · 3 years

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#wow can i have a glass of water #agent 005 #vettel sebastian vettel #makes sense considering he's in Aston Martin now #formula 1 #f1 #sebastian vettel #cool seb #sexy seb #secret agent au #attitude #ferrari seb #f1blr #sebastian Vettel #ferrari #i feel very thirsty #5 #seb

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thepavementsings · 2 years

Note

Pierre/Charles 25 thoughts????

(good luck on your exam!)

Hello! Firstly, thank you. I will need luck! More importantly, this is Pierre/Charles as Adele's album 25 future fic! Not actually a fic more a hc cause I don't do that, but I like the alliteration. This is sad under the cut but I PROMISE this au gets a happy ending eventually. Gonna do this a little differently idk how this formatting will work but here goes it. Only one song for tonight because I realized writing this out that the second one is… almost 600 words already and they’ve barely spoken. There will be more! But for now we’re ✨setting the scene✨ under the cut.

Song 1. River Lea

Everybody tells me it's 'bout time that I moved on // And I need to learn to lighten up and learn how to be young // But my heart is a valley, it's so shallow and man made // I'm scared to death if I let you in that you'll see I'm just a fake

It’s 2026 and Pierre has spent the last three and a half years wasting away in the midfield at Aston Martin. It’s funny, he’s always seen Sebastian as a type of idol of his. He thinks cruelly of himself, that at least Seb had 4 world titles to console him in those final two years. What had he said? He was spoiled. He got used to winning and being at the front. The satisfaction doesn’t feel the same. Pierre on the other hand spent only 9 races at the top, and almost 9 more years trying to get back there. He’s not sure which one he thinks is worse.

He’s beating Lance, but it doesn’t mean anything. Not when the rumours are saying the Stroll family are looking to pull out of Formula 1 anyways. He thinks maybe now it makes sense. For him to bow out, as gracefully as you can when the whispers around the paddock say a newer, younger era of formula one is building. He remembers when that used to mean him.

There was something in the water, now that something's in me // Oh I can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips // I can't go back to the river

When he was younger, in his Red Bull days, he and Charles used to joke about people who had 5 year plans. Guys in the paddock with all these business ventures and side hobbies, setting themselves up for the rest of their lives. Become a world champion. The rest of it is for later, no? It had always felt so simple. Maybe to Charles it still is. Next year, when we have the car, he keeps telling Pierre, and every year Pierre believes him. It’s hard not to when he looks at him with that same determined glint in his eyes as when they were kids. He remembers when that same ferocity burned inside him. Sometimes he can still feel it in his throat, gnawing at him.

When he meets with his financial advisor over the summer break to talk about next steps, it feels like a betrayal to the long days and sleepless nights spent by the karting track. When he hears Charles’ message asking for restaurant recommendations in Madrid, he deletes the voicemail at first. He messages him a link the next day.

Consider this my apology, I know it's years in advance // But I'd rather say it now in case I never get the chance // No I can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips // I can't go back to the river

#Bring The Floor Up To My Knees #Pierre/Charles #stps #asks #Im gonna hate this looking back at it I already know but too late lol

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silkling · 3 years

Note

Hey, Can you make (Bayverse) Starscream meets (TFP) Knock Out?

Knock Out came to with an aching helm and a curse on his lips. He groaned as he sat up, one palm dressing to his forehead and blinking away the static overlaying his vision. He looked around himself once he could see clearly, pausing when he noticed that he was in the middle of an organic forest. The realization made his upper lip curl faintly, and he looked down at himself. And that was when he froze in horror. His finish! It was ruined! There were scrapes in the paint and he was covered in all manner of dirt and other organic filth. He hated it. The medic scowled as he stood, red optics shining with rage. Whoever was responsible for this was going to pay very dearly, he decided. For now, though, he had to get back to base.

He paused as he heard jet engines overhead, optics narrowing. Now, was that one of the little squishies or was it one of the Decepticons? That question was answered when there was the sound of a transformation and a heavy metal form crashed through the tree tops to land in front of him. A red gaze landed on him, and Knock Out could see rage and disgust building in the flyer’s optics before he paused. The look was replaced with confusion and suspicion, and then he spoke.

“Autobots do not usually have red optics.” he growled, voice deep and with a permanent growl woven into it. “Yet I know of no Decepticon who wears such bright colors.” Those optics narrowed to pinpricks. “Speak, stranger. Who are you?”

It was at this point the medic paused. How did this flyer not know who he was? Knock Out was the only proper doctor in the entirety of the Decepticon army. (No, Hook did not count. He did not have the training or the license, for all he had the learned skill). All the others had been offlined in the War. He would have thought that every bot on either side knew him, if only because they knew what he was.

“I am Knock Out.” he said carefully. “And who are you?”

The flyer grinned here, the look savage and far to gleeful for his comfort. “I am Starscream, second in command of the Decepticons!” he announced.

Knock Out blinked slowly, once, twice, then a third time, before fury twisted his features and he let loose a litany of vicious, filthy curses in Cybertronian, combining several dialects and even throwing in one or two curses from the dead languages he’d enjoyed studying in his youth. It made Starscream rear back, optics wide with shock and and EM field buzzing with disbelief. After several long minutes, in which the Seeker could only stare in a growing sense of horrified fascination, (wait, Knock threatened to do what with an engine and an intake? Ouch. Starscream did not want to be in the place of whatever poor fool as angered the bright red Cybertronian), the Aston Martin spit out one last curse before his expression smoothed over and he turned to the Seeker. Starscream, by this point, had taken several steps back and was now hoping that this bot wouldn’t turn his ire on him.

“So sorry about that.” Knock Out said lightly. “I’m afraid I just understood how I got here, and the mech responsible for this mess is going to feel every bit of my wrath when I return.”

Starscream blinked. “I…see.” he said carefully.

Knock Out smirked. “I don’t think you do, so allow me to re-introduce myself.” He stepped forward, crossing an arm across his chest. “My name is Knock Out.” he said with a flourish. “Chief medic to the Decepticons.” he finished his introduction with a dramatic bow.

Starscream sneered. “Impossible!” he snarled. “The Decepticons have no medic. Our last one was offlined by Optimus Prime. This must be some puny Autobot trick!

Knock Out blinked. “Goodness, Sweet Rims actually offlined a bot that wasn’t just a Vehicon drone?” he mused. “This really is different.”

The Seeker reared back, reeling over the fact that this so-called “medic” had just called Optimus Prime Sweet Rims, of all things. Then the second statement caught up to him and he frowned. “Different.” he repeated in a deadpan.

“Yes!” Knock Out threw his hands to the air, the gesture wide and dramatic. “You see, my dear Starscream,” he purred, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am from another dimension entirely.”

Well, that was a new one.

“Explain.”

“In my world, the Great War between the Decepticons and Autobots ended up being brought to a small organic planet called Earth. I assume it’s the same here.” he said, gesturing around them. “Recently, Lord Megatron, that is, my Lord Megatron became aware of the existence of the Iacon Relics. They’re powerful artifacts that were stored in the vaults of Iacon before it’s destruction, and sent away from the planet before they could come into Decepticon possession.” he said. “Lord Megatron learned that possessing the relics granted whoever had them a rather significant advantage, especially certain specific relics like the Relics of the Primes.”

Starscream snorted. “Get to the point.”

Knock Out sighed dramatically. “Oh, very well.” he drawled. “The point is: myself and my partner were sent to retrieve a relic that had only just began putting out a detectable signal. According to our data files on it, it had been created by the old Senate before the war. Unfortunately, the research notes on the subject were corrupted, but what little of the research was clear suggested that the device had been created to study the multiverse theory.” Here, he paused and glanced around himself. “Given that you’re Starscream, and the Starscream I know looks nothing like you, and you do not know me, and the Decepticons have no medic…” he trailed off, raising his hands, palms up as he shrugged. “It would seem that the device was for more than just researching the multiverse theory. The last thing I remember is grabbing it and making for the ground bridge, only for that Pit damned Wrecker to shoot the device in hopes of keeping it from falling into Decepticon hands. Then there was a flash of light and a surge of energy, and what do you know, I’m waking up here!” he finished, through his arms out with a flourish.

Starscream frowned. That…actually lined up. He had been sent ahead of Sideways and Barricade, who were also on their way to this location, because the sensors at the hidden Decepticon base had picked up a surge of unknown energy. If Knock Out was the cause of that surge, and given the fact he was here at its location he might very well be, then it would stand to reason that his story was actually true. Even aside from that, Starscream could pick up no deception in his field or EM field. Granted, bots could still lie even without their voices or fields giving it away, but Starscream was a master at lying, and prided himself on being able to sniff out deception like a turbo-fox sniffing out cyber-rats. Nothing he could tell suggested Knock Out was lying. Which meant his story was, at the very least, partly true.

“I see.” he said, voice devoid of any intonation.

The medic narrowed his optics at the seeming non-reaction, his arms crossing almost delicately in front of his chassis. Something about the way this Starscream had said that made his instincts itch. He didn’t like it. This version of the Air Commander was so very different from his. His Starscream was more skittish and wary, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, given how his Megatron treated his second in command, the Aston Martin was entirely unsurprised at his Starscream’s more lacking confidence. As of late, Lord Megatron had been….well, even more unhinged than usual. Given how Megatron had taken to lashing out at Starscream for ever petty grievance, it was no wonder the more lithe Seeker was jumpy. This Starscream had many of the same core personality traits, from what he could see, but his behavior was quite a bit different.

“You needn’t worry about me causing any issues in your world.” he said airily, forcing his processor back in track. He dusted some dried dirt of off arm, lip curling upwards in disgust as the stuff flaked off his armor. “I’ll find a place to lay low and stay out of sight of any locals, be it Cybertronian or human. I’m certain Lord Megatron will either fix the device if it was broken or retrieve it if it was stolen and find a way to bring me back.” he said airily. His tone was confident, and though his words sounded like it, he wasn’t bragging.

It was a fact. The Decepticons needed him. None of the others knew how to do proper medical care. Breakdown could certainly perform the simpler procedures, and most soldiers knew basic field care, but Knock Out was the only one who could handle the injuries that went beyond that. Without him, the Decepticons of his world wouldn’t be able to heal their injured soldiers, which would mean more ‘Cons would die and they’d eventually deplete their numbers enough to put the Autobots at an advantage. As vain as it may sound, Knock Out knew that, right after Megatron and Soundwave, he was the most essential member of the Decepticon forces when it came to keeping the faction running,

Starscream clearly didn’t like his tone of voice, however, because the Seeker growled in displeasure. “Oh? And what makes you so certain?”

Knock Out snorted, one optic ridge arching up. “Oh, don’t get so sour.” he admonished. “I told you, I am the Chief Medic to the Decepticons. I am also, however, their only medic. I can put mechs back together from scrap metal, if I must.” he made a vague gesture with his hand. “I do not mean to sound so vain, but I am very much needed by the Decepticon forces back home.” he said airily. “I’m the only trained, licensed medic they have, after all.”

Starscream stared at him for a long moment, and Knock Out did not like the suddenly considering look in his sharp gaze. “I see.” he narrowed his eyes. “So you’re a skillful medic, then?”

The red mech paused. “I’m not as good as Ratchet,” he said carefully. “But I was in the top of the field before the War broke out.”

Starscream smirked, then, the expression showing just a hint of teeth. Knock about suddenly had a very, very bad feeling. “I see.” the Seeker repeated, sounding sickeningly pleased.

There was the sound of pede steps behind them, and two mechs stepped out from the foliage. Starscream lifted his gaze, head tilting with a dark grin. “Barricade, Sideways.” he hummed. “I see you finally made it.” He flashed teeth in an expression that bordered on a sneer. “I’d like you two to meet Knock Out,” He gestured at the increasingly tense medic. “Our newest medic.” He finished with a vicious grin.

Knock Out tensed, his armor plating clamping closed and tight. Oh, he’d been right. He didn’t like this. “Excuse me?” he hissed.

He was ignored. The two new mechs glanced at each other, then looked at him, clearly unimpressed. “He’s a medic? He’s very…bright. Is he a ‘Bot? The silver one asked, sounding dubious.

Starscream hummed. “No, Knock Out here is a certified Deception medic. We’ve been unable to fix any injured warriors properly ever since Prime took out Scalpel. Our new friend here is from…somewhere else.” he smirked. “But he should fill Scalpels’s pedes quite well.”

The black and white mech shrugged. “Works for me. He’s real colorful alright, but he looks too sharp for an Autobot. And Autobots’s don’t have red optics, either.” he sounded bemused.

Knock Out, by this point, had enough if being ignored. His hand transformed into his saw, and the blade whirled to life. “I think,” he snarled. “You will find that I am not quite so willing to go along with you, Starscream. I’ll be found by my own eventually, so I suggest you and your little friends frag off and leave me be.” he hissed.

There was the sound of smaller transformations, and all three mechs were pointing weapons at him. “Weapon away, doctor.” Starscream said, sickeningly sweet. “You are outnumbered, and if you offline one of us the other two will have you subdued easily enough.”

Knock Out snarled furiously, his engine all but roaring with his rage, but he knew the Seeker was right. He did as he was told, and the two mechs behind him stepped up, one on either side, to grip his arms and force them behind his back. He glared at the Seeker, gaze promising pain.

Starscream only stepped closer, reaching out to tap the medic’s chin with a finger. “I think, Knock Out,” He said with a dark grin. “That you will find Lord Megatron reluctant to simply allow you to be stolen away now that we have you. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if he orders Soundwave and perhaps even Shockwave to develop a way to ensure you cannot be tracked and retrieved by your friends.” He leaned in close, lips twisting in a mocking sneer. “You belong to us now, little medic.”

Knock Out was tense, his processor racing. This was bad. If that was true, then he doubted he’d be able to ever return home. Unless he could get away now, that is. But he likely wouldn’t be able to. He was the smallest mech here. All three of the duller Decepticons were taller and bulkier than he was. He wouldn’t be able to fight all of them. The medic growled, low and angry, and leaned forward against the hold the other two had on him. It caused their claws to dig into and scratch the paint of his arms, but for once he didn’t care. He got as close to Starscream’s face as he could, eyes holding dark promise.

“You had better pray to Primus that you never end up on my medical berth, Starscream.” He said, voice low. “Because while I may fix you, I will also ensure that your stay in my medical bay makes the Unmaker’s Pits seem like the Well of All Sparks.”

There was a rough laugh behind him, and then he was being yanked away from the still Seeker. “Come on, Doc. Time to get moving.” The silver mech grinned.

He was guided firmly through the forest, until they came to an empty road. He obeyed the cold order to transform from the black and white mech, and then they two larger bots followed suit and boxed him in. Making sure to keep the red medic trapped between them, they drove back towards the Decepticon base, the newest acquisition of the Deceptions firmly in tow.

Back at the clearing where Knock Out had appeared, Starscream remained frozen for a moment longer. Suddenly, he felt like he might have made his decision just a little too hastily, and he remembered the creative threats and curses the smaller bit had spat out. If Knock Out was actually capable of even half the things he had threatened in that little spiel, and Starscream got the unpleasant feeling he was, then he very, very much did in fact hope he never had to go to the medic for repairs. Though, given his luck as of late…he had a feeling he’d be seeing the doctor sooner than he thought.

Frag.

#request fic #silkling request fics #tfp knockout #bayverse starscream #knockout #Starscream #TFP #transformers prime #transformers bayverse #bayformers #transformers crossover #Starscream makes a mistake #angry knock out is scary #Starscream has regrets #knock out is gonna kill all of them out of spite #just you watch #maccadam

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