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katebishopsbow · 6 months

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HEAT EXHAUSTION • OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader

summary: the heat was unbearable in the qatar gp, and after completing 57 dreadful laps you ended up fainting on broadcast television. knowing that the media was going to exploit your little incident and turn this into an issue of why women do not belong in motorsports, you were engulfed by guilt and self-hatred, and oscar was there to comfort you.

tags: enemies to lovers (kind of), angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of misogyny

word count: 2.6k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

“That’s P3 and the third podium of the season. Great work out there today.”

Coming into the Qatar Grand Prix - with the sweltering heat and the suffocating humidity of the desert - you had already known it was bound to be a difficult race, but nothing could have prepared you for how grueling it actually was.

Feeling as if your entire body was engulfed in flames as you sat in the cockpit, sweat dripping down your face while your body overworked itself to withstand the g-forces at every high-speed turn. It was utterly torturous, and with each passing second during the race you felt like you were getting closer and closer to collapsing.

When you finally completed all 57 of those dreadful laps, you just barely managed to pull yourself out of the car with your wobbly arms and trembling legs. Your entire race suit and fireproofs were soaked in sweat, and each breath you took was like inhaling fiery hot air. Your chest hurt from the deep breaths you were struggling to take, every muscle and joint screamed in pain, and your brain felt completely fried by the scorching heat.

Glancing around the circuit, the world suddenly seemed to be made of squiggly lines and distorted shapes, and you had to lean on your car for support as you desperately attempted to recompose yourself. You absolutely could not faint right now, you told yourself. Not when all your fellow drivers were beside you, and especially not when the media would be scrutinizing your every move, dying to see you make a mistake so that they could exploit your vulnerability and convince the world that women were too weak to be in motorsports.

So you forced yourself to straighten up, kept your head high – at least as high as you could with how lightheaded you were feeling – and tried your hardest to put on a victorious smile. In your peripheral vision, you could see a figure slowly approaching you, and your smile immediately disappeared when you turned to see the one and only Oscar Piastri.

The man was just as drenched in sweat as you were, sandy hair all messy and disheveled from his helmet as he said to you, “Congratulations on getting P3, y/n.” You scanned his expression skeptically, finding his sudden friendliness rather unusual considering the fact that all the previous exchanges between you two were always snarky remarks and backhanded compliments. You were about to answer him with a quick “thank you” before he cut you off and continued on with a smirk, “Too bad you still finished below me.”

Ah – there was the Oscar you knew and the lame, dry-humored insults you were used to. The smug grin that tugged on his lips made you wish you could just punch it straight off his handsome face. No wait – he wasn’t handsome, this was simply your overheating brain speaking.

You normally would retort with a couple of witty insults and take a few jabs back at him, but with how nauseated you were as well as the pulsating ache wrecking through your brain, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with his antics right now. When you simply walked away from him in silence, Oscar’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and he wondered if he had accidentally stepped over the line with his teasing and made you genuinely upset.

Lando, who was standing nearby and watching the whole interaction between you two, side-eyed his McLaren teammate as he failed to suppress his loud chuckle, “You finally pissed her off, mate?” Oscar shrugged his shoulders, putting on the most nonchalant expression he could manage and replied briskly, “Whatever, man.” He didn’t care if he pissed you off or made you upset. He didn’t care about you, period.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, anyway.

Upon walking away from the two papaya drivers, you stumbled to the table and grabbed yourself a bottle of iced water, finishing the whole thing in a couple of seconds. It did make you feel refreshed and slightly better, but then all you could feel were waves of nausea when the liquid settled into your stomach.

Panic surged through you, you felt worse by the second and nothing seemed to be making you feel better. The loud music and boisterous cheers of the celebrating spectators around you did nothing to help with your situation, and the deafening cacophony was making you feel severely overstimulated.

That’s when David Coulthard showed up with a microphone in his hand, ready to interview the podium sitters and get some insights on today’s race. You tried to subtly dodge the cheery man, hoping to hold off being on camera for as long as you could. To no avail, the man sauntered straight toward you with the biggest smile on his face and all of a sudden, a microphone was handed to you and you were being broadcast on the big screens.

“Congratulations on getting on the podium today! What’s it like getting your third podium in only your first season in F1? Do you feel excited, overwhelmed, or pressured to perform well? And what are your expectations for future races?” The bombarding questions were too much for your overworked body to handle, and the words falling from his lips sounded more like incoherent nonsense than actual words with meaning.

“I – I, uh,” you wracked your brain to come up with an answer, you really tried, but nothing came out of your mouth apart from the constant stuttering. “Umm, you okay there?” David asked with a worried smile, clearly noticing your distressed state – bless his heart – but his question only managed to attract people’s attention to the two of you. As if things couldn’t get any worse, you could feel so many pairs of eyes on you. All the other drivers, journalists, crew members, spectators, everybody was staring at you.

Oscar’s eyes never left you since the second you had walked away from him quietly. He never seemed to be able to take his eyes off you anyway, albeit he would never admit it out loud. And it didn’t take long for him to notice that something was clearly wrong with you. From your indifference to his teasing, your fatigued body stumbling around the pit, to the way your face gradually became paler and paler underneath the flashing lights of the camera.

There was an unfathomable feeling gnawing at his chest as he studied you cautiously, one he couldn’t pinpoint, but this unpleasant feeling propelled him to walk towards you two and interrupt the post-race interview.

“I’m really… thankful for…” your slurred words came to a halt when Oscar leaned into your microphone and said with an apologetic smile, “I think she needs some rest now, perhaps we can continue this later.” David nodded understandingly, knowing just how physically demanding F1 races could be. But right before the cameraman could pan the shot to the next driver, your vision became consumed by black spots and your body felt like it was sinking into quicksand.

You tried staying upright, but you failed to fight the darkness that engulfed you and the next second your limp body was collapsing into the embrace of the boy next to you. Right before you slipped into unconsciousness, you could hear the worried callings of your name and a pair of strangely comforting arms wrapping themselves around you.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, trying to blink away the disorientation as you glanced up at the blinding ceiling lights. Every fiber of your being still ached with exhaustion, but the previously unbearable throbbing in your head seemed to fade into a dull pain instead. “Look who’s finally awake.” You turned toward the voice and your tired eyes landed on your fellow driver, sitting beside your bed in his papaya race suit. “Why are you even here, Oscar?” you sighed exasperatedly, and your headache was already starting to return when you slowly recalled what had happened to you on broadcasted television.

The Australian driver shrugged again, feigning nonchalance while he mumbled something under his breath. You didn’t bother asking him what he had said because your mind was already preoccupied with something else – something that could potentially jeopardize your career in F1 and women’s positions in motorsports.

You were so angry, so disappointed in yourself for fainting in front of the crowd while a camera was pointing directly at your face. You could already imagine all the patronizing headlines about you tomorrow, chastising you and taunting you for fainting after the race.

“F1 female driver fainting – Is it the weather conditions or a sign of women’s physical limitations in motorsports?”

“Y/n L/n passes out after Qatar GP: Do women have what it takes to handle the harsh conditions of being an F1 driver?”

It didn’t matter if the heat was torturous or the humidity was unbearable, it didn’t matter even if you finished P3, because all the world could see was that you, a female driver, fainted. The only conclusion they would be able to draw from this incident was that you did not have what it takes to be in F1. You were too weak, too physically incapable, and you never deserved your seat nor the opportunity your team had given you despite the effort and sacrifices you had made to be here.

Before you even noticed it, your eyes were beginning to sting from the unshed tears of frustration, self-deprecation, and guilt. “I should have known better… If only I had stayed awake for a little longer or fainted in a hidden corner somewhere.”

Oscar’s head snapped up instantly, shocked at the sheer vulnerability lacing through your shaky voice. You were never one to show much emotions as a racer, always keeping a cold exterior in all circumstances, so when he saw your glassy eyes he found himself speechless. He had no clue what to say or how to react, and so he just sat there with the most clueless look on his face.

His face was so meme-worthy that you almost wanted to laugh at him if it wasn’t for how shitty the current situation was. The ever-so-stoic and level-headed Oscar Piastri was at a loss for words because you were crying in front of him. But the humor was quick to fade and replaced by the self-blame and guilt for disappointing your supporters and your team, and the damned tears were biting at your eyes again.

You hurriedly covered your eyes with your palm, rubbing at your eyelids as if doing so could somehow force the tears back into your eyes instead of having to cry like an idiot in front of Oscar. You felt so stupid, so embarrassed, so pathetic – and all of a sudden all your thoughts became blank because you could feel a hand wrapping around your wrist.

Oscar’s fingers were delicate, his gentle feather-like touch causing the slightest flurry of tingle to blossom on your skin when he slowly pulled your hand away from your face. “Don’t rub your eyes. They’ll get swollen,” he whispered ever so softly and released his grip on your wrist, only to reach for your cheek and wipe away a stray tear that cascaded down.

The way your heart quickened its pace at his slightest touch is a secret you will never mention to anyone, one you will take to your grave. The clueless, confused expression on his face had long disappeared, and his eyes were instead clouded with a mixture of emotions you struggled to decipher.

Perhaps the heat had really messed your head up, because suddenly you found yourself wanting to lean into his touch and give into his comforting warmth. There was something about the way Oscar was gazing into you, watching you with such sincerity and tenderness that it made your resolve break, and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to open up to him for the first time ever.

“You don’t understand… they’d give me so much shit for this. They’ll take every chance they get to make me seem weak and undeserving of my place here. I worked so hard to be in my position now, to perform well in races and get on podiums, but my effort will never be good enough for the world.”

Oscar knew what you had meant. It was a cruel sport where people could only remember your last race and every little mistake could cost you your career. Every driver is under constant pressure and scrutiny, especially for women fighting for their places in a male-dominated field.

“Perhaps I’ll never be able to understand your struggles, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that you deserve to be here more than anyone,” he said to you with so much certainty that it made all those awful thoughts in your head fade away momentarily, and you watched him in silence as you awaited for him to continue.

“I know that you trained harder than any drivers on the grid to get your seat here. You keep a smile on your face despite people’s constant doubt and judgment about you, and you fight hard to prove them wrong. You carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders, but you don’t have to be perfect to be deserving of the things you have.”

You wondered if Oscar somehow was gifted with mind-reading abilities because there was no way he could have said all that you had needed to hear so badly without reading your mind.

The constant pressure to be perfect, to excel in each and every way, or else you would be seen as inadequate for the sport. All the sleepless nights you spent reliving your mistakes again and again, wondering what you could have done differently to avoid it because you knew the media was going to have a field day with your errors. And the smiles you forced on your face despite facing the criticism of others as you pretended to be unaffected by their words, but then you go back to your hotel room in tears because a part of you was beginning to believe in their words – you would never be good enough no matter how hard you tried.

“You are worthy of the things you worked hard for,” Oscar whispered hushedly, just loud enough for you to hear and for you to remember. He was unsure where all those words came from – all he knew was that he looked into your crestfallen eyes and just spoke his mind, pouring his entire heart out while wishing he would never have to see you cry again.

It was the first time you had seen Oscar acting like this, without his annoyingly funny teases and inside jokes that only you two seemed to understand. It was the first time Oscar had seen you like this, not putting up that tough facade that only Oscar seemed to be able to look through. You two were simply being you, no lies, no fronts, just you. The silence that hung between you and Oscar was strangely comforting – no words needed to be said.

Oscar would never admit it out loud how much he had wanted to kiss you at the moment, and you would never admit out loud how much you had wanted him to kiss you. He pretended that he wasn’t looking at you with such fondness, and you pretended not to notice the adoration swimming in his eyes. He acted like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest when you reached for his hand, and you acted like your head wasn’t fuzzy with tingles when he silently intertwined your fingers together.

“Don’t get all sappy with me now, Piastri.” “Oh please, you know I would never.”

#f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 #formula 1

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theemporium · 8 months

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Could you maybe write something with Carlos and his wife who's shy and more quiet despite working for the social media team of Ferrari and when fans get a bit handsy Carlos steps in when he notices her discomfort?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

You always preferred to stay behind the camera.

It had always been the case, even since you were a kid. You were shy, a little introverted. You didn’t like it at home when your parents tried to film a few home videos, you didn’t like it at school, you just didn’t really like it at all.

Your fascination came from being behind the camera. In being the one to capture all the moments around you so you could share it with the world. And with a growing love for motorsports ever since you were a young girl, it only made sense that your career and line of work would follow your dreams.

You joined the Scuderia Ferrari team the same year Carlos Sainz was signed on as their new driver, and it felt like fate that you two crossed paths.

It was difficult not to fall for the Spaniard. He lived true to his name and you were practically wrapped around his finger after you two first spoke. Carlos was sweet and kind and romantic, and despite having his undivided attention, you never felt like you were under a spotlight like you tended to feel with others.

Carlos always made you feel safe. He helped you grow, just as you did with him. And it was no surprise to anyone that after a few years of dating, Carlos finally put the ring on your finger.

The irony was never lost on you that despite your shy and reserved nature, the man you married ended up being one of the most photographed and sought out people in the world. He was constantly in front of a camera, and you were more than happy to be the one behind it. And all in all, fans were mostly respectful of your wishes to stay in the shadows.

But sometimes that wasn’t always the case.

Monza was a big race for the Ferrari team, one marked on the calendar and anticipated throughout the season. It was their home race. It was where the fans were the wildest, craziest, most passionate. And the boys were at the middle of it all, the hopes for a good race in front of their most loyal fans.

Carlos had one hand perched on your lower back as you made your way towards the paddock entrance. Both your paddock passes were in your hands as Carlos used his free hand to sign as many photos and caps and shirts as he could.

“Careful, mi amor,” Carlos murmured, his arm winding around your waist to keep you upright as more fans flooded your husband.

“You don’t need to rush,” you told him with a soft smile. “We still have another fifteen minutes before the meeting.”

He raised his brows. “Are you sure?”

“They are here for your, Carlos,” you assured him as you squeezed his hand, before letting him step away and give his full attention to the fans.

However, before you could step away from the crowd like you planned to do, an influx of more fans started pushing forwards to try and catch a glimpse of your husband. They were yelling and shoving and you started to feel hands all over you, and it made you want to crawl into yourself.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes darted around the group to try and find an escape, but it was useless. You tried to ignore the way your throat closed up, a sense of panic and dread bubbling inside of you as more people pushed and more hands touched you, and for a second you were concerned you were about to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

“AY! AY! MOVE AWAY, LET HER BREATHE!”

The crowd around you started to dissipate and soon enough the sight of your husband was no longer obstructed. Carlos quickly moved towards you, his hands cupping your face the second he was close enough.

“Mi amor,” he murmured breathlessly before he wound an arm around your shoulder protectively and began to guide you away from the crowds.

“Carlos,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. “The fans—”

“Can wait,” he finished for you. “I’ll go back later. You’re my priority.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

He paused, looking down at you with a frown on his face. “Do not apologise, amor,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “You’re my wife, you’re my world. Nothing will ever be important to me as you are.”

Your lips twitched. “Many years later and you still make me swoon, Mr Sainz.”

“I like to remind you why you said I do, Mrs Sainz,” he replied with a cheeky grin as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you towards the Ferrari motorhome where you’d be safe from the onslaught of crowds.

#carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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cheriladycl01 · 5 months

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So teach me - Sergio Perez x Trainee F1 Rookie! Reader

Plot: Sergio wants to take a year or two out leaving an open seat in Red Bull and who better for Christian Horner to get besides Red Bull is the Red Bull Trainee who was there reserve driver last year and has been training for this moment.

Credit to dancingmushu for the GIF

"Sergio, are you serious?" Christian asks his second Red Bull member, Sergio had just come to him telling him he wouldn’t be renewing his contract with Red Bull and that he felt 2025 was a good time to take some earned leave from the sport. and not fully retire he had requested to be a mentor for the youth Red Bull drivers. Before he took time with his family, he knew he'd come back in a year or two, but as of now his family were where he needed to be at.

“Yes, I’m being serious. I want to spend more time with my family” he admits. It was getting draining, the travelling back and forth and not seeing his wife and children for weekends on end.

“Okay, but I’m putting you with the hardest piece of work you’ll ever meet in Motorsports, she’s driven to succeed and is a phenomenal driver but she has … well let’s just say she isn’t the easiest person to get along with and she’s put us all through hell. So if you are serious about this, that's who you have to mentor. She's quite frankly the only person I trust to take your place" Christian said, already thinking about how the hell they are going to announce the new line up for 2025.

It was lucky really, Audi were coming onto the scope in 2026, and there was talk that they were keen on giving you a seat since you were doing so well. So maybe this was actually a good thing, as it scared Christian more thinking of you in an Audi than Sergio out of a Red Bull.

"She's in the back, you can go meet her" he advises pointing a pen towards the garage where they stored different components and the spare wheels.

He walked through looking for someone that would potentially be this absolute piece of work that Christian had made you out to be. You from the way described were clearly on the younger agenda of the grid and he knew communicating with you may be hard because of that but what he didn't expect was a complete and utter lunatic.

He took one look at you and assumed you were basically feral, you had your helmet on, stereo in hand walking towards the garage where his and Max's cars were banging your head to the loud and aggressive music.

"Oh lord" Sergio breathes out looking at you, already knowing this would be a long 3 months of him training you.

"Y/N please turn that down! We're trying to work" one of the engineers working on the car complains as he puts the power drill down on the edge, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Arghhh fine Marcino, but you know you love my music" you grinned taking your helmet off. Your curly hair came falling out around it, in messy knots.

"Y/N?" Sergio calls out and looks over to you, he steps forward into the garage and smiles at you extending a hand. You shake it, clearly you had some kind of manners and decorum, he couldn't help but think.

"What's up old man?" you stifle a laugh trying to look as serious as possible.

"Old man? I'm only 34!" he exclaims looking at his hands to see if he could in fact pass himself off as an old man.

"Well, old to me" you smirk, picking up the bottle of squash you'd left on the workbench earlier, taking a quick swig from it.

"So, long story short. This old man is going on leave for a year or two and retire..." he starts trying to explain his situation to you.

"Oh so you are old old" you laugh giving him a pointed look.

"No- look let me finish, I'm retiring my car for a few seasons and for whatever reason Christian Horner wants you to take my seat, but before you do that I'm going to be training you" he offers and you place a hand on your hip, almost daring him to continue.

"And why may i ask do i need you to train me for this?" you asks, obviously you knew he was good at his job. It was Sergio Perez stood in front of you but that didn't mean your demeanor was up to slip and slide and make you look like an incompetent nobody.

"Come on, surly even you know that. I'm the only Red Bull in the last few years that has been able to keep up with Verstappen, you wanna give into the pressure like Gasly and Albon or do you want me to show you how to drive on par with the current world champion" he asks crossing his arms like a strict parent.

"God jheez alright. What do you want? You want me doing pressup's or neck training. Or time testing. Or you wanting me to show you how i can drive?" you ask looking at him.

"You think Christian flew you out to Abu Dhabi as a special guest? No your our test drive for tonight in free practice and you'll be driving my car with Verstappen"

"Oh its on" you say. The engineers step back observing the car.

"Go get into the suit Christian left for you, it'll be your first Red Bull racing suit" he says patting your back making you shrug off.

"Don't touch me bro" you say giving him the side eye before going and changing into your fireproofs and your suit. Navy blue looked good on you, you left with the Red Bull cap covering the face and walking back out to where Sergio had left you.

"You want some help getting in or?" Sergio asks awkwardly, looking at you as you walked round the car, a finger swiping around the halo as you got closer.

"Woah, I can drive the car I just cant get in it alone... that's really interesting how have i survived this long in motorsports its insane" you admit, looking over the car. One of the engineers hands you over your own helmet that someone had made look a little bit more like that off a Red Bull Driver.

"Alright enough with that sarcasm okay?" he frowns, he hands you the steering wheel and you place it in the car, you feel about getting familiar with it.

"Are you ready?" he asks slapping the visor down.

"Yeah" you smile, nodding at him.

You pull out onto the track, Verstappen pulled out after you which felt odd having a World Champion behind you on the track.

"Right, first lap do as normal get a lay for the track and what the car feels like. Then we can do a flying lap" the engineer advises.

You do as he says, testing the track. Your tires were good and the car felt powerful. You come around and some of the others pit, meaning its time for your flying lap.

"Push the car to the max without fucking it for Sergio okay?" the engineer offers, you chuckle a little into the radio finding it funny.

"Why put me in the damn car if you think im going to wreck it, no trust in me whatsoever" you frown, shaking you head a little before putting your foot down.

You were an amazing driver, however it seemed to most that you were fearless and a rather aggressive driver. Suitable to be able to match Max's driving style, however as a rookie you still had your mistakes and over or under judgements that in races would cost you places and potentially put you at risk.

You managed to complete two flying laps by the timer had run out for FP1.

"What are the positions?" you ask.

"Oscar in first, your in second and George in third" making you gasp in shock, you knew you'd drive quick but you didn't think it was top 3.

"Where did you learn to drive like that" Sergio asks you as you hopped out the car. You pull your helmet off and then your balaclava your hair falling around your face in a mess of tangled curls.

"Practice, by watching races? Why?" you say not really sure what else to say. You'd never had like a specific mentor, it was just the radio engineer and the team you were with giving you pointers in the debriefs on how to improve.

"You take angles that you shouldn't far to tight, making your tire management awful. Your aggressive and nearly took out Lando today, because he was slower on the straight. You have lots to learn" he admits crossing your arms. You got to argue back, having disagreed with the prior statements but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"So teach me..." you say leaning against his car.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @peachiicherries

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

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godessanonymous · 5 months

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LN4 - Reporting

Request: No. Genre: Fluff, Comfort Triggers: Sexual Assault (Graphic) Summary: You are a reporter working the F1 Japanese GP weekend, during a interview you get attacked. Struggleing with the aftermath, lando comes by to help you cope.

Not proofread - 2.8k Words

It was a beautiful day at the Suzuka GP during the 2023 season of F1, it was your second year of being a reporter in the motorsport scene, doing content with the teams and even becoming friends with a good portion of the drivers. Specifically the top runners since they were the ones you interviewed the most, even being invited to team dinners along with Lissie and other media personel.

It was a beautiful and sunny day, Max had secured another P1 finish and the McLarens had made it a 2-3. Oscar was still doing a different interview but Max Verstappen and Lando Norris had blessed your booth with their presence, it was loud. Fans all around you as you were set up pretty much in the middle of the paddock. This was a usual scene for you, it was where you felt really in your element, going with the flow of things and especially getting some exciting content done.

Both drivers gave you a big smile when they arrived at the spot designated for them. You hadn’t seen eachother in a week, it would be time for some proper catchup after the media duties were finally done. Since it was warm you were wearing a breathtaking flowery croptop praired with a pair of white pants, the outfit coming together summery yet still professional.

“Good day to the two of you, congratulations on your top finishes today, I hope you are very proud of yourselves. That was amazing to watch.” You started of the questioning as you gave the camera a smile. Behind the camera were only a couple of people, max and landos PR Managers as well as a camera operator and your own manager. Most of the tech part was done in a building not to far from you.

The Paddock didn’t allow too much space for any more people really. The only barrier between you and the fans being a volunteer and some drawn lines on the ground.

You were about half way through your interview and the drivers had been nicely awnsering all of your questions, throwing a joke in here and there.

You noticed the crowd behind you getting louder and a little bit more unsetteled but you couldn’t check, just relying on your hearing. What was going on? Probably just someone causing a little mayhem, Is what you told yourself, trying to focus on the task at hand. You noticed these kind of changes in your environment fairly easily, It was natural to be this hyper vigilant ever since you had been attacked by a mad man at the bar not accepting your decline as he tried to make advances toward you.

You hated to think about what that night did to you, how dirty you felt and how hurt you were. Since then your quick thinking and being able to read situations had saved you more than once. It was good but also tiring to be this aware at any given time in public.

Trying not to get lost in your own thoughts you turned your attention back to the motorsport athletes in front of you. Your next question was specifically for the young McLaren Driver. You took a breath and started your next question, “How does it feel to get a double podium-“ Especially with your teammate still being a rookie, That was how I wanted to end the question but I didn’t get to.

The murmurs of the crowd had gotten alarmingly loud but it was already too late to react. A arm snaked around my body from behind, a hand gripping your hair tightly and tugging your head backwards. Your head was spinning, the painful force of the pull on your long hair making your senses give up on you. Your hearing was gone, yet everything moved so slowly. Both hands of the tall figure attacking you from behind now grabbing your chest and squeezing both your breasts. What was happening?! Your body was spun around, and you saw the ground getting closer to my face, body and mind still somewhat frozen in place as all you could do was watch the asphalt of the paddock street racing towards you. The second your body hit the floor was when the time went back to normal. It was loud, deafening almost. Someone was yelling, people were leaping towards you. The crushing weight of the man still on your body, pressing up against your upper body, knees on your thigh, Pinned down. Your head had hit the floor and ur knees and hands were burning with the sensation of the rough material scraping the skin of the areas of your body taking the impact.

Then all of a sudden the weight on your body was gone, everything hurt. A arm reached for you, you body flinching at the movement. Someone was talking, what were they saying?

“Hey- you? Hey hey y/n, y/n-“ Your name was being called. Your vision starts to clear just enough to make out the two familiar faces looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?” you could finally make out the words. “Im- what. I’m okay..” was all you were able to say. You regained the feeling of your body. Looking around, you could see security making their way towards you.

Next to you was Max, holding down the man that must have been your attacker. He was ugly, disgusting, a disgusting human if you could even call him human. He was more an animal, the way he attacked you. On live TV. The realization that you might still be live hit you like a rock. You scrambled to get up. Your body barely complying.

“Don’t. Let the medics check you out. You hit your head darling.” The firm voice of Lando ordered. “No I’m okay, promise.” Was all you answered.

Security having taken over the violent man from Maxes strong grip. You gave a questioning look to your Manager, “Still live, are you good to finish and then we will stop for the day?”, they seriously wanted her to continue after what had just happened? All you wanted to do was run away, hide and wash the feeling of those rouge hands on your body .

You didn’t have time to answer as the camera pointed back at you. With quick fingers you fixed your blouse, wrapping your arms around the front of your body before letting out a sentence of goodbyes, “I’m sure some of you saw what just happened and have understanding for this interview having to be cut short. I am okay. See you next time.” Is what you managed to get out before the camera stopped rolling with a quiet click. The crew of the interview pierced its way towards the closed of part of the paddock.

As soon as you had arrived in safety, most people left. Max shooting you a sad look as he left. Only your manager, Landos and Lando himself stayed behind as they placed you in a small room. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything. It was like your mouth was glued shut. Memories of your previous experience resurfacing as the fresh feeling of those hands on you still ached badly. “Hey love, its okay, you’re safe. Tell us what you need.” Maya, your manager was the first to speak.

“Home.” Is all you could get out. It sounded chocked like there was someone wrapping their hand around your throat and squeezing it tightly. The room was silent, not even bubbly Lando daring to speak a word has he saw your emotionless body sit there, contemplating everything. They gave you a understanding look and it wasn’t long until you were in the back of a car being taken back to your hotel.

You don’t remember the way up to your hotel room, unlocking the door and thrown yourself onto the floor beside your bed. The images weren’t relenting, the disgusting feeling on your skin making you itch at it in a attempt to rid yourself of the stains of hands and body on your skin. It had made of feel helpless, like you didn’t stand a chance, why did it happen again. Why did that man do that, was it your fault? Had you done something? A rational part of you knowing its not your own fault, but your body feeling like you were the one that had done something wrong. Its sad what society made you believe. Your limbs start to tremble as the panic takes over your body.

You don’t know how much time has passed when your mind finally lets a little loose on the grip it has on your body and flashbacks. You try to sort your thoughts. Shower. That’s all you wanted, to get clean, atleast as much as you could after the events not even 2 hours earlier. The events the racetrack were probably calming down about now. The teams would still be working for a while but the fans were probably slowly thinning out.

Heaving your heavy body of the floor you made your way towards the big bathroom of you hotel room. Clothes being tossed carelessly into a corner somewhere along the way, you grabbed a oversized hoodie and some shorts, something clean to wear after you were done. You felt very empty all of a sudden, no tears leaving your eyes anymore. The hot water of the shower made you feel just a tiny bit better, as you took war to your body scrubbing down from head to toe. The shampoo burning on the cuts on your knees and hands, your head still hurting. The skin of your Chest and shoulders being red as you stepped out of the steamy class cabin. You didn’t have any strength left in you, quickly throwing on the tshirt and shorts before collapsing onto the soft carpet laying in front of the sink. Curling up and drowning in memories again. This time not shaking, not crying… just laying there, existing.

It felt like you’d been laying there for weeks but in reality it must have only been a couple of minutes. Your hair still dripping wet. You snapped out of your trance when you heard the door of your room unlock. Who was it? No one else had a keycard? You were a little scared but also didn’t have it in you to move. Slowly steps moved into the dark room. “y/n? Are you here? Its Lando” The voice of the McLaren driver called through the room. You didn’t answer. Lando must have noticed the lights in the bathroom, the door half way open. You saw his head peek around the corner, hesitating not wanting to invade your privacy.

His heart hurt looking at your slumped figure on the floor. “I’m just here to check up on you after what happened. I’m so so sorry love. Is it okay if I come in?” he asked, something so soft about his voice. A raspy yeah escaped your lips, barely loud enough for him to hear you. He walked in, slowly lowering himself to your vision as he sat down not to far away from you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You also slowly started to lift yourself off the floor, almost getting dizzy as you did so. You took better look at the concerned man in front of you. He had a little first aid packet and some chocolate in his hands.

“Why are you here?” you said, it just slipped out and probably sounded a little more rude than you wanted to. “I wanted to see if I can help you, you looked so hurt when you left, im just incredibly worried. If you need space I can leave but please check in with me or someone else, I don’t want you to do anything stupid.” He said now looking insecure about his decision to come see you. “No. Please stay. I don’t want to be alone Lan.” You choked out before you could stop it. God you felt stupid, like a burden. His gaze onto you softened even more than it already had. “Anything I can do for you?” “Actually yes, can you help me dry my hair? It hurts my hands when I do it..” this was so embarrassing you whised the ground would just swallow you up.

But Lando didn’t bat an eye as he slowly got up and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your head and drying your hair with slow motions, you flinched at the initial contact and he hesitated for a second before he kept going. Once your hair was only left to be a little bit damp he took the towel away and stood up again. “Good?” “Good.” You said satisfied with the result. “Thank you.” You heaved yourself up on shaky legs making your way towards the bed. You sat on the edge. Lando coming out of the bathroom walked over and knelt infront of you.

You shot him a confused look as he pulled out the first aid kit again. “is it okay if I put some bandages on those cuts?” he asked gently. You nodded. “this might sting.” He quickly warned before spraying some disinfectant on the wounds. It stung, you let out a spall pained noise. He looked at you your pain almost reflecting in his blue eyes. “is it okay if I touch you? Just to put the bandage on? You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to touch you?” He said. He actually asked for your constent. Something inside you melted at that, why didn’t everyone act like this. Why did some people take your consent for granted, abuse you and take away control over yourself. Why? You nodded again, and the white bandage soon made contact with the bruised skin of first your knees then your hands. He was so gentle, looking up for your approval before doing anything. He was so cautious, so gentle, it made you want to give HIM a hug. You sat up on the bed, resting against the headboard, scooting over a bit so there was space for lando. After a small thinking break he took the offer and sat down on the other side of the bed.

There was a akward silence for a while, Lando wanting to give you the chance to speak if you wanted too. After a couple of minutes you finally broke. “You know this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me?” He looked at you with hurt puppy eyes. “I feel so disgusting, dirty, I know its not my fault but I also don’t. I can still feel his hands, his body on mine. I hate this so much-“ is all you can get out of your mouth before the flood of tears start streaming down your face. Here you are crying infront of fucking Lando Norris. Yes you were thankful he was there to help you but you never wanted anyone to see you like this. Broken. “Im so sorry love, what do you need, anything I can do to help you right now?” He said, he looked so loving, caring, just wanting to help you. “A hug, hold me for a second please….” You say, he looks at you concerned. But scoots a little closer. Arms open with a tiny smile on his lips. It’s a invitation to initiate contact how you liked it, not wanting to overstep. You gladly take up his inviting gesture, scoot closer and collapse into his arms.

Youre sobbing into his hoodie, head on the young drivers chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. His steady heartbeat giving you something to listen to, to focus on, getting his breathing in sync with your own. His strong arms are now wrapped around you firmly. One hand slowly stroking your hair. Faint, whispered words spilling from his mouth. “Youre safe love. Deep breaths.” And so on. His embrace making you feel safe and protected, slowly, very slowly slowing down your sobbing shaking body into a puddle of soft emotional embrace. You cries slowly but surely die down and he begins softly humming a song you cant quite make out, the vibration of his chest being weirdly soothing. His body radiated warmth as you began to feel more and more tired. “Thank you Lan.” You mumble slowly drifting off. You had never felt as safe as in Landos arms right now. “Always love. You ll be okay I promise. And im always here to help you when you need me.” He answers. Last thing you feel is his hand drawing circles on your back and the hand in your hair slowing down before you both drifted off to the land of the dreams… Sorry this was sad as fuck but it is what it is, thank you for reading my first official one shot :>

#f1 x reader #lando norris #comfort fic #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction

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aechawrites · 1 year

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200mph: part one | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

rating: pg13

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, y/n is a little uncomfy but jimin stays with her like a good bff, brief mention of a racing accident

summary: as jungkook begins the new racing season, a face he’s never seen before quickly catches his attention.

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“I don’t understand why you want me to go, you have guy friends that are interested in that kind of stuff, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point, Y/n. If I wanted them to go, I would’ve asked them by now, but I asked you.”

You sighed, slightly shaking your head at the begging boy in front of you while slowly making eye contact with the ground and lowering yourself onto the foot of your bed. Your arms were wrapped around your upper body and you couldn’t help but let out another huff, contemplating whether or not you should give him a bullshit excuse as to not go.

Jimin has been your best friend since you were young kids, meeting for the first time in elementary school. As you grew up, the two of you became inseparable, always spending time together. And on a typical day you would have loved spending your Friday night with him, that is, up until recently.

As the two of you began college back in the fall, you both started to branch out and try new things. You knew Jimin was going to fit right in with the frat boys and it was reassuring to have someone watch your back at their parties; it made them a little more bearable. What you did not expect was for Jimin to gain an interest in motorsports, specifically street racing.

You had heard him saying not too long ago that some of the guys in the frat house raced occasionally. 'Big money,' he said, but if only you knew just exactly how much those winners were getting paid, as well as the spectators who decided to bet on certain drivers.

The two of you had just gotten takeout and were lying in your dorm room while watching (and making fun of) random reality shows. You had gotten up to use the bathroom just to come back out and have Jimin spring onto you that there was a street race tonight and a couple of his frat brothers would be there racing.

And instead of going by himself and making friends like the social butterfly he is, he of course had to invite you.

Now here you were, brain working overtime trying to come up with some lame excuse to seem busy. But Jimin knew you weren't.

"Y/n, I promise you'll have a good time tonight. It's not as boring as you think. We'll only be there for an hour or two and then we can come back to the dorms," he expressed while softly pouting his lips at you.

"What's in it for me?"

Jimin rolled his eyes at you. "I'll finish your damn English paper, okay?"

Although still reluctant, you agreed to go. As long as this doesn't become a regular Friday night occurrence for you, how bad could it be? It also helped that he gave you the biggest eye smile after you said yes.

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You thought that maybe four to five people would be here racing, bringing a few friends each, but no. Not at all. In fact, the streets were packed like a full house. There had to have been roughly twenty guys standing alongside their expensive muscle cars, engines roaring loudly and echoing through the streets, wheels shining as camera flashes blinded them. There were also probably two hundred people who got their asses up to come out tonight to see these men race. The atmosphere seemed similar to some of the parties you had been to, so it was to no surprise that it garnered a large viewing.

But putting it simply, you were intimidated. It was very crowded and here you were being dragged behind Jimin as he tried to get the two of you closer to the front where the start/finish line was located. Was it really necessary for these large muscular men to keep giving you side eye as you bumped into them?

Had it not been for the dozens of lights and neon signs hung up everywhere, the streets would have practically looked like a ghost town. There was nothing here, close to abandonment, which made for the perfect place. Old beer cans and ashes scattered the ground, you noted that they must have been racing here for a lot longer than you originally thought.

You brought your gaze up, looking around when you noticed there were cigarettes and blunts everywhere. Almost every guy here was either smoking or drinking, sharing with the girls who had draped themselves overtop of them. They were practically naked as they wore knee-high strappy stilettos and those short, skimpy skirts (the ones that stop just below their ass cheeks), paired with either a very cropped tank top, or a V-neck top that rested so low that their breasts would fall out any minute. It was almost impossible not to catch a glimpse of their lacey thongs as they wrapped their arms around the guys' shoulders. Although you knew those guys were enjoying the attention they got, the views being an added bonus.

But what were you wearing tonight? A t-shirt and jeans.

Did Jimin tell you about the unofficial "dress code" for this kind of event? Nope.

You wouldn't have dressed like them even if he had told you, but you also could've worn something even a slight bit more revealing than this! Even if it was a skirt that went mid-thigh along with a tighter top!

You felt a nudge on your shoulder, breaking your train of thought and gaze away from the crowd and closing back on Jimin. His hand was on your elbow as he pulled you closer, leaning down to your ear and started yelling, but you could still barely hear him over the blasting music. "The race is about to start; my pick is Jeon."

"I guess I'll go with him then, too," you said as you smiled back up at him. The two of them had been good friends for a while, so what better choice?

You had heard of Jeon Jungkook, even seeing him around a few times when partying with Jimin. How could you miss him whenever he wore those tight jeans and white shirts that hugged his muscles so perfectly, complementing his tanned skin. And his tattoos! God those fucking tattoos made you want to drop to your knees right then and there for him. It didn't help that he not only had an eyebrow piercing, but also a lip ring that he just couldn't seem to stop playing with. Jungkook is a very attractive man, and you could agree with that whether you were in a drunken state or not.

But you knew Jungkook hadn't heard of you. There was no way. In fact, he never even spared you a glance at any of those parties. His tongue seemed to be always shoved down someone else's throat. The only mutual friend the two of you had was Jimin, but since you both came from complete opposite sides of his life, you were rarely crossed paths with each other.

Yet again, your thoughts were quickly broken, startling you as everyone began to cheer louder; you noticed the guys were now getting into their respective cars. Engines revved as each of their names were introduced, girls fawning and screaming over them.

As everyone moved out of the street and onto the sidewalks, the announcer walked onto the platform, taking the mic. "I want a clean race gentlemen. You know how this goes; first place takes it all. Ready... Set... GO!"

And with that, they were out of your sight as they sped off and made the first turn. From where Jimin had you standing, there were large screens visible on the side of the buildings that showed them from a drone view as they raced through the city. It was terrifying watching as they weaved around each other, just narrowly avoiding a few obstacles that happened to be in the way.

It was easy for you not to lose sight of Jungkook. He stood out by driving the brightest neon blue Chevrolet Camaro you had ever seen, decorated with white stripes down the middle. He also happened to be leading significantly in front of the other racers, giving him just enough time to makes turns a bit more cautiously.

You turned back to Jimin. "How long are they racing for?"

"Usually about 7 miles. Not too long, but just long enough to get a good race out of these guys."

You nodded your head, eyes focusing back onto the screens.

You winced when some of the girls would let out these high-pitched shrieks whenever they saw two of the guys spin each other around, smoke engulfing their cars, but the racing never stopped. It didn't matter what happened or how badly they would place, the race would go on without them.

A few minutes passed by and you could hear the engines becoming significantly louder as they approached the finish line, back where you all stood. The overhead camera still focused on Jungkook as he led the group, but you could see someone quickly coming up from behind him.

You hear Jimin mumble, "Fuck Y/n, if he blocks he might actually win this."

And that he did.

The guy behind was racing aggressively, but Jungkook was able to perfectly block him each time he made an attempt to get around his car, which made for an extremely close photo finish as he sped past the checkered flag. Obviously, all the girls were now cheering even louder than before, starting to run into the street and up to Jungkook as he climbed his way out.

But that's reasonable because fuck did he look so good. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead as his bangs fell in front of his face. That large, tattooed arm of his just had to push the strands of jet-black hair back while a smirk was displayed across his face. He was winking to the girls all around him, once again playing with that damn lip ring.

Jimin pulled you with him to go congratulate Jungkook as they announced his name, but you kept yourself hidden behind his back. This just wasn't your place; you weren't friends with Jungkook, you didn't even know him. Most of their frat brothers were there, high fives and fist bumps being shared between them all, and you stood awkwardly, like you were invading their space.

"Jungkook holy fuck! You're a fucking monster out there!" Jimin laughed as the two of you had shuffled your way directly in front of Jungkook. You had been attempting to stay hidden behind Jimin, but one glance up and now you were making eye contacting with the winner himself.

God, he looked even better up close, those big brown eyes of his displaying so much joy. Maybe a hint of cockiness, too. Just slightly, though.

You, however, quickly looked away, looking anywhere but at him. But Jungkook didn't, he kept his eyes focused on you. Whatever Jimin had been saying became muffled and was going in one of his ears and out the other.

Jungkook was confused. Were you one of Jimin's friends? How had he never seen you before? He definitely would have noticed and remembered you! Were you usually at these races?

He must have zoned out and before he knew it, you and Jimin had started walking away from him as more people tried coming closer to talk to and congratulate him about the win. The girls you had observed from the beginning of the night were now wrapping their arms around him, posing for pictures to post to social media, but he didn't even bother to pay them any attention.

As the night passed by, Jungkook tried celebrating with the rest of his frat house but just couldn't get the picture of you out of his head. Who were you? He made a note to himself to question Jimin once he came back for the night.

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a/n; it's finally here!! i'm so excited for this series and i really hope you are too!!!!! please leave feedback🤍🤍

2023; © aechawrites

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #racing #jeon jeongkook #jeongguk #college #kpop #jungkook smut #bangtan #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)

time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?

word count: 6.6k tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max

Two Months Later

Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was.

He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.

But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there.

Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you.

Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.

He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time.

So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.

Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.

Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.

The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”

She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”

Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take?

He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him?

Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.

If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you.

But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial.

So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t.

No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club.

Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line.

But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it.

So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.

Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life.

And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.

Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed.

But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.

“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.

The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.

But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment.

Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan.

“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke.

The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar.

But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders.

Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.

He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”

Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair.

What he didn’t expect was you.

Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him.

You were standing right in front of him.

You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.

“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”

It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.

A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.

Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling.

He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching.

But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.

If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.

Two Weeks Earlier

You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes.

And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.

You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.

But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.

“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”

You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”

“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him.

Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.

“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”

“Well I didn’t drive it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”

“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you.

Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now.

Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them.

He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.

Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.

“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building.

“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”

It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement.

Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands.

But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work.

Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you.

I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore.

“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”

“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”

“So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”

“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.

But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.

Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”

That’s where you still conflicted.

You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months.

But you needed him gone to get over him.

Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life.

So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.

“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”

Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.

“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.

But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion.

You once loved Lando. How could you not?

You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours.

But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.

He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought.

You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”

“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”

And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally.

As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent.

You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar.

Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.

He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.

“What if things were different?”

You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous.

“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”

He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”

“Asking what if.”

Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”

“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”

There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on.

You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”

Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”

A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out.

So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I also want to apologise.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?”

This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh.

You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.

“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

Maybe he did learn something in your absence.

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.

So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist.

He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this.

You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.

So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours.

You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.

Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.

And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on.

He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.

For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.

“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.

Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you.

“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard.

“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”

“The last race.”

“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.

“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.

“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”

You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.

“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”

This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.

“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?”

You hesitated, “What about him?”

“He wants you there.”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.”

You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.

“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.

You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered.

You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre.

And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you.

So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver.

When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk.

You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life.

When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre.

You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time.

Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried.

“Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added.

Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.

You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-

“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode.

“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you.

He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk.

With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there.

“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”

That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there.

And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing.

But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.

Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms.

“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.

Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.

The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.

Well…

Not everyone.

It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre.

Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it.

Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers.

He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver.

Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.

So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.

Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned.

“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it.

He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.”

Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.

“It was never a competition you numbskull.”

Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”

Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship.

Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards.

Neither was keeping you.

But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there.

Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would.

The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if.

The thing was, though, none of it mattered.

You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before.

why am i crying lmao

and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.

i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??

love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #lando norris one shot #lando norris social media au #lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 one shot #f1 requests #f1 au #formula 1 #holllandtrash

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angsthology · 2 months

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𖤓 intro to camellia ayudisha (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

-> series masterlist

Camellia, oh, Camellia.

She is as pretty as her namesake and as delicate as its petals.

If Jupiter was a hail-storm disrupting one’s lives (the so-called journalists are very dramatic, they should try writing a screenplay instead), Camellia was the gentle breeze in the early morning greeting your skin. If Jupiter has the sky and storm in her control, Camellia was the wind god that has control over whether or not your hair is going to stick to your lip gloss.

Not everyone can understand her beauty but anyone who does has been blessed with the right retinas.

Her presence is one that people debate whether she should be driving at all when she feels like royalty (and let’s be honest, a passenger princess), someone in deserving to the throne under that crown.

She is the person you think of when you hear the phrase ‘pretty girl’. Fitting to her name, she looked like she was hand-picked in the prettiest flower field; sweet dark chocolate-colored eyes under her long lashes (everyone, me included, very jealous of those) — her dark, once black hair turned brown from her continuous sun exposure (especially the one that is in her hometown), her skin that warm-toned tan color. And you could never miss her delicate face, cheekbones high and visible on her round face—(something everyone goes crazy for? Post-race glistens where all of her light makeup is either gone or has become one with her skin giving her face that glow).

When people throw around the term ‘Grid Princess’ it only truly sticks to her and only truly serious with her.

Everyone knows the story, the ‘myth’ of Camellia Ayudisha; had her father not meet her mother, had he not marry her, had he not created Camellia, she would be a princess—well, she’d also be nonexistent but if she did exist—she does, but under different circumstances—she would be.

You get what I mean.

She is how one might say… perfect.

The perfect role model, perfect ‘intro’ of sorts, the perfect woman.

She was, the firs and foremost of ‘her kind’, she set the path for women in motorsports, and there was no one better to do it than her. She is perfect.

Perfect Camellia is the media angel, perfect Camellia would never go against the rules, perfect Camellia would never out-do her teammate in equal machinery. (well, she still did.)

The perfect male fantasy as to what a female Formula One driver should be.

Well, she was perfect to them. For the first three years of her career, she was as well-behaved as everyone expected her to be, she didn’t fail anyone’s expectations. The perfect fantasy.

“WHAT IS THIS? Camellia Ayudisha’s Toro Rosso has overtaken Nico Rosberg in the Mercedes! If she keeps this up for a few more seconds she will be making history as the first ever woman to win a Formula One Grand Prix… Oh my Goodness! SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE! THE CHECKERED FLAG HAS WAVED FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS WEEKEND! CAMELLIA AYUDISHA HAS WON THE TWO-THOUSAND-SIXTEEN JAPANESE GRAND PRIX!” the commentator yells into his mic, cheers following in the background at what just happened.

The crowd was loud with their gasps and cheers, even those who weren’t her supporters managed to had the jaws slack.

Her radio was much worse,

“THAT IS P1! MEL, YOU JUST WON A GRAND PRIX! YOU’RE THE FIRST WOMAN IN HISTORY TO WIN A GRAND PRIX! CONGRATULATIONS! P1 oh I can’t take this, take it in Mel… you’ve just made history.” Her engineer and entire team celebrated in her ears, prompting tears to form in her eyes.

When they heard her voice again, her emotions were contagious, “Demi apa… Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… I did that…” her voice giving away her tears. “I can’t believe it…”

“Oh, you best believe it, this is your day! A day for women and girls everywhere, we all thank you.”

“Okay, Ray, I mean this in the nicest way possible… please shut up.”

And when they thought she was done talking to cry by herself, they were wrong.

“THIS IS FOR YOU MALIQ!” she cried into the radio, saying the words with her Indonesian accent heavy on her tongue.

They’ve just witnessed history live in front of their eyes.

Then there are the luckiest interviewers to have been blessed to get her first few words minutes by the history-maker herself.

Right after she was done getting weighed, Camellia walked over to her post-race interview. Her mouth in a permanent smile, one might mistake her for having just inhaled glue with her entire face.

“Look at you!” the interviewer greeted happily, “You’re glowing!”

She laughed lightly, “First time I’m hearing that. Thankfully not in a different circumstance…” her comment making the reporter and herself crack another laugh.

“No, seriously, you’re beautiful!” she can only smile at the compliment, “I guess winning does that to one, huh?”

She chuckled again, “I guess so…”

All-the-while she didn’t realize the visible tears that had ran down her cheeks, the tears that were still running down.

“Are you crying?” he asked with a light-hearted laugh.

When it came to her attention, Camellia immediately wiped it away and looked at the tear on her knuckle, “I can’t stop it, I swear…” she replied with the same light-hearted laugh.

“You just made history! I wouldn’t be able to stop crying too if I were you!”

It was known from then on, Camellia was not afraid to show emotion, her vulnerability. She took it all with great pride.

Many says she was ‘weak’ but more stated that she was unafraid, she was fearless.

“Wow, look at that, only nineteen-years-old and had just marked her spot in history by winning her first Grand Prix.” The commentator narrated as the dark-haired girl was seen walking towards the podium with the 1st cap in one hand and the other pushing her hair back.

“Even the way she walks, just look at her! So elegant.” As she stepped on the top podium, teeth shining with her smile. So sweet, so beautiful.

“Now let’s hear it for the Indonesian national anthem.”

The smile on her face was the smile no one has seen before — which was saying a lot cause Camellia smiles for ninety percent of her life.

As her anthem plays, she removes her winner’s crown only for it to be replaced with the sun as if she wore a halo as her crown.

To the world, she could’ve done no wrong.

Until,

Ugh, until…

Jupiter Nightshade once again ‘ruined something that was once great’. — the media claimed.

Maybe there was always a flame inside of Camellia that the world had yet to see before ever in her Formula One career, a flame that was only set the season she met the rookie in Renault.

When the rookie won the driver’s championship in a Renault—it triggered something in her.

A rookie… had won… a championship before her. —In a Renault of all things! The first Renault driver with a championship since 2006! That was three histories she made in her first year.

In the early days of 2019, after months-long silence from the driver and her team, emotions and tension bubbled over the internet over their radio silence.

Until eventually, it broke out:

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to leave Red Bull.

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to join Mercedes in 2019.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

The reactions to her move grew opinions from the internet.

One spoke, ‘I need to lie down.’ (me too, and I did kinda) — another yelled, ‘her and Lewis as teammates… SIR LEWIS HAMILTON AND THE PRINCESS, I won.’ (they do look beautiful together, who doesn’t love colonizer and colonizee royals as teammates) — unfortunately another man spat; ‘who does she think she is? Red Bull quite literally boosted her career.’ (she is Camellia and she did everything she has achieved herself, thank you very much and shut the fuck up.) — but when a man speaks (again, unfortunately) another person (as delusionally great they are) says; ‘CAMELLIA AYUDISHA 2019 WDC!’ (I like the spirit and enthusiasm, keep it up, you’re going to need it.) — ‘damn, no more Indonesian colonial times teammates [broken heart emoji]’ (I mean, well. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to that.) — and you obviously cannot forget the ones who is always going to be there for her; ‘I’m glad she left, I did not like the way they treated her there. To hell with that rocket ship, as long as she’s happy and okay that’s all I’m going to need for now.’ (she appreciates that a lot).

I mean, it’s not like any of that will matter, Camellia was known to be chronically offline. A grass-toucher, if you will. But by her profession, you could say gravel-toucher… enough.

Her name eventually became the equivalent to ‘surprise’. ‘Cause somehow, just somehow… she shocked the world again the time 2021 came around.

BREAKING: Audi to join Formula One for the 2021 season.

Carlos Sainz Jr. to drive alongside Camellia Ayudisha in Audi for the 2021 season.

The Royalty, the Flower, L’Angelo; Dewa Ayu Camellia Anisha Primaningtyas.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke @eugene-emt-roe @nikfigueiredo @treehouse-mouse @sadieurlady @trouble-sistar @almostjollypizza + ask to be added (crossed out means i cant tag you)

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x original character #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female character #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 x oc #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x you #tine’s the big three #f1 x original character

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formulapai · 4 months

Text

DAY ONE: ENEMIES TO LOVERS

SEBASTIAN VETTEL

TAG LIST:

@i-wish-this-was-me

@giada-chan

@havaneselover08

@fangirl125reader

As a journalist working in motorsports, essentially formula one, you’ve had the pleasure to meet every drivers, some more often than others. They all come with their quirks and points of view and it’s interesting for both you and the fans to observe this, observe how each of them is different and how they come together around the same passion and same work.

There’s one of them, though, that you find it hard to appreciate and interview. Unfortunately, it’s the one fans prefer to see with you as your dynamic leaves them on the edge of their seat. You really admire Sebastian on track, he’s a great driver and seems to adapt quickly to whatever is coming his way. His cockiness has costed him some problems, so did his pride, but how can you aspire to be a world champion in this sport with no pride pushing you further and further ?

Really, you just don’t like how he acts with you. He’s the one who started it all, during your first ever interview. You were stressed, understandably so, and he saw it. He was still pretty young himself, a little dumb and mean, and decided to tease you not so kindly in front of the running cameras, on live television. He criticized your questions and how you asked them, leaving you dumbfounded and hurt as you still finished the interview, already knowing the amount of hate coming your way when you made a snappy remark back.

It started like this and just evolved into the two of you exchanging snarky words whenever he is in front of cameras with you, about truly anything you could think of. You can’t understand why he turns this way whenever you approach him, you’ve seen how he interacts with others. Sure, he’s still cocky and smart-mouthed, but there’s an underlying kindness in his words and his acts, once that’s not present when he’s with you. Today is no change, although you wish it has been. You’ve had even more hate than usual lately, people commenting on your weight, your hair, even your name in their search of what could hurt you. You didn’t want to face Sebastian and his remarks today because of this, you weren’t ready to face any more hate.

Unfortunately, this is part of your job too and you can’t avoid the driver when you’re the one who has to do his interview following his win. He immediately notices how you’re neither reacting to his teasing nor teasing him and doesn’t push it anymore, strictly sticking to the questions and you’re glad for it. The interview runs smoothly as he observes you carefully, trying to decipher why you seem so closed off today, fidgeting with his sleeves as he’s deep in his thoughts. He finds you shortly after it’s done, stopping you in your tracks as he jogs towards where you’re sitting.

“-Hey, is everything ok ?

- I’m sorry ?

- You weren’t yourself earlier, are you alright ?”

Your face takes an unreadable expression, your eyes meeting his.

“Why does it matter to you ?”

Sebastian frowns, crossing his arms and jutting his hips.

“- Hey, I’m not that bad.

- Yeah, I know.”

He huffs slightly as he realizes you’re definitely not going to answer his worries, deciding to take another approach.

“Come celebrate with us, at the garage I mean.”

Your head snaps up, eyes widening.

“- Why would I do that ?

- Well, you’re pissed off. Partying makes everyone happier !

- I’m.. not quite sure about this.

- Are you coming or not ? Because I’m leaving you sitting here alone if you’re not.”

You grumble and push yourself off the floor, dusting your pants as you follow him. You can’t even see it but you know there’s a grin on his stupid face and it makes you want to wipe it off. The two of you make your way to the garage where you’re meeting everyone before leaving for the club, already hearing them cheering and celebrating. It’s bright and loud and truthfully, it really helps your heart feel lighter and you silently thank Sebastian for bringing you along.

Once in the club, the party goes feral and you’re dancing carelessly, singing some lyrics at the top of your lungs with people you don’t even know. Sebastian is enjoying the night too, drinking and laughing but keeping an eye on you despite himself. So he sees when a group of young people approaches you, sees as your smile fall when one of them talk to you, sees your defeated expression and sees you turn over towards the outside of the club. He jogs to you once again and takes your arm, stopping you from leaving.

“- Hey, hey ! What happened out there ?

- Apparently sending me threats and insults on internet wasn’t enough anymore, they decided to come find me here.

- Do you want me to talk to those fuckers ? Since when has it been going on ?

- No, it’s alright, but thanks Seb. I just want to go the hotel, I think.

- I’ll take you there, come with me. I didn’t drink much, promise.”

And if the night ends up with you kissing him in front of your door, it’s none of anyone’s concern.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fluff

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blorbocedes · 1 year

Text

inspired by @sionisjaune's tags and THIS nico in glasses art by the incredibly talented @movieboyfriend

Becoming a sports psychologist had been easier than Nico expected.

All he needed was a bachelor's, which he already had, and a Masters' degree which took 18 months and submitting a paper on eating disorders to achieve. Board certification was annoying, Nico just doesn't have that kind of time, but the workaround was simply calling himself a 'performance enchancing counselor.' A corner office in Monaco, a shiny plaque with his name on it, and a star studded roster of athletes and C-list celebrities he'd hosted parties for during his influencer days for potential clientele, he was all set.

F1 hadn't been the goal but at the same time... who better than Nico, who knew exactly how motorsport could chew you out? His karting dreams were long over, but the smell of gasoline and burnt tyres and the roar of the crowd is still his forte. It just so happened Formula One decided mental health awareness was totally in style now, and one of their main sponsors held an event on mindfulness and how it can be achieved drinking more Heineken. Having a father for a World Champion is helpful, when it means one has lifetime passes, and this had been a prime networking goldmine; not for the drivers themselves and their fragile egos at the implication of psychological help -- but sliding his practice's embossed gold card in the suit jacket of one Toto Wolff.

Lewis saw therapy as something good and necessary, but ultimately for other people. And then Abu Dhabi happened. And then the W-13. And Toto had mentioned what Keke Rosberg's son was up to, how it could possibly help him out of his slump, and hearing that name after so long made Lewis' usual 'thanks but not for me' die at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm not going to imply whether all your issues stem from trying to make your father proud or ask you about your childhood. I would remember. I was there." Nico had smiled over his thin-rimmed circular glasses, with that knowing sparkle during their first unofficial session and Lewis was sold.

"As long as you don't expect me to call you 'doctor,' man. Jeez, who would've thought? Dr. Nico Rosberg."

After that, every week unless he's in LA, Lewis finds himself in Nico's chic Monaco office. It's not stuffy like a therapist's office; a turquoise wall and Nico's dad's helmet is on a shelf display, a German national Team jersey hanging on the wall, there's even a YouTube million subscribers golden plate. Lewis is sprawled on the bean bag, the sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows hitting in beams, and not for the first time Lewis has to reconcile the kid he knew has grown up into the adult in distinguished glasses and same golden blonde hair in front of him. Nico dresses like he's about to give a TedTalk, in his monochrome tee and blazer combo, and that somehow puts Lewis more at ease.

"The car's been so fucking shit. I'm not here to fight for, what, p10? That's not me. And the team..." Lewis rants, and it's so freeing to be able to call the car shit without adding in how they're improving bit by bit and other optimistic platitudes that don't mean shit in terms of the championship.

"And the team's been prioritizing Russell over you, I can see how that can be a source of frustration." Nico finishes.

"What? No. He's not -- the team's not. I'm saying, it's annoying enough the car isn't where we were promised it was gonna be, and now every week I'm getting asked if I want to retire, like what's this all for?" Lewis is momentarily taken aback by Nico's claim. Is that what people think? The team... well, George has adapted to the car easier and has been finishing above him but he hadn't felt any particular favouritism from the team... Although he's been the one running experimental setups and helping the team collect data while his teammate gets dubbed Mr. Saturday. The seed of doubt towards the team makes him frown.

"You don't want to retire. Not until the 8th." Nico points out decisively, getting up from his armchair to walk behind Lewis where his plants are.

"I don't. Even if no one believes me, apparently." Lewis rolls his eyes, hearing as Nico spritzes his plants. He could've sworn they were fake.

Lewis feels a hand on his shoulder, surprising him. "You're just going to have to prove them wrong. Like you always do." Nico smiles down at him with absolute conviction, squeezing it once, and then the weight is gone; Nico moving back to his chair.

The gesture was friendly, but it makes something flare inside Lewis. Something about Nico, maybe the fact he can open up to him the way he can't even with the team; maybe because Nico knew him before seven titles, before he was anyone, makes Lewis instinctively trust him in a way he rarely does with new people. But Nico isn't new, even if the glasses are. Lewis finds himself wanting to know more, wanting to fill the gap between the years.

"Now, let's go over your daily mindfulness affirmations..."

#his ass is NOT board certified 😂🤣😂🤣😂#I've been watching hannibal again can you tell #Nico isn't a doctor but he also doesn't correct anyone if they call him that...#medical malpractice my beloved #I'm gonna let you guys interpret this one 🫣#my fics #f1 rpf #brocedes #first thing I've written in a hot second 😳 require praise...

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manykinsmen · 6 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/manykinsmen/731692640239796224/if-not-lewis-who-do-u-think-wouldve-been-the

just to add on to this, agree with what you're saying, and I find it not funny exactly that it was almost a Jenson Nico line up, when Brawn were changing to Mercedes, Jenson said he would've stayed if they could promise a car with a similar performance, but when Brawn switched over, Mercedes wanted an all German driver line up, hence why they brought Schumacher back and we had Nico/Michael for 3 years and Jenson ended up at McLaren

I do think a Jenson and Nico line up would've been interesting, I don't think Jenson would've played the sort of stress and mind games that Michael did to Nico (at least none of Jenson's teammates have ever said he was like that, that I know of)

Jenson was a dream of a teammate to have (which makes Lewis causing pretty much all the Britclaren drama all by himself very funny). As much as Jenson was prone to pranks, it was cross-grid and never singled out his teammate. He also had some absolute nightmares of teammates early on his career, including:

- Ralf Schumacher, his first teammate, a walking red flag and very big on the psychological warfare, totally unnecessary with a rookie he was greatly out-scoring.

- Jarno Trulli who was a good egg but so much favoured by Flavio Briatore that even though Jenson outperformed him, Flavio fired Button and declared Jenson “just a lazy playboy” (he was replaced by Alonso).

- Jacques Villeneuve who said he should be in a boy band, not F1, and refused to speak to him. (We can read a lot into his gentle bullying of Nico for being pretty - probably that he was projecting anxieties from when he came into F1).

These were all people that Jenson extended kindness to, despite receiving nothing in return. He eventually even won over some of them (including Villeneuve). In the same circumstances, most rookie/early career drivers (including Lewis) learn to give as good as they get but Jenson really took the Waymond Wang approach to it and used kindness as his defence. He also lent into the playboy thing and made some unfortunate comments about potential female F1 drivers he had to walk back later in his career.

But the teammate who had the most influence on Jenson’s teammate persona was probably Rubens Barrichello. Rubens was eternally polite and deferential (somehow avoiding the Brazilian drinking water) and the ultimate grid-Dad, willing to sacrifice his race to support Jenson and the team. Seriously Barrichello was grid dad to:

- the entire Brazilian mafia as we used to call them (Massa, Da Matta, Bruno Senna, Lucas Di Grassi)

- Nico Hulkenberg and Christian Klien

- Pastor Maldonado

- Jenson himself

This had the effect of turning Jenson into a pretty impressive grid-Dad to Checo and K-Mag. In fact, all of these people who had the chance to be grid Dads have been great grid Dads and even produced further grid Dads (Rubens-Felipe-Valtteri-Zhou is a chain).

He ended up being pretty guarded when Lewis was his teammate (bitch tweeted his telemetry!) and had a very much laugh it off approach to attempts at psychological warfare. There was never a chance of being a grid-Dad to Lewis who had learnt from the Alonso school of hard knocks to bite and scratch, and couldn’t identify when it wasn’t necessary.

So yeah, Jenson was basically the best teammate you could get on the grid of that era, other than maybe Heikki Kovalainen who is the kindest, most sportsmanly, lovely and calm human that motorsport has ever produced. I still remember watching him calmly extinguish his own vehicle in the tunnel in Singapore (the marshalls couldn’t get there so they passed him a fire extinguisher), waving to the fans once he was finished. Jenson might have done some gentle pretty-boy ribbing but other than that he would have been a nice guy to be paired with, for Nico or anyone.

#nico rosberg #jenson button #lewis hamilton #rubens barrichello #ralf schumacher #jarno trulli #jacques villeneuve #heikki kovalainen

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acrosstobear · 1 year

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Mick’s Diary: Life as an F1 Reserve Driver

Hi everyone and welcome to my diary!

Over the season, I’ll be keeping you up to date with how we’re progressing trackside and at the factory, and some insight into what I get up to away from racing. So, here’s my first entry.

Since I joined Mercedes, I’ve been settling in great. Everybody is just so open-minded towards me, and that made me feel welcome from the first moment I stepped into the factory in Brackley. I’ve spent a lot of time there in these first months. It’s a very impressive facility.

I visited it back in 2014 as a young driver and was even sneaking in the simulator then, but everything is a lot bigger now than it was then! It is a state-of-the-art facility, very impressive in how things are structured and how every detail is thoughtfully taken care of. I’m still getting used to the level of preparation that you see here, and I am trying to soak up as much information as I can. Also, there’s still a lot of people I haven’t met but it’s been fun getting to know as many colleagues as I can.

My main focus up to now has been working in the simulator. Because I have raced a car under this new set of regulations, I have a good understanding of how to drive them. That has helped me in my role so far and hopefully added value for the Team. I will look to be an extra pair of eyes and resource to help with the development programme across the year.

The simulator team have been super kind to me and great to work with. It’s impressive to drive the sim because it’s just so advanced, and I have been pushing to do more. It’s not enough for me to just sit on the side-lines, I want to be helpful wherever I can. Of course, it’s not the real thing and I would love to be driving the W14!

It's also been fascinating working with Lewis and George. It’s an interesting period for me as I get to look over and work with two fantastic drivers, which you don’t always get to do. I’ve learned a lot about what’s important in terms of approaching race weekends; I feel like I’ve already gained so much knowledge to add to my skillset. I didn’t think I would have learned and gained so much so early into my role.

As a driver, you usually do not get to hear what is going on between all the engineers while you are out on the track, so listening in during the sessions has been extremely interesting. I was quite shocked at the season opener in Bahrain, I did not expect the sheer amount of exchange that happens.

You don’t know what you’re missing until you are actually part of it. What I really appreciate in working with those engineers is that they are genuinely listening to you and your opinion matters, and what is special from an emotional side is that many people who are working for the Team now were working here when my dad was driving.

Whilst we’ve all been working hard, it’s important to keep a balance and get some downtime. I went out early to Australia and went surfing. I wouldn’t say that I’m a great surfer, but I have to say that I have come to love it and I feel it is not just for fun but also very helpful for training. Even at home in Switzerland I do a lot of surfing. Yes, this may sound strange when speaking of a country that’s not famous for its beaches, but we have a surf spot close to where I live.

It can’t beat the adrenaline rush of motorsport though and I’m excited to get back to Brackley and continue our work. We’re working through quite a lot of simulator sessions before the next race in Baku so we will do some virtual mileage and be pushing hard to bring performance to the car.

To finish my first diary entry, I wanted to speak directly to you, the fans. Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome to the Team, and for the support you’ve shown me. It’s no secret that I would, like any driver, love to be out there racing. My current role though is helping me grow and develop, which is great.

#mick schumacher #mercedes #f1 #formula 1 #SWEETHEART

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totowlff · 1 year

Text

chapter one — wasting precious time

➝ after a completely disastrous date, cassie makes a decision that will change her life

➝ word count: 5,1k

➝ warnings: swearing

➝ notes: this project is something I've been developing with @formationlaps and it's one of the things I've been most excited about in recent days. a warning, just for context: the story takes place in 2017, and the chapters do not have a regular time gap between them, as in star-crossed. we hope you like it as much as we do!

It was a very dull Friday afternoon, and Cassie was trying to finish up work for the day, not that there was very much going on. She had a slide deck to finish up, and some copy from one of her coworkers to proof, but none of it was urgent. She played with her necklace — a small silver charm with an engraving on it — as her mind wandered, trying to imagine what her plans were for the weekend without a race to watch.

She worked in marketing for a motorsport racing team. Not just any racing team, the three-time double world champion Mercedes AMG Formula 1 team. She was going on her 7th year with the team. She started with the team as a marketing intern right after she finished her degree at Cambridge, soon after the Brawn GP team was purchased by Daimler and became Mercedes GP.

Cassie remembered her parents being horrified, not only at the fact that she’d joined the management course at Cambridge instead of just doing the Classics course like was when she’d started university, but at her getting an internship, and even worse, a job.

She was living the kind of life her parents dreaded her living; she was 35 years old, single, and had no children. But, she had built a life she’d liked, which was the only thing that mattered to her. She had a great job that she loved, an adorable flat in Oxfordshire, a good group of friends, and an active social life. She traveled quite a bit, too. She didn’t have much of a relationship with her family anymore, aside from an aunt, and her younger sister. She went on occasional dates, but hadn’t found the man she wanted to be with forever. She’d broken up with her last serious boyfriend going on three years ago.

Cassie was distracted by her phone vibrating on her desk. She flipped it over to check her notifications, and saw that she had one from Tinder. She hated dating apps, but that seemed to be the way to meet people nowadays. Once in a while, though, prospects were promising. She was most recently talking to a man named Peter. He was a few years older than her, but he was kind and funny, and they seemed to have a lot in common. They’d been messaging each other regularly for the past week, and their conversations had gotten surprisingly deep for a dating app. Cassie had really taken a liking to him already, and looked forward to seeing his messages. They hadn’t met up yet, but the message he’d just sent was him asking her if she wanted to meet for dinner the next night.

“I made a reservation at Pierre Victoire”, he wrote. “For 6pm, tomorrow night, so I hope you like French food.”

“I love it,” she wrote to him. Truth be told, she had no strong feeling about it either way, but she liked this guy, and really wanted their date to go well. Despite what she’d thought about her parents’ prescribed plan for her life, she had been thinking lately that finding someone to settle down with would be nice, and so would starting a family of her own. As long as her potential partner respected her independence, and the fact that she liked her job. She was never going to be a stay-at-home mother; she liked her job too much for that, and had worked very hard to get as far as she had.

Peter seemed to fit those requirements.

The next day, Cassie spent the morning lounging around her apartment, answering a few emails and tidying up a bit, washing the dishes from the night before and putting the clothes she had used during the week in the wash. She exchanged a few messages with Peter, who said he was looking forward to their meeting later. Cassie couldn't deny that she was starting to feel butterflies in her stomach.

During the afternoon, she devoted herself to preparing for her date. She drew herself a bath spending a while relaxing in the warm water mixed with the lavender bath salts she loved. After her bath, she put on some makeup and styled her hair, pulling it back into a relaxed ponytail.

The hardest part, in Cassie's view, was choosing an outfit. She had to pick something that didn’t clash with her bright red hair, and something appropriate for the restaurant. The bistro they were going to wasn't luxurious enough to require formal wear, but at the same time, she thought she should wear something nice, different from her usual work clothes, or the t-shirts and ratty jeans she liked to wear that her mother had always abhorred.

In the face of such doubts, there was only one person she could count on.

She picked up her phone from her bed and tapped the screen a few times until she found the name she was looking for. It didn't take long for the face of Helena, her sister, to appear on the screen.

— What's up, Cassie? — Helena said — Everything ready for your date?

She smiled at her sister.

— Not really. I’m actually calling you to talk about what I'm going to wear.

— Are you asking for an opinion? That’s unexpected. Usually you do whatever you feel like doing. Hang on — Helena said. She turned her face to the side and said something to someone off-camera. It was probably Jack, her husband.

— It's just… The restaurant is casual, but not too casual, you know?

Helena scratched her chin.

— Perhaps you could wear a dress?

— In this cold?

— That’s what tights are for, Cassie — she laughed, before saying something to her son, Icarus, who looked like he was trying to grab at something he shouldn't.

After they discussed a few options, she decided to wear a moss green knit dress, paired with thick black tights and tall black leather boots. It would go well with her black scarf and the black peacoat she had. Helena wished her luck and ended the call, to let Cassie finish getting ready.

The restaurant was fairly close to Cassie’s flat, so she didn't have to leave long in advance. After driving around a bit looking for a place to park her car, a silver Mercedes-Benz CLA 250 leased on the company’s generous leasing scheme, she managed to get a space in front of the Royal Air Force office in Oxford, walking the rest of the way to the restaurant by foot. It wasn’t far, but she was grateful that she’d opted not to wear heels.

As soon as she entered the establishment, she found Peter sitting at one of the tables against the wall, just below a painting of a pastry chef, scrolling through something on his cell phone. Walking over to where he stood, Cassie felt butterflies in her stomach.

— Peter?

The man stood up, smiling.

— Good evening, Cassie. It’s very nice to finally meet you in person.

She sat in the chair across from him, slinging her purse over the back of the chair.

— You look very beautiful. More beautiful than in the pictures.

— Thanks. You also look very nice.

They chatted for a while before a waiter approached them and asked if he could start the service.

— Yes, no problem — Peter replied — Oh, and the wine, as well.

The man nodded and walked away from the table, causing Cassie to raise an eyebrow.

— He's not going to bring out the menu so we can order?

— No, no, I've already done that.

Cassie blinked.

— You already ordered for us? — she asked, skeptically.

— Yes, I already placed our orders, just to make things a bit easier. You don’t mind, right? After all, I'm the one paying.

She felt her heart sink inside her chest.

— No, no, I don’t mind. I just wanted to know what they really served. I trust you. After all, not many people don't like pineapple on their pizza around here — Cassie replied, trying to lighten the mood.

“I shouldn't have trusted him”, she thought, as the waiter brought the two plates of escargot and placed them on the table.

She hated escargot. She hated it to the point that she threw up at a dinner party put on by her father when she was a child. The dinner was in honor of a French businessman who had visited the family's country home in Chichester to buy some racehorses from her father. Cassie was quickly sent away from the table and went to sleep without dinner that night, as punishment for causing her family such embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, she took a sip of white wine and picked up the tongs and fork. Cassie couldn’t refuse and risk the slight to Peter, who had probably chosen the dish to offer the most French experience possible. Scooping the contents out of the animal's shell, she felt her stomach churn. “Come on, Cassie, it's not that bad. Just focus on the garlic”, she thought to herself, lifting the meat to her mouth.

The earthy flavor, mixed with butter and garlic, was the same as she remembered from that fateful family dinner. Taking two bites, she swallowed the snail practically whole, trying to push away the memories that kept coming back to her mind.

— Very tasty, isn't it? — Peter said, smiling — I love escargot.

— I do too — she lied, scooping out the contents of another shell and bringing it to her mouth. “Only five more to go”, Cassie thought to herself, trying to suppress the urge to gag or vomit.

She managed to eat the rest of them with the help of a few generous sips of wine — at least the wine was good — and almost cried with joy when the waiter took away the escargot plates. Drinking some water to cleanse the awful earthiness from her palate, Cassie was taking in the surroundings when Peter cleared his throat.

— Well, since we're here, nothing better than taking the opportunity to get to know each other better. You went to university, right?

— Yes, I studied Classics and Management.

— Two very different areas.

— Yes — she laughed — My parents are pretty traditional, so they wanted me to study Classics, but during my third year, I decided to shift to management and marketing.

— Interesting. Why the change?

“I better not start talking about my parents now”, she thought.

— I just found it a little dry. A little dated, I suppose.

Peter smiled.

— And you preferred something more contemporary?

— Yes — Cassie replied with a smile — And I’m glad I did, because I ended up with a job I love.

— Where are you working?

— At the Mercedes F1 factory, in Brackley.

He picked up his wine glass, nodding without much enthusiasm.

— Interesting.

The conversation continued until the main course arrived, filets of sea bass served with sautéed chorizo, crushed new potatoes, wilted spinach and chive beurre blanc. “At least it looks appetizing”, she thought, taking a bite of fish. After a few seconds of silence, Cassie decided to break the silence.

— And you, where do you work?

Peter looked up at her.

— I'm a solicitor. I work in an office right here in Oxford.

— That's cool — Cassie said — Did you go to uni here?

— No, I went to Queen Mary, in London. But I came here to sit for a specialization and ended up quite liking the city. I expect to be here for the rest of my life, or most of it — he replied.

— And what do you see your life looking like here in Oxford? — she asked, spearing a potato with her fork.

— Ah, I believe it would be working my way up my law firm, with my wife at home, taking care of our children.

Cassie blinked.

— Staying at home?

— Yes, but it would be something discussed with her, not imposed. It's just that, personally, I wouldn't want to see my partner working outside the home, especially in very… Masculine environments.

— Masculine environments?

— Yeah, like law firms, engineering firms, architecture firms… Formula 1 car factories.

Cassie dropped her knife and fork on the table rather loudly.

— Do you have a problem with my job? — she snapped.

Peter was staring at her, his expression slightly shocked, mouth agape

— No, not at all, I even like Formula 1 a lot. I even think that new kid from Mercedes, as he is called… He won his first race last year, in Spain…

— Max Verstappen?

— That's right, Verstappen, I think he's a good driver, I like him a lot. I just think it's a very… Masculine environment and I wouldn't feel comfortable if my partner worked there.

— And you expect your hypothetical partner would quit her job for you?

— Well, if she loved me, I believe she would.

She couldn't help but let out a wry laugh.

— What if she wanted to stay at her job?

— Then we would have a problem, because I wouldn’t want my partner to not be at home, keeping the house, instead of traveling around the world, leaving me to take care of the children. Especially with so many men around.

— You mean you wouldn't trust your partner? Even if she loved you?

— There's no use in love, commitment is what is necessary. For me, commitment is supporting my career by being a good wife to me and a good mother to my future children.

—So, you require your partner to be committed to your dreams and wishes, but you are not committed to hers?

He didn’t answer.

Cassie took the glass in front of her and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp. Then she removed the cloth napkin from her lap and stood up, grabbing her purse from her chair.

— Where are you going? You haven't even finished your dinner…

— Honestly, Peter, if you had just told me you were a sexist asshole when we started talking, it would have saved us both a lot of time, and saved you some money — she said loudly, drawing a few looks.

— Cassie, I don't…

— Working in a male-dominated environment does not make me any less worthy than any other woman — she continued — I am very proud to work at Mercedes and proud of us being three-time double world champions. Not that you understand anything about Formula 1, do you?

— I do, I watch the Grand Prix every weekend…

— Then you would know that my team's drivers are named Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. Max Verstappen races for Red Bull, and I’d hate it if he raced for Mercedes.

Peter's face was red, eyes scanning the room, seeing the other diners staring at them. People were starting to whisper.

— Cassie, would you sit down so we can have a civilized conversation?

—Is it really possible to have a civilized conversation with a man who thinks a woman's place is in the home, cleaning, cooking, and giving birth? — she said, raising her voice very intentionally — A man who doesn't care about the opinion of the woman he has dinner with?

— I didn't say that, Cassie.

— You didn’t have to say it! You simply decided what we were going to eat instead of asking my opinion!

— I decided on our menu because I know French cuisine and you don't...

She gave a sardonic laugh.

— How do you know I don't?

— Well, I assumed…

— I grew up holidaying in France! I've had more croissants in a year than you’ve probably had chip shop platters in your entire life!

Peter was staring at her with a shocked expression.

— Cassie, please…

— What? — she screamed.

— Let's talk in a more private place, more calmly…

Cassie knew that tactic. Her ex-boyfriend used to use it on her all the time. He would suggest that they go talk privately, so he could isolate her and talk down to her, making her seem like she was the unreasonable one.

“Not today”, she thought.

— You know what? Go fuck yourself, Peter.

She practically stomped out of the restaurant, slamming the front door quite abruptly. She didn’t even stop to put on her jacket, carrying it under her arm. Outside, the cold wind was buffeting against her, but Cassie couldn't care less. The irritation coursing through her body was enough to keep her warm. She arrived at her car, got into the vehicle, and took a deep breath.

Then she punched the steering wheel three times, getting all her anger out.

— Asshole, asshole, asshole! — she repeated, anger permeating her voice.

After a few more punches to the steering wheel and a few minutes of deep breathing, she felt better. She drove back to her apartment in absolute silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on.

Cassie arrived back at her apartment, peeling off her boots by the front door and kicking them off with little care as to where they landed. She dropped her purse on her coffee table. Before she sat down on the couch, she went to the fridge, spotting what she was looking for right away — an unopened bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d bought on her last shopping trip. She took a wine glass — an actual white wine glass, because she had separate glasses for reds and whites — out of her pantry and poured it with a fairly heavy hand. The glass was far fuller than would be proper, but she wasn’t sure she cared.

“Ah, fuck it”, she thought, pouring it almost to the top.

She didn’t drink regularly, even as a means of relaxing, but after such a horrific date with someone that she had such high hopes for, who turned out to be the latest contestant in the competition for Oxford’s Worst Man, she figured she deserved it. She pulled a large packet of crisps from her pantry and plopped down on the couch, taking care not to spill her wine.

Cassie had intended to watch a film until she went to sleep — perhaps Love, Actually, never mind that it was a holiday film and Christmas had been two weeks ago, or Amélie, which she first watched in Year 11 with a French girl at school, but instead, she’d picked up her phone and started scrolling through Instagram. Despite working in marketing, she didn’t like posting much, but she did like to lurk and look at other people’s posts. She followed people she knew in person, of course — friends, some coworkers, people from other Formula 1 teams, and even complete strangers.

She took a healthy gulp of wine and started scrolling as she munched on the crisps. Sauvignon blanc and Walker’s Cheese and Onion crisps probably were a pairing that would make her parents and their friends faint, but she didn’t care. She’d seen news reports about birth rates around the world falling to record lows, but Cassie would’ve never guessed that was the case, looking at her Instagram feed. It seemed like it was an endless stream of adorably-staged pregnancy announcements with sonogram pictures and tiny pairs of shoes, pictures of small children with birthday cake smeared over their faces, pictures of children meeting Santa.

Cassie never managed to watch anything that night — instead, two glasses of wine down, she was still scrolling through Instagram, with tears streaming down her face.

She was never sure she wanted children. For a long time she didn’t, because her parents had expected her to start having them after finishing university and finding a suitable man to marry. By the time she finished university, at the institution they’d selected for her, because several generations of her family had attended, she wanted nothing to do with marriage or children. She’d studied management in her third year, which her parents did not approve of, and found that she’d had quite the talent for marketing. She took on an internship, ending up at a company where, for the first time in her life, nobody knew who her parents were, nor did they care. It was refreshing. The job was very interesting, and she was good at it, so when she was offered a permanent position after her internship ended, she jumped at the chance. She’d been at Mercedes ever since.

“Did I actually not want children, or did I just not want to give my parents what they wanted?”, Cassie thought, slugging back the last of her wine. She wiped the tears off of her cheeks and closed Instagram. It was only making her feel worse.

She looked at her clock, and realized that it was almost midnight — time to go to bed, anyway. She lumbered around her apartment, unsteady on her feet while going through her nighttime routine — brushing her teeth, washing her face… Drinking a tall glass of water and some paracetamol, as she knew she would certainly have wine-related regrets in the morning.

She changed into her pajamas and laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting her thoughts unspool in the darkness.

For a while now, she’d felt like there was a big gap in her life. Until now, it wasn’t obvious what. It was just something whispering in the back of her mind, lurking on the periphery. She had plenty of friends, she was able to travel — she’d actually recently gotten back from a holiday to the Swiss Alps, where she’d spent Christmas and New Years’ with some friends — but maybe coming back to her dark, empty flat every night after work was starting to wear on her. She didn’t really need, or want, a partner, especially if most of the available dating pool turned out to be like Peter, but her mind was starting to change on wanting children.

And she could handle raising a child, even alone. She had a well-paying, stable career, the benefits were generous, Mercedes offered maternity leave and some sort of childcare stipend scheme. And medical science being what it was, she didn’t even need a partner. She’d seen a documentary about the in-vitro fertilization process — it didn’t seem pleasant or easy, but it could work. She’d have some eggs collected, fertilized with donor sperm, they’d put the egg back in, and boom — nine months later, she’d have a baby! She could even pick the father out of a catalog, which certainly sounded better than finding one on a dating app, considering the one that came from the catalog wouldn’t be around to make her feel worthless and miserable, like Peter likely would have, and like Callum did.

Callum was the last serious boyfriend she had. They’d broken up three years ago. He was very handsome, with striking blue eyes and straw-colored hair. He was intelligent and kind, and he made her laugh. He was a fantastic cook, and had incredibly soft hands. She’d known him from university, and their paths happened to cross again when he took a job as a laboratory researcher and instructor at Oxford University. He was an astronomer, and did things with telescopes, lots of maths, and old computer systems that Cassie didn’t really understand, but they bonded one night when he snuck her into an observatory at Cambridge. He turned on the planetarium so they could “stargaze”, looking at stars and constellations. She told him the stories of the figures from Greek and Roman myths they were named for. They shared their first kiss under the fake starry sky that night, but ended up losing touch after graduation. He got a job at Oxford University, and, knowing she lived and worked in the area, looked her up. They reconnected and ended up dating for a long time, and were to the point of discussing engagement and marriage. She had even given him a key to her flat, and he would stay over frequently. He gradually started becoming controlling, interrogating her about all of her comings and goings, telling her that she had to stop talking to certain friends, questioning her about anyone she interacted with.

Meanwhile, he would be out until all hours of the night, even when he wasn’t in the lab, without so much as a phone call to tell Cassie he’d be out, so she would worry about him. He was spending time with “the boys” — so he said. When she confronted him, Callum made her believe she was being selfish and trying to control him, while also calling her a bunch of very nasty things. They began to have fights regularly, until one day, she broke down and cried at work when he’d called her in the middle of the day to scream at her over some WhatsApp messages he’d found on her laptop. He’d come to her flat while she wasn’t there, for God knows what reason, and had guessed the password to her computer. She’d been talking to a friend of hers about what to do about him, and she encouraged him to break it off with him.

She tried to remain calm, lest she look unprofessional, as her desk was in the middle of a floor filled with other cubicles, so she ran to find an empty conference room for some privacy. Callum screamed at her, she screamed back. Her emotions got the better of her and she started sobbing. Cassie realized that Callum was trying to control her, just like her parents had when she was younger. She yelled at him to get out of her flat or she’d call the police, and then hung up. She continued to cry, until she heard the door to the conference room opening behind her. She whipped around to see, to her horror, Toto Wolff, the CEO and owner of the company, walking through the door.

— Toto! I… Uh — Cassie stammered, trying desperately to scrub the tears from her eyes.

— I’m sorry, I thought this room was… Oh, no… Are… Are you okay? — he said, concern filling his brown eyes.

— Sorry, I… I just had something personal come up and wanted some privacy, I’ll go back to my desk now — Cassie said, hurrying to get up from the chair she was sitting in.

— No, I’m sorry, Cassandra, take all the time in here that you need, I can find another conference room. Unless… Is it something I might be able to help with? This might be too forward of me, but, you know I’m happy to talk to anybody here who needs someone to talk to, whether it’s a work-related matter or not.

Cassie sighed as she walked to the door, stopping in front of Toto.

He’d started on as team principal and CEO a year after she’d been hired on permanently. Cassie didn’t interact with him one-on-one on a regular basis, usually only in marketing meetings with the rest of her team. She was not one of the people that regularly traveled to the actual Grands Prix. Her direct boss, Victoria, did, and she and the other people that did always spoke very highly of him.

Her interactions with him had always been positive — he was always very friendly. The company had changed dramatically after Toto, and his business partner, Niki Lauda, took over for Ross Brawn, and for the better, in Cassie’s opinion. Plus, he was, also in Cassie’s opinion — and the opinion of pretty much everyone else in the company — rather easy on the eyes.

He was tall and lean, but had some muscle, especially on his arms and shoulders. He had a handsome face with a strong jawline and a very distinctive nose. He had dark brown eyes that always looked warm and kind, and thick brown hair that he was constantly running his hands through, especially when he talked to reporters. He had a voice that was deep, but gentle at the same time. He had an excellent sense of humor. He was from Austria, and had an accent that Cassie always thought was charming, especially when he couldn’t remember a word in English and had to try and explain it in German. It was well-known that he was single and didn’t have any children, but nobody in the office could figure out why.

— No… It’s silly. Just… Relationship stuff — Cassie said, averting her gaze to the gray carpeting on the conference room floor.

— Hmm… It doesn't seem like it’s something silly if it’s making you so upset — he turned back toward the door, holding it open for her — Come with me. We’ll go downstairs and we can talk about it over some coffee… If you want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t feel comfortable doing so, but you certainly look like you could use a break, in any case.

Cassie looked at him skeptically.

— You don’t have a meeting, or something? Isn’t that what you were looking for an empty conference room for?

— Well — he said, a mischievous look coming over his face — Not exactly. I thought I heard someone crying as I was coming down the hallway, but wanted to give myself… What do you call it… Plausible deniability?

Cassie laughed, and walked out of the room behind him.

They sat in the small coffee bar in the employee canteen for a while. It was the first one-on-one conversation she’d remembered having with him, at least for an extended period of time. She was a little nervous about it at first, but found herself becoming more and more comfortable in Toto’s presence, to the point of eventually telling him about her relationship woes. Hearing about Callum’s behavior horrified him.

— I know I am not what you would call a relationship expert, but I think you definitely need to end it with him. Change the locks to your flat, block his number, everything. And please, take a day off if you need to get it all sorted out — he said. He also mentioned some resources that the HR department kept on file that could help if things escalated.

Luckily, things did not escalate, and she broke things off with Callum that night. She did take Toto’s offer of a day off to sort things out, including changing the locks. One positive thing did come of it, though — even though Toto was technically her boss’ boss, he’d become something of a friend to Cassie, always making it a point to say hello and chat with her whenever he was onsite at the company’s Brackley headquarters. They started getting coffee regularly, too. Thankfully, she never had to talk about anything so dire as Callum again.

— Stupid Callum — she said, to no one in particular. The walls of her flat had no response for her.

“Great, now I’m talking to myself”, she thought. “Maybe I should just get a cat instead. It would certainly be easier”.

She rolled over and set her alarm on her phone for the next morning — 11am. It was Sunday, and she felt like she’d need a bit of a lie-in, especially after having so much wine.

Just before she fell asleep, Cassie opened the Notes app on her phone and made herself a reminder.

“Look into the IVF process/doctors in Oxford”.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #wlffog #collab #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #etlwlff

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

Hello, I hope you’re having a great day!

I wanted to put in a request for a daniel x sunshine blurb. How would they deal with jealousy? Like maybe someone new that works for the team starts blatantly flirting with sunshine, how would daniel react?

Thank you so much for supplying us with all of the amazing daniel content 💞

aw thank you! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

Daniel Ricciardo had always been a happy, go-lucky kind of guy.

He was a ray of sunshine in the world of Formula One. He was known for having a smile plastered on his face. He was known for being kind and polite with everyone, and it made him one of the most liked people in the paddock—regardless of what team you supported or worked for.

And Daniel was proud to be known for such. He was proud that he got on with everyone so well, that he didn’t necessarily have enemies in such a crazy and complicated Motorsport world. He was proud to say that people saw him as a welcoming face when they were new to the sport.

Well, maybe everybody except Johnny in Marketing.

Johnny was a young guy, baby-faced and fresh out of university when he joined the Red Bull Racing Team. He played a major part in the marketing and social media side of things, and Daniel thought he seemed like a really nice kid. And he was.

Until Johnny started flirting with his girlfriend.

Daniel wasn’t sure if the boy was clueless or just had balls that were beyond his comprehension, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like how Johnny went out of his way to talk to you whenever you crossed paths. He didn’t like the way he stared at you from across the motorhome. He didn’t like the way he constantly tried to make you smile and laugh.

You were his Sunshine. Your smiles and laughs were reserved for him and him only. And this Johnny kid needed to understand that unless he wanted to be the first on the list of Daniel Ricciardo’s enemies.

“Stop that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re planning something,” Max said as he narrowed his eyes at his teammate. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daniel muttered.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Max sighed, shaking his head. “She will kick your ass.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the Aussie waved him off, his eyes laser focused on the sight of you and Johnny standing by the coffee machine.

It was harmless. At least, he was assuming it was harmless considering the fact he couldn’t hear the conversation. But then, you were taking a sip from your drink, a small line of foam decorating your upper lip, and before he could even realise it, Johnny was leaning forward to wipe it away with his thumb.

Max barely blinked before Daniel was already halfway across the room.

You stepped back when Johnny reached for you, a tight-lipped smile on your face. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But the boy just grinned at you. “I don’t mind.”

You blinked, clearing your throat a little. “I think you’ve got the wrong—”

You never got a chance to finish your sentence, you never got a chance to let the new kid down as politely as you could because your caveman of a boyfriend was by your side before you could even blink. He was by your side and his hand was on the back of your head, holding you in place before his lips were on yours.

It was a passionate kiss. One far too messy and intimate for the eyes of all your colleagues, and one that would have had your cheeks burning if it weren’t for the fact Daniel was so damn distracting when he kissed you like that.

When he pulled away, there was a shit-eating grin on his face as he murmured a soft, “there, got it” before turning to see Johnny standing there, lips parted in surprise or shock—you weren’t sure which.

“Flirting with my girl, mate?”

There was a smile on his face and a lightness that could only belong to Daniel Ricciardo, but both you and Johnny heard the underlying tone. You saw the flash in his eyes, the only warning the Aussie would give.

“N-No, sir,” Johnny said, shaking his head. It took less than five seconds before he was scampering away, trying to make himself busy.

“That was mean,” you murmured, though you still leaned against your boyfriend. “Even if it’s kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“I thought you liked when I was mean,” Daniel whispered, his voice a little gruffer than before and it made your whole body feel like it was on fire,

“Exactly, Ricciardo, keep it reserved for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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endofthelinexx · 2 years

Text

Roses and Flame | 2

Pairing: Female!Driver!Horner reader x Toto Wolff

TW: language, Christian Horner, slow burn, enemies to lovers, age gap

Rating: Mature, 18+

AN: hiii guys! This chapter and the following ones are going to be longer than the first one, and this series is probably going to be a big one. Im so excited and there might be some face to face Toto action this chapter. Please comment if you want to join the taglist!

Word Count: 2.3k

Mini Summary: Collins Horner is the eldest of Christian and Geri’s children. She has been raised to be the fastest female racer Motorsport has ever seen and to despise Mercedes while doing it. But what happens when her world turns upside down?

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it and claiming it as your own.

Pressure was the one word you would use to sum up race weekend. It was Saturday, and that meant qualifying. The past practices were really great for you, your highest ranking being 13th. Although, your teammate Dennis struggled, crashing out during the second practice. You both currently sat in the garage, you were staring at your car while Micheal spoke with Dennis. Your focus broke when you saw your father waving at you to come out of the garage, you stood up and walked out

He had his arms crossed, you only assumed a pep talk was coming your way. Your father, while having mixed opinions online, was a great guy, he was always on your side and supported you. And of course, at this moment, he was still the same supportive father even if you were racing against his team.

“Okay Collie, you know you got this, it’s the same as it has always been. Don’t let anyone get in your head.” He spoke, hand on your shoulder and you nodded.

“I won’t,” you spoke confidently, you were going to be on the track any minute which meant it was time to put aside your negative thoughts and anxiety. Michael called your name and your father returned your nod, patting your back as you walked back into the garage.

Stepping back in, you listened as Michael gave you another pep talk. As he spoke you pulled up your black race uniform, slipping on the sleeves and zipping up the front. He finished up his little speech and gave you a supportive smile as you buttoned the collar. Your trainer handed you your head sock, which you took after pulling your hair into a low ponytail. You put your mic and head sock on, getting in the car before they started to roll it out onto the track. Quickly you put on your helmet and gloves, clicking on your steering wheel. It was game time.

You’d never been so focused on the track, listening as your team called your times for each sector, your only thought was to go faster. And when it was over you waited quietly for your result, driving the last lap to the pit.

Finally, your coach spoke “1:31.437, you’re .185 milliseconds behind Russel. You’re p10.”

The biggest smile emerged on your face, of course, no one could see it but it was 100% there as you yelled, “fuck yeah!! I’m going to only get better from here, trust me.” You drove back into the pits to celebrate getting in the top 10 which was impressive for a rookie.

It was later in the day, you sat outside of your teams' hospitality building on the steps, your morning post-quali was full of a lot of ‘good jobs’ from fellow racers as well as quite a few interviews. You drank tea, watching everyone walk by, but your attention was pulled to the ground in front of you where you made eye contact with a bulldog sitting at your feet. A smile formed on your face and you sat your drink down and pet him as he sat in front of you.

“hi Roscoe,” you cooed, how could you ever say no to that face.

“He seems to like you,” you heard a familiar, kind voice, a voice that came from a man your father loved to complain about. Looking up, you saw Lewis standing in front of you, he was smiling a little.

You smiled back a little, “Hey, you did well today.”

Sometimes your father let competition and his passion for his job cloud his judgment, you had heard from other people and the media how great of a guy Lewis was, it was hard to hate him.

“Thank you, can I sit?” He asked and you nodded and he took a seat right next to you on the stairs.

“Speaking of doing a good job, look at you, p10 for your first quali. I think I have some up-and-coming competition.”

You laughed, “thank you, it was a little stressful but it made me very excited for the season.”

Lewis nodded, petting Roscoe, “it should, I’m sure you’ll be very successful in your career.” You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

You and Lewis had a pretty long conversation and you could definitely see him becoming a really close friend as time goes on. But next thing you know you’re in Audrey’s hotel room getting ready with her and Tayla who just had to invite herself. You three were going to an event, it was held by one of the big sponsors for Formula 1. You stood in the bathroom, leaning against the counter while applying a light pink lipstick.

“So who’s getting a hookup tonight?” Tayla spoke, looking up from her 5 different dresses to pick from at you and Audrey.

Audrey looked back at her and shrugged, Tayla looked over at you. Closing the lipstick you turned around, “it’s not really the goal, I just want to have fun with my friends.”

“How boring of you two,” she huffed, causing you and Audrey to look at each other, not impressed.

“Well that’s us I guess, boring,” Audrey laughed.

You picked up the dress you brought up off the bed, it was a light blue and covered in glitter. You quickly went to slip it on, it was skin tight with a low back and a slit on the left leg. Looking in the mirror you looked back at yourself, smiling a little cause you looked damn good.

“Okay that’s just not fair, you look so good,” Audrey huffed sarcastically, causing you to push her lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t even start with me, you’ll put yours on and look hotter than me,” You laughed lightly causing Audrey to roll her eyes and grab her dress to change.

Tayla held up one of her dresses, “how’s this one?” You looked over at her holding up a dress that looked very similar to yours except it was red.

Audrey frowned and went to say something, but you cut her off, “yeah I think it’ll look pretty.” She smiled and nodded, going to put it on. Tayla had been like this since you met her, she was one of those people that had to copy others and right now you were her target.

“Why’d you let her do that?” Audrey whispered to you.

Smiling a little bit you responded, “cause it’s funny to watch her try to be like me and fail.”

You three walked into the building where the event was being held, it was beautiful and definitely a little extravagant. But you knew you’d have to get used to it, it is formula 1 after all. You spotted some of the boys and they waved you guys over, so of course, you three went. Tayla went to walk in front as you approached them which caused you and Audrey to roll your eyes.

Lando of course pushed passed her to hug both of you two, “hey guys.”

You both laughed and smiled, speaking in unison, “hey.”

Pierre looked over at you, “you really had to knock me down to 11th today?”

You walked over to the rest of the guys, smiling smugly, “it’s the power of the Porsche, I don’t know what to tell you.”

The guys laughed and Pierre rolled his eyes, “mhmm, we’ll see tomorrow.”

You smiled and looked over at Audrey and Max who were already speaking to each other, in Dutch of course. Tayla inserted herself in your conversation and you just rolled your eyes and walked away to find some of the champagne they were passing out.

You looked down at your phone when you felt it buzz, you went to read the text from your mother, but that didn’t last long as you ran right into someone. You looked up to apologize and made eye contact with the worst possible person to run into, Toto Wolff.

“So are you going to apologize or are you just going to stare?” He spoke with his accent.

“Excuse me,” you frowned and pushed past him.

You walked away, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked to a table where your parents stood, your father was speaking to Checo, so you went and stood with your mother who hugged you.

She pulled away and saw the look on your face, “did something happen?”

You shrugged, “I literally ran into Toto.”

She laughed a little, “well, did you apologize?”

Huffing, you responded, “no I didn’t but he’s the one that was in my way.”

Your mother shook her head, “you sound like your father,” she paused and looked behind you, “he’s still looking at you.”

You frowned and whipped around, sending him a glare, he had an amused look on his face and went to go talk to someone. “I hate men.”

“Why’d you leave me over there,” you heard Audrey whisper yell, lightly pushing your shoulder.

You laughed and turned to look at her, “you seemed to be having a nice conversation.” She frowned and pushed you again.

“Ooo, with who?” Your mother teased and you grinned, “max.”

The rest of the night you managed to not go past being tipsy, being responsible due to the fact you had a race the next morning. And it would be an early morning for sure.

Your alarm went off causing you to groan and sit up, turning it off. You got up and started getting ready, putting on light makeup and casual clothes. You hurried out the door, went downstairs, and jumped in your car. Turning on music, you drove to the track, ignoring your anxiety and just turning the music up. You whipped into the parking lot, spotting your teammate's car and parking next to him. Audrey was getting out of her car and waved you over when she saw you.

You grabbed your phone and got out, walking over, “hey! How’d you sleep?”

She laughed lightly, “terrible, too nervous, but I’m ready to sign a shit ton of hats.”

She pulled out 2 markers, handing one to you and you both headed toward the paddock. After about 30 minutes of signing stuff for fans, you both made it through. There were cameras on you and Audrey almost immediately, you talked to her quietly about what happened the night before with Toto.

When you finished she raised an eyebrow and looked over, “girl, you’re so oblivious.”

You raised an eyebrow in return and looked over at her, “what are you talking about?” She smiled a little and you rolled your eyes, “you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Look, all I’m saying is you looked hot, you ran into him and we’re incredibly sassy, he probably just thought it was sexy,” she shrugged.

“I’m going into my garage so you have time to find your brain,” you shook your head and walked away to the Porsche garage.

“Good morning everyone,” you smiled as you walked in, grabbing a granola bar and a bottle of water.

“Hey,” Dennis smiled at you, “how was your night?”

You shrugged, “it was fine, yours?”

He smiled more, “it was great.”

“Hmm, I think I don’t want to know,” you laughed and took a bite out of your granola bar.

Michael walked in which meant it was time to focus, he and the strategist went over the plan with both of you. Your personal goal was 5th, others would tell you it was unrealistic, but that’s their own opinion. You spent the rest of the day talking to some of the other drivers and doing interviews.

Before you knew it you were in your car doing the formation lap under the lights of Bahrain, slowing to a stop at the start. You watched the red lights, each one felt like it took hours, and you were holding your breath. They turned off and the track exploded with the sound of engines. It was the most stressful hour and a half of your life, you finished P9. After taking your first pit stop you were at P15, but you climbed your way back up to P11. At lap 48 you pitted during the safety car and from there you finished 9th. You got out of the car getting pats on the back, it was a great first race and you only planned on pushing yourself harder.

After the ceremony you ran into Lewis, patting him on the back, “you did really good.”

He turned around and smiled, “you did too, although your father seemed pretty unlucky.”

“Yeah you’re lucky you’re not going to be on that flight,” you laughed, he nodded, teasing, “maybe you should fly back with us.”

You laughed again and shook your head, “that would only make the flight worse for my mother.”

Toto walked up behind Lewis, “hey we have to go get that picture.” He spoke to him but stared at you, you couldn’t read his emotions as you stared back at him.

You looked back at Lewis and smiled, “I’ll let you go, probably see you Thursday!”

He smiled back and waved, both of them turning and walking away. You stared for a second before turning around yourself to see your mom coming to hug and congratulate you. When she reached you she pulled you into a hug. While hugging her back all you could think of was Toto and if Audrey was right.

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#Toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #roses and flame

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robinfrinjs · 2 years

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2022 24 Hours of Le Mans, everything you need to know!

This year we see the 90th running of the oldest active endurance race in the world. Its inaugural race was in 1923 and now almost 100 years later it’s grown to be the most prestigious endurance race. Traditionally it’s held in June, and after two years of different dates following covid, we’re back in June again.

Josh Pierson, driving the #23 United Autosports USA Oreca 07, will be 16 years and 117 days old when he is scheduled to compete at Le Mans, beating the previous record set by Matt McMurry in 2014

The race is part of the World Endurance Championship and this means there are also points to score for that championship. The winner of the race will receive 50 points, meaning this race means a lot in the championship.

Points to score:

History

You might know Le Mans for the running starts. A type that has been used for many types of racing. When the start flag dropped drivers had to run across the track to their cars, climb in, start the car and drive away.

Those kinds of starts were obviously rather unsafe. Drivers would rush to fasten their seat belts to get as fast of a start as possible. This was the reason why it was banned in English racing from 1962.

In 1969 Jacky Ickx decided to walk to his car instead of run, and then took the time to fasten his seat belt. This meant he effectively started last but he still ended up winning the race. In this same race, a driver named John Woolfe died on the first lap after he hadn’t secured his seat belt properly.

This meant it was abolished the following year. Nowadays this type of standing start is only used in Endurance Motorcycle racing. Nowadays at Le Mans, a rolling start is used where cars line up alongside each other at a slow pace and start to race once the green flag is dropped.

The 24H of Le Mans has a rich history, but not a very pretty one in some parts. Back in 1955 one of the biggest tragedies in motorsports occurred. On the straight around the pit wall a huge collision occurred. Usually referred to as the 1955 Le Mans disaster, 84 people died and over 120 were injured. For many countries this meant an immediate ban on motorsport, though a lot of those bans were lifted within a year.

One country, that did not lift the ban, is Switzerland. In 2009 a proposal to lift the ban was defeated by the Swiss Parliament but in 2015 the ban was relaxed for electric vehicles only. Which meant Formula E could race on the streets of Switzerland, even though the ban was technically still there. Now in 2022, at the end of May the ban was finally lifted and motorsport is allowed again in Switzerland.

Please proceed with caution, the Wikipedia page includes one uncensored picture of the incident. The BBC documentary includes footage and pictures and the Reddit post does not include any pictures or videos but does link to the them.

/u/CookieMonsteFL made a post about the incident

The Deadliest Crash Is a BBC documentary on the 1955 Le Mans disaster

Wikipedia Page about the incident

Women at Le Mans

All credit for the info in here goes to Twitter user @smokingpuppy841 he created these two threads: Women at Le Mans & Why Women Were Banned at Le Mans

This year Lilou Wadoux becomes the 65th woman to compete at the 24H of Le Mans. Last year she turned heads when she managed to completely destroy the field in one of the support series at Le Mans. In the French Porsche Sprint Challenge, she beat the field in qualifying by several seconds and then went on to win the race by a huge margin. Within just five years she went from racing in a Peugeot 206 to racing in a World Championship where she also becomes the youngest French driver to start the 24H of Le Mans.

In 1930 Marguerite Mareuse and Odette Siko become the first women to compete at Le Mans, they finished 7th overall and second in their class.

Odette Siko also finished 4th overall in 1932 and took the win in her class which makes her the best finishing woman at Le Mans. In 1935 a record of 10 women competed at Le Mans, Anne-Cécile Rose-Itier was the best placed of them when she finished 18th overall and third in class.

Unfortunately in 1957 women were prohibited from participating. In 1956 Annie Bousquet, who was known as a spectacular but risky driver, tragically lost her life in the 12 Hours of Reims. As well as driving, Bousquet was also responsible for the preparation work, which involved picking up the car the day before and driving it 500km through the night to the race.

She started the race, but unfortunately, tragedy unfolded when her car would roll on lap 17 after it lost a wheel. She broke her neck and passed away immediately. Following the 1955 disaster which nearly ended motorsport, the ACO were very nervous about another accident. These nerves were only heightened by another tragedy at the 1957 Mille Miglia which saw the Italian government intervene to prevent a repeat.

These worries, combined with Bousquet’s reputation as a risky driver, meant they banned women from the event. A woman hadn’t even competed at Le Mans since 1951, which made the ban, kind of pointless. The ban was eventually lifted in 1971 and this year we will see 5 women at the start again. Rahel Frey, Sarah Bovy and Michelle Gatting share a car in the GTE Am class while Sophia Flörsch and Lilou Wadoux both drive in the LMP2 class.

The track

The track that is currently used is 13.6 kilometers long. It combines the permanent Ford Chicanes, pit straight, under the Dunlop bridge and through to tetre rouge as well as normal everyday roads of the Mulsanne straight through to Indianapolis and Arnage.

The track used to have a 6km long straight where Group C prototypes could reach up to 400km/h. This was changed in 1990 as the FIA required the track to have a straight no longer than 2km to be sanctioned. This is why nowadays two chicanes can be found on the Mulsanne straight. The fastest lap ever on the track was driven by Kamui Kobayashi with a 3:14.791 in 2017

The map below shows all the Marshall posts and corner numbers.

Slowzone map

there’s nine slowzones. These are used to neutralize a section of the track after an incident without immediately bringing out a FCY or SC

Qualifying

Just like last year we will see the Hyperpole format return. This sees a one hour session on Wednesday evening where all cars of all classes are allowed on track to set a time. The top 6 cars of all classes at the end of the session move on to the Hyperpole session on Thursday evening. This sets the top of the grid for each class. The remaining order is already decided by the one hour session on Wednesday. During the one hour qualifying session every team is allowed to nominate two drivers that can set a lap time.

Classes

This year the race will feature four classes plus the extra lmp2 pro/am class. This year we will not see a garage 56 entry, they will be back next year with a NASCAR Cup car!

Le Mans Hypercar

(RED Number Panel): It’s the current top class in WEC and replaced the LMP1 class from last season on, it will see 5 entries. Last year’s pole time in class was a 3:23.900 Even though there are no restrictions on driver pairings except that no bronze rated drivers are allowed, all crews consist of gold and platinum rated drivers this year. Both Toyota cars have a full platinum line-up as well as the #708 Glickenhaus car. The other Glickenhaus and Alpine both have one gold-rated driver each while the other two are platinum. All cars race on Michelin tyres.

LMP2

(BLUE Number Panel) LMP2 is a class that features a spec drive train and gearbox, there’s three chassis teams can choose from. The Oreca 07 is the most popular one. This year’s grid will see 27 LMP2 entries of 10 are Pro/Am entries. 26 of these entries are Oreca cars and just a single one is a Ligier. LMP2 cars are used in series such as ALMS, IMSA, ELMS and WEC, which means teams from all of those series join the grid for this year’s race. If a team has an amateur (bronze rated) driver they must run at least 6 hours over the course of the race. The LMP2 car has a lap record of 3:27.200, but was slowed down with the coming of the Hypercar. Last year’s pole was a 3:27.950. Every line-up must include at least one bronze or silver rated driver. When a LMP2 crew has a bronze rated driver, they will be entered into the PRO/AM Cup that is new from this season on

LMGTE Pro

(GREEN Number Panel) This year the GTE Pro class sees 7 entries of which five are full-season WEC entries. One of the Corvette’s and the Riley Motorsports Ferrari come from IMSA . Despite teams being allowed to run drivers of any rating, most teams are running a full platinum line-up. Only the Riley Motorsports Ferrari has two gold drivers.

LMGTE Am

(ORANGE Number Panel) This year the GTE Am class sees 23 entries. Aside from driver line ups, the specifications of GTE-Am cars usually have to be atleast a year behind the GTE-Pro category. But since there hasn’t been a new spec in a while, the cars are basically the same. Teams have to have at least one bronze rated driver in their car and then another either silver or bronze rated driver. The most common line-ups include one bronze, one silver and one gold driver but in some cases there’s one platinum driver instead of the gold. In some rare cases there’s two silvers and one bronze.

Tyre Allocations

Tyre allocations are as follows. The number stands for a single tyre so during hyperpole teams are only allowed to use two sets of four tyres. As stated wet tyres are unlimited, but can only be used once the clerk has been declared wet

Schedule

This is all in local time which is CEST/GMT+2

Sunday June 5th

09:00 – 13:00 FP1 (Official Test Day)

14:00 – 19:00 FP2 (Official Test Day)

Wednesday June 8th

14:00 – 17:00 FP1

19:00 – 20:00 Qualifying

22:00 – 00:00 FP2

Thursday June 9th

15:00 – 17:00 FP3

20:00 – 21:30 Hyperpole

22:00 – 00:00 FP4

Saturday June 11th

10:30 – 10:45 Warm Up

16:00 – 16:00 Race (24H)

Additional Info

Pitstops + Penalties

Speeding in the pitlane during Practice or Warm Up results in a fine of 100 euros for each kph over the limit. Besides that the driver's lap times leading up to the infringement are deleted. During the race the 1st infringement will result in either a drive through (between 60 and 70kph) or a 5 sec stop & go penalty (70kph+). The 2nd infringement will result into another drive through (between 60 and 70kph) or a 10 sec stop & go penalty (70kph+). The third infringement will result into a dsq in both cases.

It is prohibited to spin the wheels when a car leaves its pit, this will result into a stop & go. Aside from that refuelling may only be done when the car is completely on the ground which means tyres can't be changed during refuelling.

During the race a driver has a minimum driving time of 6 hours and a max driving time of 14 hours. A driver is not allowed to drive more than 4 hours in a period of 6 hours.

SC/FCY/Red Flag procedures

During red flags it is not allowed to work on the car, only if allowed by the race director for safety reasons teams are allowed to change the tyres.

Unless a driver is already in the pit entry for the purpose of serving their drive-through and/or Stop & Go, or any other pit lane penalty, penalty at the time the Slow Zone procedure is deployed, they may not serve the penalty after a Slow Zone procedure has been deployed on the track adjacent to the pit entry road, pit lane or pit exit road. The same thing goes for serving a penalty under a FCY or a SC.

During a SC period, three SC will be deployed as shown highlighted on this map.

Support Series

Road To Le Mans (Le Mans Cup)

Porsche Sprint Challenge

Ligier European Cup

Official Timetable

Where To Watch

To follow the race there’s several options. For 10 euros you can buy a race pass on the FIA WEC site. This allows you to follow the action during the race weekend. This is available everywhere except in Canada and the US. I think it’s a rip-off but I bought it anyway so if you don’t want to pay but still follow, I’ll be streaming all in the Robin Frijns Server. In the US and Canada you can follow it on Motortrend, it’s 5 dollars a month. There’s also a 7 day free trial, unsure if that works with the 24H of Le Mans but it’s worth a try.

Here’s a link to a PDF version of all broadcasters

Scratchpad

Same as for the 24H of Nürburgring the R/WEC server has a scratchpad. By this you’re able to catch up on any missed action, penalties and retirements. Obviously it’s difficult following a 24H race in its whole so this is a great way to catch up. Here’s the link

Links

Here’s a link to the regulations for this year’s race

Here’s a link to the noticeboard

Here’s a link to the timing results

Here’s a link to committee decisions

Media Guide to WEC

Might seem like a weird one to link but it’s really interesting to read. It goes into further depth about classes, and talks about previous winners etc

Entry List

Spotters guide

I used to make my own ones but there’s no use in making one myself when @GrosiakMateusz already makes perfect ones. You can find it on spotters.guide

Live Timing

This is Official Livetiming it’s okay, but I recommend using the Timing71 Beta extension

Please don’t be afraid to send any extra questions, I’m not sure if I’ve included everything haha

#24h le mans 2022 #24h le mans #wec #racing

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