#Ayrton Senna x f!reader

[iceman-kazansky]

Celebrations Together

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: Anon

Request: Can you write an Ayrton senna fic which they’re both teammates and it’s just fluff between them and they’re dating

Pairings: Ayrton Senna x F!driver reader

Warnings: Kissing, nothing much just fluff

Word count: 690

A/n: This is really similar to a part of the Seb fic I wrote haha. Anyways, first fic of the new year!! Hope you enjoy, anon. Also, I’m experimenting with replacing the gifs usually featured at the top of my works for pictures or moodboards :)

Taglist: None. If you'd like to be tagged in my works, either ask in the comments or fill out this form !! :)

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

You were sweating hard, a sheen layer of moisture gathered on your brow beneath your balaclava and helmet and breath leaving you in low pants. The knowledge that each corner you took was bringing you closer to winning– to a championship– had you stressed yet excited. All you had to do was hold onto this position for a few more seconds–

Ahead, you could ses the chequered flag waving above the track barriers, white and black squares a blur. Your tires roared against the pavement, engine howling, wind rushing past you.

As you crossed the finish line in first place, you nearly burst with joy. Tears sprung to your eyes immediately.

The cool-down lap felt unreal. You were still in shock. Had you really just won a driver championship for yourself? The first woman in the sport to do so? As you pulled into the parc ferme, you scrambled out of your car in the Mclaren garage. A flash of a signature yellow helmet in your peripheral told you that Ayrton wasn’t far behind.

When you turned to look at him you shouted in joy and he was quick to join you. Together, you jumped around excitedly, his arms looped around your waist with your faces creased into broad smiles. You weren't sure which one of you did it but in a minute your lips were connected in a moment of pure joy.

“I did it!” You exclaimed, pulling away and voice bursting with delight, “I won!”

Ayrton had a wide smile present on his face. “You did it, meu amor!” He repeated, “Você é um campeão mundial!” [You are a world champion]

You smiled wider at his words. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Your team had gathered around you, cheers and the feeling of their congratulating shoulder pats overwhelming your system.

“Thank you guys,” you said, voice wobbly with emotion, “I mean it. I couldn't have done it without everyone.”

The Mclaren garage was teeming with bright joy. Smiles were present everywhere you looked. Everyone stood around, cheering for you. You, who had proven yourself to Mclaren and the world that you belonged here. You, who had proved that you were worthy of a seat and the investment. You, that had proved you could do everything male drivers could. You.

Eventually, you were forced to part with the team for the podium. You climbed the stairs to the walkway, waving to the crowd as you climbed onto your spot on the #1 spot. As you stood on display for the world to see, the booming sound of your national anthem began loudly in your ears, reminding you of your achievements. You were trying so hard to be strong, to not get emotional, but it was impossible. You had tears in your eyes as you stood with your face to the sky, letting your overwhelming joy smother you.

The champagne spray began shortly after the anthems had been played. Ayrton, who had secured himself a p2 popped open his bottle, the cork shooting off the top and white fizz running over his fingers like lava before he turned and began pelting you. Immediately, you turned your head away from the onslaught, fizz erupting from your own bottle as you directed your own defensive spray back at you. A wet splash against your back caused you to gasp, body tensing as a second spray of champagne hit you. As your bottles emptied, you laughed, the other podium members joining you.

Slowly, everyone filed off the balcony when the celebration came to an eventual end. After throwing a final wave to the crowd, Ayrton reached for your free hand tenderly as you walked off. “I love you, querida,” he murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss to your hair and squeezing your hand. “I could never be prouder of you.”

You smiled, turning to receive the kisses against your lips. The smile had scarcely disappeared from your face, and your cheeks were beginning to sting. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were beyond happy with your achievements, and Ayrton being by your side to celebrate them made it infinitely better.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

[iceman-kazansky]

The Burn of Jealousy

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: nobody

Pairings: Ayrton Senna xf!reader

Warnings: Kissing. Jealousy. That's it, I think.

Word Count: 1,102

A/n: Wrote this a week or more ago, just reread it and thought it was ready to publish :))

Taglist: nobody

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

For Ayrton, he'd always been a little sour towards you. Standoffish maybe was easier to explain it. It wasn't that he was rude, no, not at all. He’d just.. had a few difficult times with you at first, but things had improved. Only, you were teammates, a little less than friends, but more than rivals. In some ways. You were both competing for a championship, as were every other driver, so on occasion it put some strain on your relationship.

Yet here he was, sitting on the opposite side of the bar, watching some man practically groveling at your feet for your attention and attraction. It made him feel all sorts of ways he didn't know were possible to feel about you. The way you were laughing at his probably stupid and corny jokes; how you were smiling so beautifully, flashing your precious pearly whites wastefully at him; all of it made his whole being burn with course, bitter jealousy. What did that loser have that he didn't?

Ayrton was sipping on a glass of liquor, watching you two from his seat with a sour look on his usually cheerful, relaxed features. Only when you reached forward and touched his arm did he finally snap. Downing the rest of his drink, he made a beeline to the two of you.

He appeared behind you, arriving just in time to overhear the discussion of this pathetic man taking you on a date. It made a bitter jealousy surge through his veins as he interjected, “She's busy.”

Ayrton didn't spare you a glance as he continued his hard glare at the man who had been hitting on you. Raising an eyebrow, the stranger protested, “Who are you?”

The Brazilian man wasn't in the mood for any further argument and made the, in hindsight, irrational decision to reply with something that would make all of the strangers' advances come to a screeching halt. “I'm her boyfriend.”

Without waiting for another reply from the stranger, Ayrton's jealous gaze snapped down to you and he spoke in a tight voice, carefully curbing his angry jealousy, “We're leaving. Now.”

The seriousness in his voice left no room for argument and you were forced to follow him as he practically dragged you away.

Ayrton clutched your hand tightly and began walking, not stopping to glance back at you as he pulled you outside and away from the bustle of the bar.

Only once he'd pulled you to somewhere secluded did Ayrton stop, turning to face you, “What were you doing with him?” He asked pointedly.

“Talking?”

Ayrton clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at your flippant response. “It looked like a lot more than talking,” he retorted, “You were getting really.. comfortable with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, so I'm not allowed to be comfortable or have fun with anyone else anymore, am I?”

Ayrton's jaw ticked, his irritation growing with every word you said. He felt the hot, tingling sensation of his carefully concealed anger growing steadily, his eyes hardening. Why didn't you understand where he was coming from? “You know that's not what I meant,” he all but growled at you, taking a purposeful step forward. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, his eyes locked with yours. “It's not about you having fun with someone else, it's about how you were acting with him.”

Sighing in exasperation, you respond in irritation, “He was just trying to ask me on a date!”

Ayrton couldn’t take this anymore. Without fully thinking through what he was about to say, he blurted, “That's exactly my point! I don't want him to take you on a date! Take you away from me! What does he have that I don’t?”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you. Ayrton began to regret his words, the full weight of them sinking in. Had he just possibly ruined a friendship with the person he cherished most?

The Brazilian could hardly hold his gaze with yours, but he braved this feeling of shame, meeting your gaze. Your eyes were wide, your mouth parted slightly in shock, making him feel even worse about his mindless words. “What?” You asked suddenly, blinking at him.

Licking his lips, Ayrton pondered whether to continue or to hold his tongue and try backtracking. “I-” He stuttered, mentally cursing his inability to speak. He was better than this. He knew he was. “I want to know what he had that I didn’t.”

Suddenly, Ayrton realized he was past the point of caring about what his words might do now, he couldn’t stop himself anymore, “I want nothing more than to take you on a date myself. Every time I see you flirting with another guy- I just can’t help it. I get so jealous. Maybe I had just hoped that you would look at me like you looked at them. Hoped that you’d flirt with me like how you flirted with them.”

For a long time, you’re silent and Ayrton feels an unusual dread settle over him. Suddenly everything seems so loud. The cars on a not so far away street roar in his ears, the shadows of the alley he'd stopped in front of to talk to you seemed to grow in size, threatening to swallow him whole, and the streetlights cast a blinding light on him.

“I’m sorry.” He’s quick to apologize, hoping this hasn’t changed anything, but deep down he knows it will never be the same. He feels it.

“Don’t apologize-” Your voice snaps Ayrton from his reverie. He had begun to lose all hope but your voice is something that distracts him, “I feel the same.”

Ayrton’s face visibly brightens, his eyes widening with glee, “Y-you do?” he asks incredulously. He can’t believe it.

You nod faintly. Ayrton is overrun with an immense joy, and for the third time that evening, he acts upon an impulsive thought, this time when he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

After a few seconds he pulls away, his chocolate irises staring down into yours with a newly defined affection swirling amidst them.

“I’d agree to going on a date with you,” you say to him, smiling as you bring up his earlier statements.

Nothing can stop the smile that creeps onto Ayrton’s face as he beams down at you and nods, “I’ll be taking you up on that”

To Ayrton, this was way better than winning any grand prix. Better than winning a world championship. You were the best prize of them all and you were certainly prettier than any trophy.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!