#a safety car dominated race???

[sophiewagentje]

Just end this pls

[livetogether--diealone]

i can't belive i waited this long for rb to get the car wrong, for people to see max wasn't that good of a driver and he could not have beaten the lewis hamilton without a better car and cheating, for people to say he's too aggressive, for rb to be this close to the bottom feeder cars only to exchange that with lando norris in a rocketship and it's also a fucking mclaren

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[rafecameronssl4t]

Unfinished Lap || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: One moment, Rafe was dominating the race; the next, it all slipped away. You tried to steady his rising emotions, but his frustration overwhelmed him, leaving you no choice but to walk away from the paddock.

Warnings: angst, kinda toxic!rafe if there’s anything else lmk!

Word count: 1,865

A/n: nfl!rafe x dcc!reader later today!!! (Second part is up!)

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!rafe x fem!reader au masterlist)

“No! No! What happened?” Rafe’s voice crackles through the radio, his panic lacing every syllable as the chaos unfolds on the screen. Your gaze flickers back to the broadcast, watching his Ferrari crawl around the track, smoke billowing from the engine.

One moment, he was dominating the race, leading effortlessly—now, he’s barely moving. A mechanic’s voice cuts through the air, sharp with frustration. “His engine’s fucked,” a mechanic mutters, his voice heavy with disappointment. The team around them exchanges grim looks, all too aware of what this means for Rafe.

In your head, you can already hear his inner monologue—his fury at the failure, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Rafe was the kind of guy who measures his worth by every lap, every second on the track. Failure doesn’t sit well with him—especially failure that isn’t within his control.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The best you can do now is try to stay positive, to soothe the storm he’s bound to unleash on himself. But you know how hard that will be. Rafe is a perfectionist. The smallest misstep, the smallest flaw, eats away at him. Problems that he can’t control, like this—like his car giving out—will be the ones that break him.

Your gaze shifts back to the screen, where Rafe’s car is now completely immobilized. Smoke still rising, he’s done for the day. You exhale sharply. The screen zooms in on him, his face a mask of frustration. He’s already agitated, you can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way he rips his gloves off his hands. You sigh, half in pity, half in resignation, when hand suddenly appears on your shoulder.

Austin gives you a sympathetic look. You force a smile, trying to lighten the moment, you both know the storm Rafe’s about to bring. You watch as the safety car pulls up in front of the garage, Rafe soon emerges, his movements stiff, every step heavy with the weight of his disappointment.

He walks past his team, offering a few terse pats on the back, but his face is an unreadable mask. It’s clear he’s holding everything inside, and that’s never a good sign. When he finally approaches you, your heart sinks. You open your arms, ready to offer the comfort you know he needs.

But Rafe, eyes dark with frustration, only snakes his hand briefly around your waist, his touch cold, distant. “It’s okay-“ You start but is cut off my him, “It’s not. It was a fucking shit show, so don’t say that it’s okay,” he spits, his voice low but sharp, full of venom as he practically hisses the words into your ear before brushing past you.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit harder than you expected, the sting of them sharper than you imagined. You can feel your heart beat erratically in your chest, a mix of shock and hurt washing over you. You scoff, trying to hold yourself together, trying not to let his outburst tear you apart.

His behavior is worse than you thought—this rage, this venom he’s spewing, it’s not just at the race. It’s at everything. And you, standing here, helpless to make him see reason, feel like the target. Rafe’s PR manager, Mia, watches the exchange from a distance, her eyes filled with sympathy.

You give her a small, dismissive wave, brushing off the weight of the situation as best as you can before turning sharply to head toward Rafe’s room. You close the door behind you, and the silence envelops you both. Rafe sits hunched over, his head in his hands, but when you speak, he doesn’t respond.

“It’s not your fault,” you say, your voice soft but firm as Rafe lifts his head from his hands. His eyes lock onto yours—cold, distant, unreadable. The usual fire you know him for is gone, replaced by a storm you can’t understand. You step closer, your heart tightening in your chest as you meet his gaze. “You know that, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stares at you, his jaw clenched tight, his expression a mask of frustration. There’s something else behind his eyes, something that feels like defeat. “I don’t need your sympathy, Y/n,” Rafe mutters, the words barely escaping his lips, low and edged with annoyance.

You flinch, but you don’t back down. You refuse to let him push you away, not now, not when he’s clearly falling apart inside. “I’m not trying to pity you,” you reply softly, crossing your arms as you take another step forward. “I’m trying to help you.”Rafe growls under his breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t need help. I need things to fucking work out for once,” he snaps, the bitterness in his tone cutting through the air like a blade. Your chest tightens at his words, but you stay calm, your hand trembling slightly as you reach out to him, your fingers running through his hair, offering a fragile comfort.

You lean his head against your stomach, holding him in the way you know he needs, even if he doesn’t want it. “You were doing great out there, Rafe,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. “It wasn’t your fault the car broke down. You couldn’t have known—”

“Just stop, Y/n,” he interrupts, his voice rising, harsh and guttural. He jerks his head away from your touch, the movement quick and sharp. He stands up abruptly, pacing away from you as his frustration boils over. “I’m fucking tired of this. Tired of everyone pretending like it’s fine when it’s not.”

You watch him, unsure of how to respond. He’s pacing now, back and forth, his movements agitated, like he’s trying to escape the tension that’s building up inside of him. The room feels smaller now, and you feel more distant from him than ever before. “Why do you have to keep pretending everything’s okay?”

He spits, his eyes flashing with something fierce, something you can’t quite pinpoint. “You keep telling me I’m fine- that I did well- but it doesn’t fucking matter. It’s not fine.” You stand frozen, trying to make sense of his words, your heart sinking with every second. “I’m not pretending, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to make him see, trying to make him understand.

“I know you hate losing, but you were amazing out there. I just… I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over something you couldn’t control.” “You don’t get it, do you?” he snaps, his voice breaking with the weight of his own frustration. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy. I don’t need you trying to make it better with your damn words. Words don’t fix this.”

The sting of his words hits you like a slap in the face, but you hold your ground, refusing to let the hurt show. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Rafe. You think I don’t know how much you’re killing yourself over this? You’re destroying yourself from the inside out when things you can’t control go wrong. But I can’t just sit here and watch you do that to yourself.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want your fucking help.” His voice is cold now, empty of anything resembling warmth. He sinks into a chair in the corner of the room, slumping back as if the weight of the world has finally crushed him under its pressure. “I’ll deal with it myself.”

You stand there for a moment, the silence deafening, before the frustration boils over, spilling from your lips before you can stop it. “I’m sorry for caring about you,” you mutter bitterly, the hurt in your voice unmistakable as you turn away. You can’t stand to be near him right now, not when he’s pushing you away like this.

You grab your bag, the strap slipping off your shoulder as you prepare to leave the Ferrari garage. Your pace quickens, the footsteps echoing too loudly against the concrete floor. The people around you, the team members, staff, mechanics—they all seem to part in front of you, but their gazes follow you, like they know something’s wrong.

And it makes everything worse. As you make your way towards the exit, Austin steps into your path, his eyes scanning you with concern. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice low but urgent. You freeze for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. You don’t even know how to begin explaining what just happened.

The words that Rafe had spat at you earlier still sting, his anger, his frustration—none of it was about you, but somehow it felt like it was. “I… I need to get out of here,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him, but Austin’s hand gently grips your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

It’s as if he’s waiting for you to break down, to tell him what’s going on. But you can’t. You just can’t. You feel your chest tighten, your throat constricting. Every part of you wants to leave, to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of the garage, the pitying looks, and the questions you don’t want to answer.

“I… I just can’t right now,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t want to break down in front of him, especially not here. Not now. Not when everything feels like it’s crumbling around you. You shake your head, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. “I just need space,” you choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of it all.

“Please, I just need to go.” Austin doesn’t stop you this time. You step out of the garage, the cool air hitting your face, but it does nothing to numb the pain inside. As you walk past the crowd, the stares feel even sharper now, their judgment cutting through you like a knife. You ignore them, but the weight of their eyes only adds to the heaviness in your chest.

“Y/n, why are you leaving so soon?” A voice calls out from behind, but you don’t turn. Paparazzi surround you almost instantly, their cameras flashing in rapid succession, each click a reminder of the chaos you’re trying to escape. You keep walking, your head held high, your face stoic, their questions are nothing but noise.

You reach your car, your hands trembling as you unlock it, your phone buzzing relentlessly in your pocket. Your phone buzzes in your pocket again, persistent, like it won’t let you escape. You pull it out, knowing who it’s from before you even look at the screen. Rafe’s name is there, multiple texts, all apologies and pleading, the usual dance he does when he’s trying to fix something.

But this time, you can’t bring yourself to read them. Not now. Not after everything that just happened. You scoff, a bitter sound, the frustration and hurt bubbling up again. With a harsh swipe, you shove the phone back into your bag and slam the door of your car shut, the sound of the engine roaring to life offering you a strange kind of relief.

PART TWO HERE

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Ford GT40

Ford made significant improvements with the Mark II, featuring a 7.0-liter V8 engine, and refined aerodynamics. In 1966, Ford achieved its goal when the GT40 Mark II, driven by Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon, won the 24 Hours of Le Mans, marking the first time an American car had won the prestigious race outright.

The GT40 effort was launched by Ford Motor Company to win long-distance sports car races against Ferrari, which won every 24 Hours of Le Mans race from 1960 to 1965. ... The Mk 1, the oldest of the cars, won in 1968 and 1969, the second chassis to win Le Mans more than once.

The 2005 Ford GT40 is a legendary car born out of a grudge, fueled by ambition, and ultimately crowned with victory on the world's most prestigious racing circuits. Its story begins in the early 1960s when Henry Ford II, commonly known as "Hank the Deuce," sought to challenge the dominance of European manufacturers in endurance racing, particularly at the 24 Hours of Le Mans.

In 1963, Ford attempted to buy Ferrari, which was then the dominant force in endurance racing, having won Le Mans multiple times. However, the negotiations soured, and Enzo Ferrari, the founder of the Italian marque, walked away from the deal at the last minute, leaving Henry Ford II furious.

The 2017 Goodwood Members Meeting Chassis P2262, again piloted by Chris Ward, lined up for the Surtees Trophy in 8th position after a qualifying session that was dominated by Lola T70’s. Chris Ward got away cleanly and started to make up places but in the fading light a collision occurred bringing out the safety car. When racing resumed Chris Ward raced to the flag climbing to 5th overall.

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 2 : When all had fallen

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Next >

You remember 2015 as if it was tattooed to your brain. This was the year when cracks had started to appear in the Mercedes motorhome.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was all victories and celebrations — through what appears to be years of dominance ahead. However, destruction and chaos loomed between the walls of the 2 garages. The dispute between the drivers is growing gnarly and what was supposed to be kept on track was seeping into the personal lives of the people involved.

Lewis and Nico were ready to slit each other’s throats when given the permission and command. Moreover, the management did not give a damn about the rapidly growing hostility, for as long as one of them won . No, Mercedes didn’t care. And you saw how it affected not only the drivers , but the entire pit.

A person cannot forget a lifetime’s worth of friendship that easily. You saw it with your own two eyes , how the loss of friendship killed a part of Lewis and all you could do was sit there and pull him close into your embrace.

Paranoia had started to claw its way into Lewis’ mind; wondering if his teammate and Mercedes were teaming up against him.

You could do nothing to help, because you were going through the same exact thing. Not as Lewis’ partner, but as his race engineer. You cannot lie to yourself, and most importantly you cannot lie to Lewis and say that no dirty cards were drawn — because you know for a fact that several team calls were given without your knowledge or permission that had led to losses and misjudgments. You cannot deny foul play … not when Monaco 2015 happened.

“Lewis, you have a 21-second gap on Rosberg. Tires are good, keep that pace” You radioed towards Lewis as you monitored the data on the car.

“Copy, what lap are we? “ Lewis radioed back

“Lap 64, Lap 64 of 78. Keep your head down, A race win is projected, I repeat, a race win is a project— RED FLAG, RED FLAG! ” Just as you were talking, the signal for a red flag had lit and you and your team were informed of a crash.

Quickly gathering the information, you rallied it towards Lewis.

“Slow the car down, Red Flag, Red Flag. A safety car is deployed. Lewis , lay low and keep those tyres warm” You mentally cursed as what appeared to be a 21-second advantage for Lewis was no longer there.

“What happened?” Lewis questioned

“Verstappen and Grosjean touched on turn 1. Verstappen is out. “ You echoed

“Fuck! My pace was good. Are they ok though? Who was at fault?”

“I will get back on that, the stewards are now discussing” you replied.

Your eyes were focused on the data that was on your screen when suddenly at the corner of your eye you saw an engineer discretely say something to Bonno.

A look of apprehension clouded his features. And he sent you a look of remorse as he pressed what seems to be your mic connection to Lewis’ car. Horror ate your entire being as you realized what was about to happen.

Before you could do anything else, Bonno had radioed to Lewis.

“BOX, BOX “

Your world froze entirely, as absolute terror gave you whiplash. Rage consumed you and you stood from your chair not caring for the mess you’re making as you made your way towards Bonno and gripping his polo forcefully towards your height.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” You screamed at Him, now the other engineers tried to hold you back — but not before you could land a solid punch at him. Fuck HR, they could fire you for all you care.

You once again tried to claw at him, when you heard the confused voice of Lewis in your abandoned earphones.

Elbowing your way out of their grip, you placed the headset back on your head and reconnected to Lewis.

“ Y/N? Why did they tell me to box? Where were you? “ Lewis’ voice held so much confusion and doubt that it broke your heart.

“Lew, I - “

“ Y/N you said my tires were good. Why was told to box? Why am I boxing? “ Lewis countered before you could even answer.

You knew that Lewis had just lost his win. And you felt like it was somehow your fault.

“Lew … I'm sorry”

And just like that, Nico Rosberg had won the Grand Prix. While you lost the trust in every person in your motorhome and you gained contempt back.

After that incident, you had developed severe mistrust and it has led to nightmares and unhealthy amounts of alcohol. And only Lewis could break your cycle.

It was truly you and Lewis against everything. Or that was what you thought. Because , you didn’t know that Lewis has been fed false information about what happened, where everything was pinned on you.

Without your knowledge, Lewis’ trust in you had also formed a crack and doubt had nested itself in his heart.

No matter how coarse and dreadful , life still ensues and you are forced to move on — and continue with your life. Lewis had won another world championship.

It cant be denied that the prestige and glamour that the title brought has broadened opportunities for Lewis . Yet ,no one can argue that this has also broadened the target behind Lewis’ back.

And it had shown during 2016, Nico Rosberg was adamant about winning and he had done everything in his power to achieve his goal.

And painstakingly, Nico had won the title. Then not long after he announced his retirement.

Nico Rosberg has left Mercedes … and what did this mean for Lewis? Admittedly you were relieved by Nico’s exit; this meant the tension in the motorhome had been dissipated. You were no longer worried that the 2 Merc drivers were going to kill each other on track.

This meant, that you and Lewis could finally figure out what was between the two of you. You two could finally grow and develop your relationship. A relationship that wasn’t surrounded by anxiety and work . You could finally re-approach the promise that Lewis swore to you a year before.

He promised that he would rectify the contracts so that we didn’t need to stay in the shadows.

However, time continues to pass, days become weeks weeks become months and months become years.

It was now 2020, Lewis was experiencing what the title of Formula 1 Champion brought. He won another championship. And Lewis was living the life! And you had your moments too. You could proudly say that you are now a well sought after race engineer — with Race teams serving job offers left and right. But you have always declined , even if you so badly wanted to leave Mercedes… because you stayed where Lewis was.

4 years had passed, but you were still at the very beginning. You still waited for Lewis to make do his promise.

But as you gazed at him looking so alive and carefree as girls littered at his side while the music blasted in the bar.

The music was deafening,yet all you could hear was the pounding of your heart, as you felt the vile rush up to your mouth at the sight of your boyfriend holding another woman. And you could do nothing because to the world you were just his race engineer. Even after everything you sacrificed, you still cannot claim and shout to the world that Lewis Hamilton was yours.

Tears had started to drop from your eyes. As you felt the warm liquid run down your face , you felt a soft material in your hand. Looking down it was a handkerchief.

“ Pretty race engineers shouldn’t cry” A cold voice caught your attention, as you looked up to Blue cerulean eyes.

“Hi, We haven’t formally met. I’m Max” A smile graced his features, softening his usually cold appearance

“I don’t think we have. Well then, Hi Max! My name is Y/N. It is so nice to meet you”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @itslagumi

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

[cheriladycl01]

Monaco Mayhem - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Plot: Charles finally breaks the dreadful Monaco curse to bring a home race win!

In 2018 Charles was unlucky in Monaco, a virtual safety car came out on lap 73 when his left front brake disc failed just before the Nouvelle Chicane, causing him to crash into the back of Brendon Hartley.

In 2019 the ‘curse’ continued even though he was now in Ferrari, after a rough qualifying he began to fight through the field after starting in 15th place. You were so happy watching him having made it up to 12th by lap eight, but touched the inside wall at turn 17 during an overtake attempt on Nico Hülkenberg, which is always a risky move in Monaco. This contact caused a right-rear tyre puncture. Over the course of the next lap, you had watched, tears in your eyes for your boyfriend as he fell to last place as his tyre ripped apart and caused significant damage to the car's floor, causing him to be a while lap down by the time he came out of the pits.

In 2020, due to COVID restriction your boyfriend and the other 19 drivers weren’t racing on the historic circuit due to the strict regulations in place.

In 2021, first time in Monaco since COVID and the curse was still in place. After an incredible qualifying Charles was sitting in pole position. You both celebrated that night, so excited for the Sunday race. However whatever gods were watching over Monaco … or Charles or the ones who supported Max in getting his first world championship worked overtime that night, as Charles had a Did Not Start due to a driveshaft problem.

In 2022 it was the first year that you and Charles started having proper relationship issues. You’d just had a huge deal at work, which meant you weren’t able to come to as many races as you had been in previous years (where you basically went to all of them except a few that clashed with your schedule) and he was for the first time leading the drivers world championship, ahead of last year’s champion, Max. You were both stressed, and not around each other enough and it put a huge strain on your relationship.

However, you made sure to be at Monaco despite your huge argument at the last race in Spain.

He qualified on pole for the second year running and you were beaming for the hills. You were praying that nothing happened to the car overnight or in the race. However you clearly didn’t pray hard enough, with the shit show that came from team order.

Is it to pit or not too pit …

Well nobody fucking knew and you could hear over the radio how frustrating it was for Charles when he and Sainz ended up pitting at the same time due to miscommunication on the Ferrari pit wall.

This caused delays meaning both Verstappen and Perez got out ahead of them and left Charles not even on the podium.

In 2023, you and Charles had started communicating a lot better towards the end of the 2022 season and were a lot better off for it, meaning your relationship was never better despite Max’s (and Red Bulls) clear domination this season.

Monaco again was disappointing. But it was a hard race.

2023 despite being a uneventful year in Formula One, Charles had proposed to you, and you were set to get married after the Monaco Grand Prix of 2024, as there was a little bit of time before Canada to have the ceremony with some of Charles closest friends and family, who had tight and busy schedules.

So here you were waiting as Charlie, your fiancé … soon to be husband is sat in P1, Oscar … his son who you’d both famously adopted this weekend right next him.

You were nervous through the whole race despite how dull the race was. You were sat with Charles family, hugging Arthur from one side and Pascale from the other as you gasp at a tight corner that Charles got a little close for comfort over.

You were praying for your boyfriend to finally get his home race win and kiss the curse goodbye that had been held over his head for the last 5 years.

Tears are streaming down your eyes as you hear his race engineers comforting words in the last few laps where he’d made a pretty strong gap to the person behind him.

All of Ferrari was hyped for the man that had been with them for the last few years and had all developed strong bonds with the driver. They watched on as he completed his last laps, no errors to be seen. When he crosses the chequered flag, your launching yourself at anyone you can, not caring that you definitely resemble a watering can right now to the Sky Sports camera that you just know will be on you.

Your celebrating with the team who eventually drag you out to the park ferme area to go see him. And when you do, my god he looks ethereal. The sweat sheening around him, and how his hair still managed to look as though it had been styled by his mum this morning.

He was immaculate in your eyes. He celebrated with the team, hugging Carlos and Oscar, before settling his eyes on you.

“This one was for you, my love” he whispers in your ear lifting your up into a hug, a blush coating your face making you dive you head into his neck away from the faces and camera.

“I’m so so proud of you, you finally did it. I don’t even think you’ve just made every resident of Monaco happy but everyone watching was routing for you!” You smile before pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you so much, I - I can’t believe this feeling right now! I -“ he breathes struggling to find the words.

“Go get that P1 trophy … Mr Leclerc” you grin and he smiles back, a goofy expression on his face.

“And will Mrs Leclerc be watching …” he grins back and you can’t help but laugh.

“Still Miss Y/L/N until tomorrow honey” you smile and start to push him further away to where he’s being heckled over by Martin Brundle for his post race interview.

And you keep to your word, you watch with tears in your eyes as you hear the Monacan National anthem for the first time at an F1 race since 2022 and the way Charles looks in that podium is a real sight to see.

You know the photographers are rubbing their hands and licking their lips as they take the pictures right now knowing just how much cash they’ll get for these photos.

You watch on as he dedicates his trophy down to you, kissing it and then blowing you as kiss making you catch it and place it in your cheeks. (Once you just rolled your eyes at his childish antics … let’s just say you never ever missed an kiss again).

Later that night and you were celebrating his win with all of his and your friends. Lando, Pierre, Carlos and Max were all there with their partners who you were very close with, and later on you were joined by Oscar and Daniel and their girlfriends.

It was a full atmosphere with everyone coming up and congratulating him not only on the win, but wishing him luck and sending their congratulations for the wedding tomorrow. Two cakes were brought out … one for the win, one as a little preemptive wedding cake got tomorrow.

“Wait Y/N, Charles do you have separate parties before tomorrow?” Kika says shouting out over the loud music sounding around.

“What do you mean?” You ask her confused only for everyone to gasp.

“You mean to say you don’t have a bachelorette party, or Charles doesn’t have a stag due? I just thought i didn’t get an invite” Lando says a hand against his chest happy that he didn’t get left out.

“No?” You laugh, not seeing the big deal with it.

“Oh come on, it’s your last time to party single!” Rebecca laughs, shaking your shoulders a little.

“What?! I’m not single though, Charles is my fiancé. It would just be the last time to party when I’m not fully tied down, but … I mean it’s not like after we marry we’ll become an old couple that doesn’t come out with us” you offer and they all look at you.

“Do you see Sergio or K-Mag here? Or any of the married lot, even George and Alex bailed on tonight to be with their girls … you guys are next” Daniel argues and you and Charles look between each other in shock.

“Oh come on guys, we aren’t going to be like that” you whine.

After some more back and forth of arguing you guys all decide on some more drinks, but you Ane Charles have a wordless agreement that you wouldn’t become THAT couple after marriage.

You guys would still be fun right?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Gemini Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Kyle Garrick is a true romantic.

・He always opens doors for you, and pouts when you don't let him. So you always let him, because a pouty Kyle is an insistant Kyle - he will literally put you back in the car and re-close the door, just to open it himself.

・Yes you've been late to things because of this

・Affection is easy with him. Even PDA. He loves holding your hand in public, kissing you on the lips, wrapping an arm around your waist etc.

・He doesn't care whose watching, but loves to let everyone know you're taken.

・He does care about your safety, so he was insistent you take self-defence classes (don't worry, I think he would attend them himself. But in another room, as to not make anyone uncomfortable)

・However, I also think he would instruct the instructor (because this is his area of expertise ... it's literally his job)

・Loves when you get passionate about something and rant. He's a great listener; encouraging you to talk about anything you want, whenever you want

・Loves buying you flowers; actually looks up the meaning and has that as apart of the card. I.e., Baby's Breath means everlasting love, White Hyacinth means loveliness etc.

・Always great at making you laugh, he has a great sense of humour and usually finds it in most situations. But don't think he can't be serious whenever it's needed.

・He's very intuitive like that

・Especially with your feelings as well, in all things he thinks of you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Short & bossy (You) x Tall & follows them around (Kyle)

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (Kyle)

You Fell First, But They Fall Harder

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Unbreakable Bond

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Hell N Back by Bakar

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・A true romantic in the bedroom as well.

・Your first time together felt like something out of a book.

・Kyle is very gentle. He loves taking his time, stroking your skin, pressing his lips to the most sensitive places and watch as goosebumps rise.

・He's very well-endowed. Both thick and long; knowing how to use it to hit right where you want it to

・Neither yet both dominant & submissive. His style isn't to push your limits but to make you moan as much as possible

・The best head you've ever received. Takes his time. Really, takes his time.

・The raunchiest place you've fucked is a dressing room. His hand over your mouth, smiling into your neck - having to bite it when he came.

・Large hands, with long fingers. His hands ... are very sexy. Kyle does like to hold your hands when you fuck; usually above your head or behind your back

[vax-merstappen]

undefeated pt. 1 (mv1)

more victories than defeats

summary: it’s the hungarian grand prix and max has won every race this season. when you get pole, can you finally defeat the undefeated?

series masterlist

You walk through the paddock, cameras flashing, people shouting your name. You pull your red cap lower over your eyes, trying to get through the crowd and into the safety of the Ferrari hospitality.

As Ferrari’s clear number one driver, it was no surprise that people wanted to get your picture or signature. Even just a quick sound bite would get a reporter views. And normally you’d try to stop for as many of your fans as possible, knowing that taking a few seconds out of your day would mean the world to them. But today was different. Today you were on a mission.

The Hungarian Grand Prix normally wasn’t a huge highlight on the calendar for you or the team, but today it felt different. With the new upgrades on the car and a stellar qualifying that got you onto pole position, you had a chance.

That chance was to beat Max Verstappen, the current reigning world champion. Last season he had dominated, winning all but three races, his teammate Checo Pérez taking the ones he failed to win. And this season, he had claimed all of the victories of the first twelve races. He was on track to win every race this season, setting a Formula 1 record and doing something nobody else had ever been able to do.

But not if you had any say in the situation. As his main rival on track you would do anything to stop his reign. The bad blood between you and Max ran deep, having started racing in Formula 1 the same year as him. With both of you going into your 10th season in the sport, it was clear to most people that he was the better driver and you hated that.

Maybe today would be different.

You walked into the Ferrari garage, quickly making your way over to your race engineer, Renée, and pulled her aside.

“So what’s the game plan for today? Besides keeping Max behind me and defending like crazy.”

She smiled at you. “We’re running a one stop strategy. You’re going to have to push like crazy at the start and try to get a lead. You know how aggressive he is…”

I scoff. “Aggressive is an understatement. He’s a damn maniac.”

Renée chuckled. “Yeah. Well you’ve got pole so you’ll have a slight advantage over him in second. And you’ve got your teammate Charles behind you in third, so you should have the support there. He’s been made aware that his job is to keep the rest of the grid off of you and Max. Even our odds against him.”

You nod. “Glad to know. We’ve got to win this one today. He can’t win them all.”

“He won’t. We’ve got pole, a good strategy, car upgrades, and your determination to win this one. Today will be our day.”

“Let’s hope it is,” you say, giving one last acknowledgment to Renée before walking to your driver’s room to start your pre-race ritual.

You put on your headphones and started playing your favorite hype song, practicing a few stretches that you always did before a race. As you continued to follow your routine, slowly all the noise faded away and you were left with one feeling. Determination that Max would not win.

---

As you walked out to stand for the Hungarian national anthem, you found yourself lined up directly next to the world champion himself. The tension nearly crackled in the air between you as you made eye contact with Max, his gaze more like a glare. You didn’t dare speak to him as the performer was singing and the grid kids stood before you, but you could already tell he was focused. Though he seemed nonchalant, you knew it secretly bothered him that you were on pole.

As soon as the performance ended and the drivers began to disperse, you whispered under your breath as you walked by him. “Enjoy watching my rear wing.”

You walked away before you could see if he responded.

Standing by your car, you prepared yourself to race. You needed to start strong and capitalize on your pole position. You risked a glance back at the Red Bull behind you, watching Max put on his helmet and ready himself to get in the car. You could have sworn he was looking back at you, almost as a predator looks at prey.

You climb into your car, pulling your own helmet over your head, readying for the formation lap. You give a thumbs up to the crew, watching them step away from the car and take the covers off the tires.

As you pull away from the start line, you move side to side across the track, trying to warm your tires to get better grip for the start. You knew Max would be on you instantly, trying to pass you as you went into the first corner. You went through the corners of the track on the formation lap, readying yourself for the race.

As you pulled into pole position, you watched the red lights begin to light up

1

2

3

4

5

Lights out and away we go.

You sped up as fast down the main straight, trying to get your car first on the inside line. You could see Max beside you, trying desperately for the same thing. As you went wheel to wheel, you nudged your car ahead of his, managing to secure the racing line for the time being.

But in your mirrors was Max Verstappen in a Red Bull, arguably one of the scariest sights in Formula 1. And as you made your way around the first few laps, you just couldn't find a way to shake him. He kept behind you, only just outside of getting DRS to pass you.

You kept speeding through the corners of the Hungaroring, sensing it was only a matter of time before he passed you. The pressure was on, the Red Bull and Ferrari rivalry at its greatest.

One pit stop each and a safety car later, you found yourself driving slowly behind the car. And in your mirrors, you could now clearly see the man himself, right on your rear wing. Any lead you had built was gone, taken away with the safety car. The lion was in striking distance and you knew it.

As the safety car moved to resume the race, you pressed the pedal full on, needing to shake the dutchman behind you. With only 10 laps left of 70, you needed to hold on.

But as good of a driver you were, Max was better. The best driver on the grid, undefeated in the first 12 races of the season. And he wouldn't let a Ferrari beat him.

You entered the main straight and you knew Max was close enough for DRS. You watched he caught up to you, going wheel to wheel as you sped through the track.

It would have been easier to accept if there'd been a fight, some sort of defense available, a challenging overtake for Max.

But he just breezed past you, as if you weren't even there. Not a threat. Not a problem. Not anything he'd ever worried about.

Even after a strenuous and hard fought race to gain a lead, Max Verstappen once again would win. His thirteenth consecutive race. Another damn record.

You finished the last nine laps of the race, still pushing but not nearly as hard. You felt defeated. Nothing you or the car was capable of would be enough. Not against him, a living legend of a driver.

As you crossed the finish line in second, you congratulated the team on their efforts on the radio, but your heart wasn't in it. Most drivers would be happy with a podium, if not elated. But not you. Not when you would be forced to spray him oncemore with champagne. Not when he would take home another trophy, which would just be another hunk of metal to him.

You climbed out of the car besides him, noticing Oscar Piastri pulling into the 3rd place spot. You could at least be a little happy for the Australian, having earned another podium in just his second season. You walked up to Oscar and congratulated him, making a point to do so before turning to Max.

"Congrats on the win," you said, your voice monotone.

"Thanks," Max replied simply. "You had a good drive there at the start."

"Not good enough," you retorted, trying and failing to hide your disdain at both him and your own failure.

"Still a podium though," Max shrugged.

"You know damn well you'd be pissed in P2."

Max looked you in the eye. "I think you should be grateful I let you lead the race for so long. My car is clearly faster than yours."

You rolled your eyes. "I don't want to do this here. Not with all the cameras."

Max had the audacity to smirk. "Suit yourself. But I did earn the win, don't deny me that."

You hated it when he was right.

You stalked away from Max on track and headed over to your team, clapping a few of the engineers and team members on the back for their performance. Sure, you were mad. But they still got you a podium position. And you wanted to delay the cooldown room as long as you could.

But you couldn't delay it that long, and god did some water sound refreshing. So you went into that room, looking at Max seated in the center chair, Oscar on his right in the 3rd place chair. You grabbed a water bottle and slumped down in the remaining seat next to Max, not saying a word.

"Could have taken that corner better," Max said, commenting on a clip of your car briefly sliding out of track limits. "Maybe that's why you lost some time to me right before the safety car."

"Thanks for the observation," you said sarcastically.

The tension in the room was palpable. You almost felt bad for Oscar Piastri, having to deal with the two of you.

"If there hadn't been that safety car, I would have had a tougher race. But I still think I could have caught you... your tires seemed to be degrading faster than mine. At least that's what the team said. Also with a few of those small mistakes like going wide on the turns..."

He kept going on, in his typical way, what the internet had dubbed Maxplaining. They were right. It was like he didn't understand that you knew your mistakes and how he had driven faster.

But anyways, you were spared as the three of you were called for the podium. Oscar went out first, followed by you.

You heard the cheers of your team and fans and you tried your hardest to be happy and excited about your podium. But when the cheers for you were eclipsed by those for Max, you couldn't pretend anymore.

You stood only begrudgingly beside him on the podium as the Dutch national anthem played for the 13th time in a row. And when he popped the champagne, even he didn't seem excited, like winning had become habitual for him and that this was an obligation, not a reward.

This was a man with more victories than defeats in the past few seasons.

A man who's wins were routine.

A man you loathed with your whole being.

You chose to spray your champagne over your own head rather than his. An act of protest and anger.

And when you left the podium, you left with stronger feelings. The taste for victory lingered on your tongue. And the desire for revenge burned stronger in your heart.

Part 2 coming!

taglist: @jehun

[dear-ao3]

new to f1 - can i ask for some team history? have red bull always been so dominant? how often do the cycles change??

yes yes ok So who’s dominant depends on a lot of things, drivers yea but mostly the car and who can make the regulations work for them. you can be the best driver but if you’re in a shit box you’re Fucked.

so presently red bull is dominating, max won in 2021 but they properly started dominating in 2022. this was cause of the big change in regulations mostly.

they change the regulations all the time but big changes are every few years for a variety of things: driver safety sometimes, making the cars have a lesser environmental impact, making things just plain more interesting, putting people on a level playing field etc etc. the last batch of regulations that caused mercedes fall from grace was i believe the cost cap. previously you could spend whatever the hell you wanted on the car and everything else. and Now there is a cost cap. this was done to try and bring the teams all closer together because previously it was all the top four or so teams that had all the money and would win things and then the back marker teams were just there. i don’t remember offhand what the cost cap is but i do know you can’t spend more than that each year on Everything (including crash repairs i’m Pretty sure) which keeps things interesting. anyway that and the other changes that got implemented in 2021 (?) caused red bulls rise to dominance.

mercedes had been dominating before then and won the constructors (team championship) from 2014-2021 (max won the drivers in 2021) and lewis hamilton won in 14 and 15 and then 17-20. nico rosberg won in 2016 (lewis’s teammate. he then retired after his first win. no one has ever done it like him and no one ever will again but we do Not have time for that). mercedes i believe only became a team in 2010 (?) they had been on the grid previously like Years ago but made a return in 2010 and had a few shit years before, surprise surprise, a regulation change went in their favor and they built a rocket ship.

prior to mercedes it was back at red bull. they won in 2010-2013 both constructors and drivers with sebastian vettel winning the drivers championships all 4 years. and i’m pretty sure it was another regulation change that caused them to rise to the top. red bull had been doing Okay prior to then but they i think only entered the grid in 2004(????) after buying the jaguar team

prior to 2010 there were several years where there wasn’t really multi year dominance by any one team.

jenson button won in 2009 with brawn (???) and that was a surprise to everyone especially the team and turns out they just so happened to build a good car that year.

lewis hamilton won at mclaren in 2008 at the end of a very very close season. i believe he won in the last race and it was a matter of a few points separating him and felipe massa at ferrari

2007 was won by kimi raikkonen at ferrari in yet another close season, lewis hamilton nearly won this season and it was his rookie season

then we had two years of fernando alonso at i think it was renault (which is now alpine) in 2005 and 2006.

prior to that was the real era of dominance from 2000-2004 with michael schumacher at ferrari

prior to that i’m not really sure of the teams and i’m in a car and not fact checking Any of this so i could be totally wrong about what i’m saying lol. but there were several years of williams dominance in the 90s and mclaren again had another few years i Think.

anyway. to answer your question. yes there are eras of dominance but it is far more interesting when it’s not because then multiple people are winning the races. like this season is the first time since 2021 there’s a proper title fight (at least for the constructors) since 2021 and we’ve had something like 7 i think different race winners, which hasn’t happened in A While

i hope this was helpful? if not feel free to ask me more questions

[keepthedelta]

what would you consider Rosberg's best race? (wanna hear people wax poetic about their special interest)

it's going to be a list because i am weird about nico

singapore 2016. an absolutely dominate weekend for him, fastest in every single session, outqualified lewis by 7 tenths (and danny ric by 6) setting what was (at the time) a track record. spent the entire race managing brake and engine issues, got screwed over by merc strategy when they were trying to get lewis back onto the podium after he got overtaken by kimi, had to make his tyres last an extra 20 laps with danny ric chasing him down 2-4 seconds a lap faster than him. won the race and then posted a slutty shirtless photo of him being cooled down by a fan in what could be considered the ancestor of the ice bath videos that teams post now.

canada 2014. a real contender for my favourite ever nico race even though he didn't win. both merc cars had mgu-h failure about 20-30 laps in thereby losing half of their power. nico switched brake bias to the front brakes so that less strain would be put on the rear brakes because on the lack of power and potential overheating. about five laps later lewis dnfs with rear brake failure. nico should have been overtaken by just about everybody, but instead he spends the next 30 laps using all of his power and speed in one specific sector (the one with the drs detection point) so that checo (now in second) is too far behind to get drs, and then, even though nico's car is barely alive for the rest of the lap, he can never overtake him. it literally took checo's car breaking down and allowing danny ric (now driving the best car in the field) for nico to lose the win. the mechanical masterclass of modern f1 (and yes it might not have worked at another track or i f someone other than checo had been in second, but i firmly believe that the lowest nico could have ever come given the circumstances was third) and it is not appreciated enough.

china 2012. i rewatched this recently and literally no one believed that nico was going to win until about five laps before the end. he was driving one of the world's shittiest mercs (i promise every single merc pre-2013 was worse than any car since then), got pole by half a second, got a perfect start, flawless tyre management, cruised to victory while everyone else was fighting for their lives behind him (the battle for second was absolutely insane, and nico was just minding his own business about 15 seconds ahead of them all).

singapore 2008. crashgate has entered the building. back then cars refuelled during the race and so another factor in the strategies was fuel load. nico and a number of others were running low initial fuel loads, so they would have to stop relatively early. except, just before they were going to stop, nelson piquet jr binned it into the wall (on purpose) and the stewards closed the pitlane for safety reasons. however, nico and the others on similar strategies needed to refuel so they had to enter the pitlane anyway which earned them a stop and go penalty which had to be served within three laps. nico did those laps as fast as he possibly could, meaning that after he served his penalty he only lost a handful of places (i think 3). robert kubica who also took a stop and go penalty on the exact same lap for the exact same reason (and was in a better car) lost far more places and i don't think he even finished in the points. nico spent the rest of the race rising up the field and finished second only to fernando (who got there by cheating) with lewis in a distant third (tbf i don't think he needed to try that hard by the end as he got a massive points gain over felipe massa his championship competition due to the ferrari pitlane incident).

malaysia 2016. casuals will tell you that this is the race where lewis lost the championship because of his dnf (and if you're a lh hater i recommend watching it because the level of conspiracy that emerges from lewis and sky sports is genuinely quite funny) but i think that's very misleading. in the very first turn seb crashed into nico, spinning him around and leaving him in dead last by the end of the first lap. nico fought through the field, pulled off a rallycross overtake on kimi, got a penalty for it, and was already sitting in fourth when lewis's engine blew up. he then pulled a ten second gap over kimi so that he kept his podium place, got danny ric to make max do a shoey, nearly threw up when he did one himself, told a room full of reporters that he didn't want danny ric to win another race (that year) and filmed one of the funniest ever post-race vlogs where he fidgeted with the neckline of his t-shirt while describing how seb had apologised to him for the crash and that was nice but it didn't get him any points back. truly iconic.

there is definitely a running theme in these choices i think. mostly that i think nico was at his best when he was fighting against the potential capabilities of the car/circuit/circumstances rather than other drivers 🤷🏿‍♀️

[gayf1hoe]

Race Win Celebrations

Scenario - Y/N congratulates his boyfriend Lando after his first ever Formula 1 win at the Miami Grand Prix.

The build up to the Miami Grand Prix was in full swing, with celebrities, mechanics, journalists and fans everywhere.

Y/N donned his Red Bull helmet, but before he did so he went over to his boyfriend and gave him a light kiss which caused the crowd to let out a small cheer in support for the young couple. Y/N and Lando were the iconic F1 couple that everyone was in love with, but also people questioned how two people with the mental age of a child at times can cope with each other. But the truth is they loved each other so nothing else really mattered.

Red Bull like previous years have had a dominant season. Y/N and Max have been winning Grand Prix' all season, and fans are hoping for someone else to  win. And surprisingly so were Y/N and Max, who needed someone to challenge them and their dominance.

The race got underway but from lights out it was clear both Red Bulls were struggling. They had barely any grip around the circuit and Y/N was having issues with his brakes and keeping them cool.

When the safety car came out due to Logan Sargeant crashing into the wall it sent everyone running to the pits, and once all the cars had come back out it was one driver in the lead, Lando.

Y/N tailed his boyfriends bright orange McLaren until the safety car went in and he attempted to make multiple moves on him all to no avail. Y/N had always said that just because he and Lando are daiting he will never go easy on him or race against him any differently to other 18 drivers on the grid.

Lando could never really seem to make a gap between him and Y/N no matter how much Y/N was struggling to keep up, but Lando crossed the line in P1, victorious for the first time but certainly not the last.

As disappointed as he was to miss out on the race win he was more than happy for his boyfriend. After he crossed the line he came alongside Lando and clapped for him to show his support. When his engineer said he was in P2 he had only one response:

“I couldn't think of anyone better to lose to”

In Parc Fermé Y/N went straight up to Lando who was in tears and he embraced him into a warm hug and whispered something into his ear.

During the post race interviews Y/N would continually come up to Lando and constantly congratulate him. Even during the McLaren celebrations at the garages Y/N was there, Zak had invited him as he knew that he was an integral part of Lando's life and celebration without him wouldn't be the same for Lando.

[leclerrari]

“I’m so sorry, but I suffer from short-term memory loss”. Those who have never seen Nemo probably won’t understand the reference, signed in this case by the very charming Dory. A reference that I use to address a problem that seems to afflict many “fans” (the quotation marks are not used by chance) of the pinnacle of motorsport. Following the - extraordinary - victory of Carlos Sainz, in fact, I found myself reading various comments which, rather than praising the Spaniard’s performance, preferred to bring out how “Ferrari renewed the contract of the wrong driver”. None of these were journalists from Marca, much less from AS. I’m talking about long-time Ferrari “tifosi”, regular visitors to our platforms, who have pointed out that Leclerc has only won two races more than the mistreated Sainz. Consequently, getting off the wagon of the person who was about to win in Bahrain, at the steering wheel of the red car, in his second appearance wearing the Cavallino suit, or in Austria, before being escorted out by Max Verstappen, or in Singapore, again in 2019, before he was subjected to an undercut by his own teammate. Getting off the wagon of the person who achieved two podiums with the SF1000, of the person who was on the verge of winning in Silverstone at the steering wheel of the SF21, a car with which he even achieved two pole positions (how can we forget the one in Monaco, lost without even having the chance to race). Of the person who was mocked by a Virtual Safety Car in Jeddah in 2022, the year in which his power unit broke while he was dominating both in Barcelona and in Baku, the year in which he was the victim of the worst of treasons in Silverstone and of strategies bordering on embarrassment, as in Monte-Carlo and Budapest. Of the person who was vice World Champion in 2022, of the one who before the 2024 Australian Grand Prix was returning from seven consecutive front rows, of the one who collected 23 pole positions: only Michael Schumacher, in Ferrari, did better than him. Carlos, unlike Charles, has always been able to be in the right place at the right time (Singapore 2023 and Australia 2024) taking advantage of the circumstances like no one else has and, certainly, of the not excellent weekends of his teammate, which unfortunately for Leclerc have coincided with the very rare failures of Red Bull and Max Verstappen. This, for those who suffer from short-term memory loss, was Charles’ fault, this is the reason why Ferrari would have “renewed the contract of the wrong driver”. This is what has led many to get off the wagon of the monegasque, a wagon that they will soon be forced to chase on foot. On the other hand, “those who don’t have a good memory must have good legs”.

— Alessandro Morini Gallarati for Hammer Time Magazine

[alilvalearchive]

It's 1999 and Valentino Rossi is dominating the 250cc world championship with Aprilia. Meanwhile, the #46 is looking around for the big jump to the premier class the following year. As fate would have it, it was at Jerez that champion Mick Doohan crashed disastrously, thus ending his multi-decorated career. Honda thus begins to court the 1997 125cc champion, who has conditions: driven by his love for Japanese riders, Valentino Rossi asks to race the 8h of Suzuka, in addition to having Jeremy Burgess on his team. Obviously, Honda gladly accepted, since convincing a top 500cc world championship rider to run the event was not at all easy. Valentino and Colin Edwards are chosen for the 8h of Suzuka in 2000, but the race is a disaster for them both crashing out two times out of the race. During the testing before the race, Valentino managed to set fast lap after fast lap beating Edwards, his teammate, on the same bike Edwards had used to win the Superbike World Championship. After the traumatic experience of 2000, Valentino Rossi never wants to set foot at the Suzuka 8h race again. In fact, in 2001 Rossi is fighting for the last 500cc title before the switch to MotoGP. With Max Biaggi's Sachsenring victory, the championship between the two Italians is now more open than ever. During the summer break, the championship leader would like to rest, but the commitment at Suzuka awaits him for the second consecutive year. The weekend is off to a rocky start at the Suzuka 8h for Valentino Rossi. The Doctor sets the fastest lap time in free practice. In the round before quali, the rider from Tavullia ran into a violent crash that fortunately saw him unharmed. “I touched the brake to adjust the lever, not knowing that on the Superbike it works the exact opposite way from my NSR. I failed to brake and the bike pointed straight at the wall-I jumped to avoid the impact.” As per tradition, at Suzuka the riders start by running from one side of the track to the other. On foot Rossi is certainly not the fastest, thus losing a few positions at the start. Little harm, as the #11 VTR within a few laps is again leading the pack. The rider from Tavullia leaves the bike to his partner Edwards after an hour of the race with just over 5 seconds on the pursuers. During the American's turn there are two episodes that change the race. Akira Yanagawa is involved in an accident with a lapped rider, while Yukio Kagayama is involved in a long run that causes the Suzuki to lose more than 20”. When Rossi returns to the track, the three factory Hondas find themselves leading the race. Okada is very fast and forces Rossi to push: the Doctor returns to the pits with a lead of 5”. Despite the first part of the race spent largely in the lead, the Rossi-Edwards pair finds itself in second position at mid-race. Barros starts another duel with brand mate Edwards, arriving with a minimal advantage at the pit stop. During the fifth hour of the race the irreparable happens: after entering the track in the lead, Okada falls right in front of Rossi, losing just over 15” and forcing the Italian onto the sand. Another change of riders and another recovery for Barros: the Brazilian passes Edwards again despite the sizeable lead at the beginning of the stint. In fact, a Safety Car neutralized the #11's lead by 13', with Rossi now forced to chase. Valentino Rossi's final stint of the 8h of Suzuka is nothing short of legendary. When he pits, the #11 has well over 9” lead over Okada. Without any particular surprises, the last round sees the Texan finish the race in first position. Suzuki closes the podium with Ryo and Kagayama, who ruin Honda's potential hat trick. Valentino Rossi is once again a legend in motorsport history. In fact, Rossi is the only rider to win both the Suzuka 8h and the 500cc world championship in the same year, with no less than six wins in the last seven races of the championship.

Flashback 8h of Suzuka

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter eight: somethings missing

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: the group deals with Daniel and his antics, max and Charles fight for the championship, reader is actively fighting her car.

Warnings: hospitals, drugging, talks of infertility, no consent medical procedures, anxiety, talks of abuse, mentions of depression, sexual innuendo

Notes: this one was hard to write tbh. There was just a lot going on. Also I feel like I’m getting bolder. I blame it on the face I’ve been on A03 a lot the last week.

Previous <-

7.5 <-

Masterlist

Moving day could not come fast enough.

Turns out Daniel is more perverted than they expected. They found him spying on them multiple times.

Mostly just enough for stolen kisses. Once on them doing things when they thought he was gone for the night. Turns out he lied.

That being said, he is a caring friend and made safety the number one concern. None of them posted anything about where they were. Daniel never had anyone over. He checked his locks and windows multiple times before bed just to help them sleep.

It was a relief to finally have their own space again. More space compared to the original apartment. Dating a world champion definitely has its perks.

The security is much better here also. More cameras around the outside. Not being able to come up unless personally invited and cleared with the front desk of the building.

They felt themselves being able to relax. Something they drastically needed before the start of the season.

~

The 2022 season came around fast. Already two races in and redbull was ready to dominate.

Much to Charles misfortune.

They didn't have hard feelings about anything, though. They all celebrated each others highs and consoled in the lows. The rest of the grid wondered how they managed.

Unless, of course, it's Daniel who knows exactly how they manage given the Brit slipped about his phone password and never changed it.

The third race of the season had just concluded. It's her first, Charles second, and Max third. Not exactly sure how she managed to get up there, but she didn't care.

As celebrations ended, she found herself going back to her room to get ready for the press conference. Occasionally, being stopped by fans on her way.

Charles spots her and is jogging in her direction. "Off to get the champagne out of your hair, I assume?"

"Correct. I'm leaving it everywhere else, though, for later." She winks. Her confidence had been getting better lately. The boys doing their best to help her come out of her shell. It also helps when the hate and nasty comments get to much for her. They make sure to stick her back together.

Her and Charles take a corner, and every sound goes underwater. It didn't matter that it had been six years since she'd seen him, her father looked exactly the same as the day she left.

Air left her lungs. Her hands shakily fumble for anything to help hold her up. Grateful that Charles is there to help her stay on her feet.

He's wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans. His face has more wrinkles now. He looks more built than she last remembers, yet he remains the same.

"Chéri? What's wrong?" Charles is scanning over her body and trying to follow her gaze. His eyes land on the figure moving towards them.

Then she's running with Charles in tow. The Monegasque is trying to put pieces together, but nothing comes to mind. That wasn't the man who'd given them the box. Was it..? No way. He absolutely refuses to believe her father had managed his way here.

"I need to know what's going on so I can help." He cradles the girls face. Her eyes are distant and moving rapidly to assess her surroundings.

"It's him- need Seb." She pants. Her words mildly slurred from her body's current lack of control.

Charles’ plan to text them is foiled by the figure - her father - now coming around the corner. Heading straight for them at a rapid pace.

Charles knows he's not going to get anywhere fast enough, and he'll just follow anyway. Instead, he takes the girl and tucks her protectively behind him.

Charles feels himself recoil in disgust. The entirety of this man drips unpleasant things. He tries to put up a brave front as he feels the girl behind him shaking like a leaf.

"Do you need something?"

"I actually want a picture, with just y/n if you don't mind." The man's voice is coarse and unpleasant to listen to.

"We're actually on our way to a press conference, but possibly later." Charles smiles unwillingly. Hopefully, playing along with whatever this game is will get him to go away.

Charles is taken off guard when he's shoved abruptly aside. He curses himself for trying to look relaxed, letting himself be moved so easily.

He tries to pull her away by her shoulder. Force her to keep walking until someone can help them. But she's frozen in place. The proximity of her father and his disgusting hands on her biceps makes Charles broil with anger.

Charles makes a move to get in between them, but he's too late.

A hand has left her arm and into his pocket. A blunt needle comes back at her so fast that even as Charles pulls her, it still makes contact. The contents spilling into her.

It is cold and unpleasant, and she hates it. Her father is just laughing as Charles drags her to safety. "You should have come home! Now you'll have to come back.”

Charles tries to hold the needle where it lands until he can pull it out. The awkward angle it entered below her collar bone makes if difficult.

Her body is failing. She wants to blame it on shock, but this feels different. The energy she's gotten good at controlling now surges with a lack of purpose and a heap of vengeance.

Charles can feel her skin heating up as he drags her to the redbull motor home.

He's thankful when he spots Christian and yells out to him. The team principle is volting to his side when he sees the female driver unresponsive.

"What happened?"

"It's a lot to explain. We need to get her somewhere safe, and then I need to find Sébastien." It's a demand and he's thankful Christian can tell he is trying to figure things out.

They successfully get her into her small driver room. Then he's calling Seb and texting their group chat.

When he receives confirmation that they are on their way, he turns his attention to the comically large needle stuck in his lover.

"Somone came at us while we were walking. I tried to pull her out of the way, but it didn't matter. He was too close." Charles is on the brink of tears now and Christian can see it.

The older man does his best to slide the needle out, wrap it in a towel, and throw it away.

Max and Lando come barreling through the door seconds later. Terror hitting both their faces as they set eyes on their sick looking lover.

She's lost color in her face, she's sweating more now then when she races on a blistering hit day, her body temperature is burning, and her eyes are rolling into the back of her head.

Seb also runs through the door and halts in his tracks. "Was it... was it him?"

Charles just shakes his head. Then Christian is yanked outside the room by Seb. The door clicking behind them.

All three of them get to work trying to soothe her. Max starts running a cold shower to bring her body temp down. Charles is patching the hole in her collar bone, and Lando is perched right next to her, talking and running his fingers in patterns despite the burn.

It doesn't matter, though. She isn't waking up.

~

They end up taking her to the hospital. Praying they don't take her away from them if they find something unusual.

She's woken up a few times, but her panic just made the doctors put her back under. They said she was drugged, and they needed to flush her system. Again, they hoped it stayed that way.

The press conference didn't happen. Neither did any other media, for that matter. The paddock was closed down due to the security issue.

Seb had done his best to explain to Christian that her father is a madman and had made threats but now was acting on them. The team principle is now working with security to try and figure out how to keep him away.

The boys left the room in shifts. Usually having to send a runner to go get essential items for survival.

They watched over her with vigor. Trapped in the ICU for three days. Only leaving when they were forced out by the nurses for the night.

Max was the one to greet her when she woke up. His fingers thread through her hair in hopes of keeping her from thrashing and trying to get out.

It worked.

"I feel awful." She rasps. Her throat is dry from lack of use and lack of liquids. She lets Max's piercing value eyes ground her as she gets her bearings. "Why am I-"

"It doesn't matter right now. You're alive, and that's what counts." Max brings her knuckles up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against them.

Now that she's awake, Seb forced the boys to take proper showers and eat a real meal. Claiming that she's going to need them at their best.

Hanna stays with her while they are gone. Something she didn't know would be best until a female doctor came in with unexpected news.

"Have you ever had a menstrual cycle before?" She asks carefully.

The girls eyes dart between Hanna and the doctor. "I'm not sure, actually. I've never bled before if that's what you mean."

The doctor sighed sympatheticly. "While we were running some tests, we did an ultrasound. We wanted to make sure you weren't pregnant, and we needed to also treat the baby just in case. We found that your uterus and ovaries have been removed."

The girl looks at Hanna. The older woman is on the brink of tears. "Thank you." She says. "Can you give us a moment please?"

The doctor nods her head politely then leaves the two alone.

"I'm confused. What does that - Can I not -"

Hanna shakes her head. The only confirmation she needed. Then she's mourning something she didn't even know she lost until now. Something she didn't even know she wanted.

Her father had put her through a lot as a child. She was drugged and unconscious for weeks sometimes.

Another thing he stole from her.

~

Seb is comforting an emotional Hanna when the trio returns. All of them are frantic now. Desperate to get into the room.

Seb stops them before they can get there. "Be gentle with her." Is all he says before letting them in.

She looks like she's not in her body anymore. Like her mind is in another place.

All of them file on around her. Max and Charles are taking the chairs, and Lando slides himself onto the end of the bed with her.

"He took something else." She stared at the wall. Lando touches her arm but gets no reaction. “My reproductive organs are gone.”

Their faces are shocked. Her period isn't something she brought up. They just assumed she's private about it or it's irregular because of everything she's been through. Now, it makes sense. Why she's never run out of hygiene products and why she never complains of cramps in her lower abdomen.

They don't mourn for her, but with her.

"It doesn't change the fact that we love you."

~

Going home felt scary. Like somehow he would be there waiting to snatch her up.

Max is hyper aware of everything. Charles is attempting to hold off any media that wants the story. Lando is dutifully keeping phones away from all of them. Then there's her, sitting, breathing, wondering if she deserves to be here with them still.

The bed is her new home. She spends her days recovering there. Everyone else is bustling about as she waits for the hours to slink by.

Max is the first to drag her out of bed. Well, not drag, more like man handle. He picks her up out of the comically large mattress and tosses her over the laps of the two boys on the couch.

She doesn't protest. Even as Max slides himself under her to join them.

"It's movie night and your turn to pick."

"Didn't I pick last week?"

"... we skipped three weeks to make it your turn again."

The boys shake their heads at Landos' poor excuse. It's a miracle they managed to come out to the world on their own.

They don't end up watching a movie. Instead, they just talk. The four cuddled up on the couch together. The comfortable atmosphere making her nerves settle.

And she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she can make it through.

~

The next race comes around far too quickly. She's not fully recovered, but she knows she wants to race.

Christian takes his time with her. He doesn't know everything, but he knows enough. He made sure to tell her that her health and safety is their number one concern.

She convinces him that she's fine.

The weekend goes smoothly until Q3 of qualifying. The car decides to not stear as she tries to take a corner during a flying lap, sending her straight into the wall.

Nobody understands what happened. She had seen it coming and tried to adjust, but nothing helped. She felt useless.

All these times, she could have prevented these terrible outcomes, and yet it feels as though something is actively working against her.

Her race engineer and Christian are quick to reassue her that it's not her fault. Logically, she knows that. Mentally and emotionally, she keeps blaming herself.

It's almost as if the car is trying to kill her.

The same thing happens on Sunday during the race. The brakes malfunction, and she hits the wall at speed that makes the crowd go quiet.

Thankfully, she's fine. The boys continue their race, knowing she's okay.

The next race is filled with more of the same. All four wheels of the car manage to puncture and leave her stranded along the track. Then, during the race, she struggles to deaccelerate.

It's unsafe, and her team knows it, but she refuses to retire the care. She manages to cross the line in third in a heap of exhaustion. Nobody knows how she managed that one.

The notes have started showing up in random places around Monaco. She feels like she's being watched all the time.

They tried to go out to a party one night just for her to end up with a spiked drink and an unknown male figure trying to take her somewhere else.

The boys were quick to put a stop to that and take her home.

Race after race, it seems as though everything is working against her. She can't help her team or Max in regards to racing. She's left to just watch and celebrate whichever of the two championship contenders comes out on top of each race.

It's high, and it's low, and she is definitely ready for the much needed summer break.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @jjsprobablywrong

@chanshintien

[raikk7nen]

can we talk about how senna didnt even die doing what he loved. yes he died ontrack but it was in a car he hated, on a weekend that was wrecking him emotionally, in the middle of a run of horrible results that he desperately wanted to come back from. he was struggling with the car and with the team and with himself and thats how he died.

his old retired rival who he begged to come back, who he attributed all of his motivation to, never returned. this new young hotshot is breathing down his neck every race and beating him in a car that probably isnt even legal. he was practically promised a car and a team that would dominate, just to have it all taken away from him by a rule change. he watched a close friend narrowly escape a crash with his life, then a day later watched another person die in front of him.

and then its lap 5 at imola. the safety car is going too slow and hes waving for them to speed up to get some heat in the tyres. on lap 6, the car is jittering and snapping over the bumps in the tarmac. and he comes to tamburello on lap 7 with all the weight of the world on him.

he did not die happy.