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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year ago

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hiii, love your stuff<33 could I maybe request a gen z reader blurb where after getting in a crash due to a mechanical issue everyone worries about her and she’s pissed because she felt seen as weak and vulnerable?? THANK U SO MUCH

life goes on

pairing: genz!driver x '23!grid and some seb cameo

summary: see request :)

word count: 2.1k

warnings: crash, blood, injury, anger issues, tears (idk if that’s a warning), media talks bad about genz!driver, foul language

note: thank you so much for the request!! i am not quite sure if i should write the genz!driver stories in a you pov or a she/her pov, what would you prefer, please let me know, ty :))

masterlist / taglist

It started with a bad day. FP1 was shit, FP2 was also not great. Her day was just not great. Free practice 3 was better, the car had finally responded to her again. In the first two laps, everything went smooth. She was already singing Smooth Operator in her head. But suddenly the car stirred, luckily she saved herself and didn’t crash, but she did retire from the session.

Her engineer and her sat together for Qualifying. She told him everything she noticed whilst driving.

„I feel like the steering wheel is not responding on time. It’s like it’s two seconds delayed, which is not good.“

He nodded and wrote it down on a notepad. „I feel like there’s nothing we can do, I can check with the mechanics, but qualifying is in two hours, which may not be enough time“, her race engineer told her. She sighed. The last two days were bad for y/n, she hasn’t slept good for at least four days. She nodded and told him that she’d be in her drivers room.

As qualifying started, she only got in one good lap before she had to retire. She was right, her steering wheel indeed had a slight delay. Which made turning corners very hard. She ended Q1 in P19, her worst result in qualifying yet. She was disappointed, in herself and in the car.

Her mechanics tried to fix the issue until the race started, but with no hope. She prepared herself for the race, knowing it would not be an easy one. She was scared, like scared shitless. She tried to call Sebastian during Q2, but he did not pick up. Opting for a quick text, she asked him to call her back as soon as possible.

Lewis heard what happened to y/n car during Q1 and wanted to comfort the young driver. With long strides he went to her motorhome. Her engineer just pointed to her drivers room as soon as he saw Lewis approach him. Three short knocks. Her head snapped up as the door opened. Lewis was standing there, looking pitiful and held his arms out.

„Are you okay, darling?“, he asked her as she nuzzled her head in his shoulders. She let her tears fall freely. Shaking her head she told him how she felt. „The steering wheel is delayed, which is so difficult to drive with and also dangerous. But my mechanics can’t fix it, they don’t know why it’s happening and a whole reboot of the system would take too long! I’m scared, Lewis. I don’t know what to do.“

His hand firm on her backside, he just held the young woman. Telling her to retire to not cause a crash would’ve been the best thing. Tell her to refuse to race. But he didn’t, knowing the girl and her ambitions. She would race, no matter what. She didn’t want to be seen as weak or even worse, girly.

She was girly, but not in the sense of racing. She was just as ‚manly‘ as the other drivers.

„I know that you will make the right decision about the whole situation“, Lewis told her. Oh, how wrong he was.

Q3 was finished with Verstappen on pole, as always, Perez on P2 and Leclerc on P3. Happy to see Charles starting this high, she went into the race with somewhat a good feeling. The first three laps were okay, she sank down to P20, DeVries overtook her with ease on the second corner, as she slowed down as much as possible to control the car. But the longer the race was, the more angry she got. It was not fair, the steering wheel was just not responding.

On lap 24 y/n’s car crashed. In corner eight, her steering wheel stopped working. Instead of a turn, the car just went straight into the pit wall. The front wing smashed against the wall, squashing it against her own car. Her head was spinning. What just happened?

„Red flag, the FIA just announced a red flag in corner eight. Seems like y/l/n crashed. Let’s hope she’s fine.“

Several team radios went through.

„Charles, y/n crashed in corner eight, there’s a red flag, be careful.“

„Lewis, there is a red flag.“

„Be careful, Max. You are approaching corner eight where y/n has had a crash.“

And many more. Everyone was concerned. What has happened? What did she do to crash her car like that. Was she responsive? Responsible? What was going on?

„y/n, please respond. The race has been stopped. What happened?“, her race engineer tried to speak to her, she was non-responsive.

„What the fuck, what happened?! Is she responsive? Are the medics on their way?“, Lewis was the first to address the situation. „We don’t know, we don’t see any medics yet, Lewis.“

And as Max pulled up to corner eight he hopped out of his car. He ran towards hers and yelled for her, to show him a sign that she was still alive, without a response. He was worried, he was always worried when someone crashed, but he was extra worried when she did.

„y/n! What happened? Are you okay? Please give me a sign!“, he tried it again, with no luck. He saw her helmet move, the flashy colours moving from side to side. „Ach godzijdank Ah, thank god“, he mumbled.

The medics arrived and ushered Max to the side. Taking her out of the car and laying her on a spinal board. Transporting her into the ambulance.

She was devastated. It was not her fault she crashed. But the media didn’t know that. They would accuse her of crashing yet another car. That she wasn’t good enough to be in Formula 1. They would report about her as if she wasn’t a human being and just something they could play with. They would talk about her like a doll. It was not fair.

Meanwhile on the paddock the talking began. Lewis was the most worried, he should’ve just told her to refuse racing. What if she suffered a serious injury? Like a neck or spine injury and couldn’t race anymore. It was his fault, that’s what he thought.

Lando was worried too, not really knowing what happened, he was just worried. She could be injured. The minutes went by without any news from her. They were hard for Lando.

Even Checo, who wasn’t usually a companion of y/n, was worried. He didn’t see what happened, but he heard from Max how the crash looked - bad, it looked bad.

„We hear from the medics; y/n is okay. At least that. Let’s hope the race will continue without another crash.“

Lewis released a breather, not knowing he heals so much air in his lungs. He was glad y/n was okay. He still felt bad, always feeling responsible for her. And now that she crashed, his head was spinning with gut wrenching thoughts and worry.

The FIA announced the green flag and the race continued without y/n. When she got back to her garage, her motorhome, she expected a angry team principal, angry mechanics and engineers, expect she was greeted with relieved sighs and shoulder droppings. Her engineer was the first one to embrace her. He told her how sorry he was and how everything was definitely not her fault.

She was still angry, no points, no race, no happy ending for that day. Everything was shit. She had a shit day that race. And it was not even her own fault.

Her team principal came towards her, gripping her shoulders hard and said: „I know this seems bad, it is, but we can fix it. I wish I could send you home, but media still awaits.“

So she waited, she waited lap after lap until eventually Max won the race. She waited until her PR got her out of the drivers room and took her to the media pen, where the post race conferences will be held.

Sky Sports interviewed the todays winner. So, y/n waited for Max to finish. She hoped he would never finish, that she would never have to face the camera and talk about the incident.

But that didn’t happen.

„Hello y/n, how do you feel? Everything okay, no pain?“, the nice interviewer asked her. „Uh, yeah, everything is fine“, she struggled with her answer, not believing herself that everything was fine.

„Can you tell me what happened? We just saw you crashing?“ - „Uhm, yeah“, she looked towards her media PR, what was she allowed to say? She shook her head - no bad words about her team. „I-, uh, I lost control of my steering wheel.“

The interviewer nodded. „We saw you retire from the race after Q1, having struggled already in FP1 and 2. Did you have problems with your steering wheel during them as well?“

She sighed. She was tired, her neck ached and she just wanted to be in her bed.

„I mean, kind of, yeah you could say I struggled with it during free practice.“

If she told the interviewer that she struggled with it during the whole yesterday and today, she would’ve bad mouthed the team.

„Last question for today, y/n. We asked Twitter for some comments, would you be so kind to make a statement to some of them?“

She really didn’t want to, knowing exactly what most of them had to say; women don’t belong in motorsports, etc.

„Sure“, she sighed. Her PR nodded, happy that y/n decided not to refuse.

„Alright, @motodports_2 said: That’s the second time this season that y/n crashed her car and we are only on the 7th race. What do you have to say to that?“

She closed her eyes, the headache creeping in like a madman with a desire to kill. „That’s true, that was the second crash of the season. And I am sorry for that, my team doesn’t deserve me crashing that many times during the season. I apologise.“

Sebastian was sitting at home, watching the race from his couch. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. The team doesn’t deserve a driver that crashes so much? Bullshit.

He missed her calls earlier that day, he wished he would’ve picked up his phone or at least called her back. But what she was telling to that interviewer was absolute bull.

Charles, who was next in line, also couldn’t believe the stuff you were telling Sky Sports.

„Okay, @maydrive says: The way y/n is throwing away her career in F1 with those shenanigans. Get a grip, will you?“, the interviewer read from the screen in front.

Charles was shocked, he never had to respond to any comments like that. How was she experiencing something like that?

„Uh yeah, thank you @maydrive for that. I will try to get a grip, and you are right, I am throwing away my F1 career like that, but I don’t want that, that’s why I will keep trying to get better“, her eyes were starting water. Just don’t let those tears fall, y/n. They want to see her cry, don’t give them the satisfaction of it.

„Thank you, y/n. Rest up and good evening!“

Her PR pulled her away and onto the next interview. After all that, she was exhausted. Exhausted and angry. How could they be asking her questions like that? Not fair.

Back in her garage, she let the emotions flow. Tears were streaming down her face, sobs were heard and her body was shaking. Her PR handed y/n her phone, leaving her again with a gentle pat to the shoulder.

Seb was calling her.

„Before you say anything, don’t let them treat you like that ever again. Not your fault, if you had problems with the steering wheel, it is not your place to apologise“, Seb interrupted her, before she could even sob into the phone. He heard sniffles. „Don’t cry, liebes dear. You did nothing wrong today.“

„Seb, I wish you’d be here“, she sobbed into the phone. It broke his heart. Comforting someone over the phone was hard, much more if the person being comforted was a teenager.

„It’s gonna be okay, life goes on, okay?“, he told her. „I just feel so weak and vulnerable. They hate me, they always find something wrong with my driving.“

„You are not weak! Who told you that?“, a voice from behind her sounded from the dark. Fernando Alonso stepped out of the shadow. Seb instantly recognised the older spaniards voice over the phone. Glad y/n was not alone in a time like this.

Fernando embraced her. Hugging her tight and firmly. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, beating like crazy. „Breathe with me, y/n.“

They were standing in her motorhome, embraced in one another. If a camera had noticed, headliners would say: Alonso and y/l/n dating confirmed? But there was no camera around.

She had her family here in F1. She belonged here, just as much as any other driver. She was not at fault. She was not weak or vulnerable. She was strong.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fernando alonso #gen z problems #gen z funny #genz!driver #female driver #genz driver #crash #f1 crash

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

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okay so fernando crashing (that one crash in 2016) and y/n almost dying because thats the scariest crash ever, and a little onto how she takes care of injured fernando at home afterwards

just died and already joking (fa14)

the roar of the engines was a familiar symphony to y/n, a comforting background hum during race weekends. but today, at the 2016 australian grand prix, the sound was a jarring dissonance. a tremor ran through the mclaren garage as the race director's voice crackled over the speakers, "red flag at turn 3. incident involving car number 14..."

y/n's blood turned to ice. fernando's car number. the television mounted on the wall flickered to life, showing a replay of the corner. fernando, attempting a daring overtake, misjudged the speed of the haas behind him. the cars made contact, a sickening crunch echoing even through the speakers. fernando's mclaren, a once sleek machine, became a crumpled orange projectile, launched into the air before slamming back down onto the tarmac.

a suffocating silence descended upon the garage. y/n's vision swam. her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle against the rising tide of panic. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, threatening to burst free. she grabbed the nearest technician's arm, her voice barely a whisper, "is he alright? is fernando alright?"

the technician, a young man with a perpetually worried expression, could only offer a helpless shake of his head, glued to the replay on the screen. every agonizing second stretched into an eternity. then, a miracle. the camera panned to the wreckage, and a figure, miraculously, emerged from the cockpit. it was fernando, limping slightly, but alive.

relief washed over y/n in a wave so powerful it nearly knocked her off her feet. tears streamed down her face, a mixture of terror and gratitude. the garage erupted in cheers, the tension finally broken. but for y/n, the ordeal was far from over.

the sterile white of the hospital room pressed in on y/n. the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only counterpoint to the crushing silence in her head. tears welled up again, blurring the figure of fernando lying motionless on the bed. she sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, desperately willing herself not to make a sound.

a groan escaped fernando's lips, his eyelids fluttering open. he squinted against the harsh light, his vision slowly focusing on the hunched figure by his bedside. "y/n?" he rasped, his voice dry.

y/n's head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and something else, something fierce. "fernando!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and rushing to his side.

he tried for a weak smile. "so, that's how they greet their favorite formula one driver in this place, huh? with tears?"

the lightness in his voice did nothing to dispel the storm brewing in hers. "don't you joke about this, fernando alonso!" she erupted, her voice surprisingly strong despite the tremor that ran through it. "do you have any idea what i've been through these past hours? seeing you on that screen, mangled..." her voice broke, a sob escaping her lips.

he reached out a hand, wincing slightly at the movement, but she swatted it away. "don't touch me," she said fiercely, tears streaming down her face now. "don't you understand? i almost lost you! and you... you joke?"

fernando's smile faltered. he saw the raw fear reflected in her tear-filled eyes, a fear that mirrored his own. he squeezed his eyes shut, the memory of the crash flashing before him.

"y/n," he said, his voice softer now, "i'm okay. i'm here. look at me."

she hesitated, then slowly met his gaze. the anger in her eyes had softened, replaced by a deep well of worry.

"i know you are scared," he continued, his voice laced with sincerity. "believe me, i am too. but i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere. not as long as you need me."

y/n's breath hitched. she sank onto the chair beside the bed, burying her face in her hands. a choked sob escaped her lips. he wasn't wrong. the thought of losing him was unbearable.

fernando shifted slightly, wincing again. "hey," he said gently, "how about we ditch the tears and celebrate the fact that i'm alive? we can order your favorite greasy hospital food, how does that sound?"

a watery chuckle escaped y/n's lips. "you're unbelievable," she mumbled, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"just the best kind of unbelievable," he said with a wink, a hint of his usual bravado returning.

y/n shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. maybe, just maybe, they could find some normalcy amidst the wreckage. as long as they had each other.

days later, fernando lay sprawled on the couch in their apartment, a bandage adorning his forehead and a deep purple bruise blossoming across his left cheek. the crash, which y/n called an absolute shitshow, had left him with a cracked rib and a severe case of whiplash.

y/n hovered over him like a protective hawk. "don't even think about getting up," she said sternly, her voice laced with a tremor that betrayed her worry. "the doctor said complete rest."

fernando, normally a picture of restless energy, found himself subdued. the crash had shaken him more than he cared to admit. he reached for her hand, a weak smile gracing his lips. "alright, alright, mama bear. but don't you think you're being a little overprotective?"

y/n swatted his hand playfully, the concern still evident in her eyes. "a little? fernando, you could've..." her voice trailed off, the memory of that terrifying crash still raw.

he squeezed her hand gently. "i'm okay, y/n. thanks to you keeping me grounded, literally."

the following days fell into a quiet routine. y/n transformed into a florence nightingale, fetching him food, helping him shower, and reminding him to take his medication. the normally bustling apartment became a haven of forced stillness.

one evening, as they sat in comfortable silence, fernando broke the quiet. "you know," he began, "seeing your face in the garage... that scared me more than the crash itself."

y/n looked up at him, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "me too." a beat of silence followed. "seeing you walk away from that... it was a miracle."

he pulled her close, his voice a murmur against her hair. "amore you're too good for me. you're my miracle, y/n. always."

the crash might have left physical scars on fernando, but for y/n, it was a deeper wound, a reminder of her greatest fear. yet, in the quiet moments of recovery, they found a deeper strength in their bond, a resilience forged in the crucible of fear.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso x you #fa14 #fa14 x reader #fa14 imagine #aston martin #mcalren #crash #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #australia #fia

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