#i have somethings to say to say to the stewards and the FIA

[ildiavoloro55o]

So Checo doesn’t get penalty for impeding Lando

But Carlos gets an unfair ten place grid penalty for something that wasn’t his or the team’s but the track’s fault…

[postracehair]

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

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You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

[vivwritesfics]

Hi my love 🫶🫶🫶🫶

First of all, love you

Second of all LANDO FUCKING NORRIS WON THIS FUCKING RACE

I was having a heart attack from the second he took the lead until he finished it lol

SO IN HONOUR OF THIS ICONIC WIN

Lando and reader celebrating his win in miami and just fluff and cuteness

And bonus of kiss on camera (bonus bonus points if they are not kinda public? Like nit very out there with pda and lando jaut not giving a fuck and damn near make out, maybe one of those cute ones where they pumps nose??)

I AM SO HAPPY 😭😭🫶🫶❤️❤️🥹

She leapt over the barrier. Yeah, you're not supposed to do that, but nobody was stopping her. Several members of the McLaren team helped her to get over the barrier (because God knows she couldn't have done it on her own).

Lando didn't notice at first, too busy getting congratulated by Daniel. But, when he turned himself around to pump his fist at the crowd, she was there. She was running towards him.

His arms were open in just enough time for her to run into them. Suddenly they were jumping, spinning in a circle as they jumped up and down.

"You did it! You did it! You did it!" She cried through tears.

She looked at her boyfriend, her F1 race winner boyfriend! This was something he'd been wanting for so fucking long now, since before they'd met. And, after 110 races, 15 podium and five fucking years, it finally happened.

She kissed him. Not caring much about the cameras on him, she grabbed his sweaty face and pulled it towards her own, full on kissing him in front of the cameras. She pulled away just slightly, but Lando was pulling her back, nose bumping against her own as his tongue licked into her mouth.

(It was certainly unprofessional, certainly too much for Formula One).

But they didn't take it further than that. Lando's face was red when he pulled away, and he could see the embarrassment written on her own. Tears were in her eyes as she smiled at him and Lando pulled her into his chest.

He held her there as she cried happy tears against his chest. Lando turned towards the crowd, his arm around her, keeping her hidden as she cried. But she was just so damn happy. He pumped his fist and the crowd cheered.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"This one's for you, baby," he whispered.

But there wasn't a chance for them to say much else to each other. A steward or FIA official or whoever was pulling her away so that Lando could get weighed and taken to the cool down room, and get his trophy.

She was there, screaming up at the podium as he got his trophy. Her heart was in her mouth when he threw it into the air. And, as he was doused with champagne, Max and Charles concentrating their spray of champagne, she'd never been so proud of him.

[no-144444]

false starts and unthinkable mistakes- o.piastri 81

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summary: oscar comes to you after a difficult race

pairing: oscar piastri (81) x Wolff fem reader

a/n: so yall… I wrote this on thursday before spa and guys… im feeling like a psychic now and not in a good way wtf.

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A false p1? What the fuck? He’d worked his ass off, driven perfectly, made all the right calls, and still it wasn’t enough because the car was 2 fucking kilograms underweight. It meant all his hard work was for nothing.

Fuck that.

Oscar walked through the paddock, a frown firmly on his lips as Lando and Zak tried helplessly to comfort him, but it was no use. He’d been disqualified, and you weren’t even there to comfort him. He did realise how this would have to happen someday, especially since he was dating another team’s lead engineer, but another part of him just wanted you to be there and hold him, the second he got off the podium. He wanted to share his victory with you, kiss you like the other boys were allowed to kiss their girlfriends, but Toto (also, sadly, your father) would never let you.

And then he wanted you waiting outside the stewards room for him after.

But you were probably too busy celebrating.

He walked into his room, thanking the boys for their kind words, but ultimately just wanting to be alone.

“Hi,” your soft voice surprised him. He whipped his head around to see you sitting on his bed, still in full Mercedes uniform. “Are you ok?”

He didn’t think about it, any of it. He didn’t think about the open door, all the cameras nearby, the open window that was at street level, he didn’t care.

He stalked over to you in 3 long steps, and kissed you, right then and there.

He felt you try to pull away, but his grip on your waist wouldn’t let you, as well as the arm wrapped around your neck. He wasn’t letting you go.

“Baby-“ you pulled away chuckling as he caught his breath. “Relax, I’m right here.”

He smiled, for the first time in an hour. “I know,” he took a deep breath. “Just happy to see you.”

You smiled. “How was the FIA?”

He sighed, sitting down next to you and wrapping his arms around you. “Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“I don’t care though,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “ ‘Cause you’re here.”

He felt your smile against his neck and felt a sense of pride in his chest.

“How did you sneak away so quickly?”

“My dad and I got in a fight over something stupid and he said he wanted me gone, so I left,” you shrugged.

Oscar held his breath. “Was it a fight over…?”

“Us? Yeah,” you clarified. “He wants us to break up.”

Oscar could feel his heart pounding a mile a minute. “Oh.”

“I told him he could shove it. Don’t worry Piastri, you’re stuck with me forever,” you chuckled, then pressed a comforting kiss to his neck.

He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and smirked. “Good.”

You kissed up his neck and his jaw, then landed on his lips, but pulled away when you heard the camera click.

One of the well-known photographers was at the door, looking guilty.

“Hey!” Oscar shouted, but they were already down the hall by the time you two got up.

“Fuck,” you cursed as he closed the door. “That’s going to be main news tomorrow.”

“It’s alright,” he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your head into his chest. “We’re fine.”

You nodded, trying desperately to believe him but knowing it would definitely test things, especially with your dad.

“And don’t worry about your dad. I’m going to go talk to him,” Oscar promised.

“Osc, I can’t ask you to do that, no,” you shook your head, though you really didn’t want to deal with Toto’s inevitable hissyfit. You also didn’t want to deal with all the shit the press was going to say about you two. You could hear the articles already; “Oscar Piastri and Y/n Wolff. F1 princess going for the next winner?” And other shit like “Did Toto Wolff disown his daughter after she went to McLaren?”

And you knew your dad wouldn’t hold back on details if he was asked about it. He’d tell them you’d been dating for 2 years, he’d tell them you two lived together in the off-season, and he’d tell them that he didn’t approve.

“It’s alright,” he soothed. “I’m going to have to talk to him sometime.”

You nodded, but hoped Oscar wouldn’t.

“Anyways, let’s just relax for a few hours, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You two lay together for a few hours, just watching some random show you two liked, and you fell asleep in his arms.

You two would be fine. Oscar would make sure of it.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[dizzyduck44]

So let me get this straight. This weekend

Lewis makes some sarcy comment about Lando losing the lead in the sprint.

Lando leads race start to last corner, dragging his teammates arse round in his DRS the whole way, to then gives up the win on the line against team orders.

Stewards went for a tea break during quali, arrived back for Q3.

Max gets given a single place grid drop, losing pole.

Max goes on the war path with George, squares up to him on the drivers parade, (insert swear word of choice where you think appropriate) “I hope you and your FIA buddies are happy”.

Oscar cuts the pit white line in front of Lewis and is under investigation before the cars make it to the grid. 😡

Race starts, Lewis jump starts, Lando nearly takes the lead at the first corner.

Esteban (who unbeknownst to anyone was driving his last race for Alpine) collides with Franco in the first corner.

Two corners later Lance Stroll drives into Alex and gets a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points.

Lewis gets a 5 seconds penalty for the jump start.

Liam then gets a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points for causing a collision.

Maybe from earlier contact Alex’s wing mirror decides to go solo and sits on the start finish straight.

FIA has a meltdown. They turn the pit straight into a disco light, yellow/green/yellow/green/yellow/green/yellow/green. Double yellow. We select double yellows. No back to single yellows. No we really think this should be a double yellow.

Meanwhile drivers are pottering around, Max is pumping in fastest laps, race continues until Valtteri takes out the mirror and makes a bad situation 30 times worse.

The FIA have to do something now right?

NO.

Because by now Max wants the world to burn and has started screaming he doesn’t think Lando lifted during the flag Hokey Cokey.

Well Max they ain’t got time to care about that, because Lewis and Carlos now have punctures.

Someone at the FIA remembers they employ a safety car driver for a reason and send him out.

Safety car goes through the pits so the debris can be moved. (This option was available to them 10 minutes earlier) and Lando nearly runs into the back of Lewis who suddenly slams on.

Calm decends for a few laps. Until. Yeah it’s Max again. “Anything from that yellow flag?” (Remember this later).

Safety car is coming in, cars seem confused about when Max will go. Max and Lando are on the radio saying the safety car lights are still on. Lando’s team tell him they aren’t.

We start racing.

Hell breaks loose.

The stewards decide that Lando didn’t lift during the double yellow, despite the fact they didn’t know what flag to put out, and it changed as he passed the sign. 10 second stop go penalty and 3 penalty points.

Now I am well aware there will have been people watching who have never even heard of this penalty. Apparently the last one given was 2018. For comparison, the FIA gave Max a 5 place grid drop for the same offence at the same track last year. The same year they allowed a tractor and Marshalls on the track in the pouring rain with no flags.

Lewis gets a second penalty, this time a drive through, again don’t see many of those, it’s normally penalty added to your race time. By now I swear they are just looking for penalties they haven’t handed out yet this weekend.

And a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points for Alex for causing a collision as well.

Sergio also gets investigated for dangerous driving.

BUT WAIT

We then give George a 5 second penalty and a penalty point for driving too far behind the safety car.

Post race Max continues to rant about George and how he effectively begged for the grid penalty and decides now he was asking about Lando as he thought “he had got DRS from a back marker” and wanted to be sure that was why he caught up. Note earlier comments he asked TWICE about.

Lando with zero context of what the world has just seen, takes it hard and thinks he is responsible for the whole shit show.

Oscar gets given a reprimand for his earlier pit lane incident.

Ted Kravitz has confirmed that the lights on the top of the safety car did in fact go out. But the drivers can’t see them because of a spoiler on the back of the car! The ones underneath did in fact NOT go out.

AND THEN

Fans have found Ferrari might not have lifted during the double yellows either!!!!

Seriously when pissed off fans are more on top of data than the stewards, what is even the point?

The FIA need to realise they are there for the safety of the drivers, teams and spectators. This is the point the teams need to band together and address the FIA, what were you doing for 8 minutes with debris on the track? You’ve handed out one of the harshest penalties for a situation you created. Two drivers had punctures because of a situation you created.

Honestly I know Esteban won’t be on the grid in Abu Dhabi, Lewis seems to have zero motivation to do it. Unless you are McLaren, Ferrari, RB or Alpine do you even care about this race?

Seriously so many errors were made in the running of this race today I would say strike it from the record, but Zhou and Sauber got points!!!! And that would be far too cruel.

But I leave you with this thought. The FIA can stop a race and abandon it due to poor driving standards. Does this go both ways? Can drivers stop and abandon a race for poor stewarding standards? Today would have been a strong candidate.

[starkwlkr]

she’s the boss | sebastian vettel

ferrari team principal!reader

an: for fanfic purposes, sebastian won a championship with ferrari let me be delusional sorry lewis

2015

A new season of formula 1 had started and with it came the arrival of Sebastian to Ferrari. While Sebastian was dominating the track with Red Bull, you stayed with the red team and in 2014, you were declared the new team principal. Of course the news made headlines. A woman as team principal for one of the top teams in formula 1? Would Enzo Ferrari approve of this?

But you were determined to prove you belong with the team. That was something Sebastian admired about you.

Race after race, Kimi and Sebastian finished in the points. It was clear that the season was Ferrari’s season. After each race, you always made sure to watch Kimi and Sebastian on the podium. Each podium, Sebastian made sure to wink at you. Sometimes he would even mouth a few loving words towards you.

After Sebastian’s victory in Singapore, the German had asked you to meet him for a celebratory dinner. Thinking he had asked Kimi and others from the team, you didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until he knocked on your hotel door that you finally figured it out.

“So is this a date?” You asked.

“Only if you want it to be.” Sebastian replied.

“You are such a flirt, Sebastian Vettel.” You playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’ve been told that, but it sounds so much better coming from you.”

Soon, you and Sebastian were on your way to a restaurant that he thought you would love. It wasn’t too fancy, but it was perfect for you two.

Sebastian, being the gentleman he is, made sure you felt comfortable at all times. Instead of talking about work, he wanted to get to know you better. He learned that you always loved the color red, about your siblings and that when you were younger you had a massive crush on Patrick Swayze. When your food came to the table, Sebastian took the opportunity to ask something he’s been dying to know.

“Do you think we can go on another date soon?” Sebastian asked.

“I want to, but what if the FIA thinks what we’re doing is inappropriate?”

You enjoyed being around Sebastian. Not only was he a great driver, but he was an even greater person. He always made you laugh and comforted you when you needed it. It was hard not to fall in love with Sebastian Vettel.

“Sebastian, I don’t want either of us to get fired.” You told him.

“I guess we’ll have to sneak around. God, you make me feel like a teenager again.”

So that’s what you did. Before every race, you would sneak into his driver’s room and give him a good luck kiss. He insisted on getting one from you every race, you didn’t kind of course.

It was the last race of the 2015 season and Sebastian was fighting Lewis for the championship. You were nervous, but confident that Sebastian would bring home the title. It felt like a dream come true seeing Sebastian come in first while Lewis came in third.

“Sebastian Vettel, you’re the world champion! You did it, Seb!” Sebastian heard you on the radio.

“This one’s for you!” His message warmed your heart. If only you could truly celebrate as a couple without hiding.

At the podium, Sebastian was all smiles. Who wouldn’t? He had just one his first championship with Ferrari. It was a dream come true. While you stayed with the team, Sebastian celebrated on the podium with Kimi and Lewis.

“Y/n, you’ve been called to the stewards.” Sebastian’s race engineer, Riccardo, told you. “Have we been given a penalty just now? Do you know something?”

“No . . . If Sebastian asks, tell him I’ll see him later. We have no penalty, I’m sure of that. This is probably not serious.” You tried to play it off, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Okay, if you say so.” Riccardo gave you a hug before you left.

As you walk to the stewards, people around you called your name followed by congratulations or a hug. At the moment, you didn’t even feel like celebrating. All you felt was the nerves going through your body.

Finally, you made it to the stewards office ready to face what was coming. Would you be fired for being in a relationship with one of your drivers? You hoped not.

You entered the office and saw the FIA president, Jean Todt, looking over race footage. When he noticed you, he smiled. You weren’t told he would be attending the race.

“Y/n, congratulations to you and Ferrari. You have done a great job. I hope I didn’t interrupt any celebrations yet.” Jean told you.

“No, Sebastian was still celebrating on the podium when i was called here.” You tried your best to look fine, but deep down you were scared.

“Speaking of Sebastian, he’s a great driver, isn’t he?” Oh no, here it comes.

“Yes, Ferrari is honored to have him and Kimi as well. They’re both incredible drivers”

“But what do you think about Sebastian?”

Suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jean, you know I respect you and Ferrari and Formula one so much. I don’t want to lose my job. I love this team to death. I understand what I did was inappropriate and it will never happen again, I swear by it. But if I’m no longer the team principal, I understand.” You blurted out.

All Jean did was chuckle. What?

“You think you’re fired? Y/n, Ferrari just won another championship and you think I’m going to fire you? The team would be crazy to let you go.” Jean spoke.

“Can I ask why I’m here then? Did Sebastian get a penalty?” You gasped. It would absolutely crush you if Sebastian got a penalty and he got his championship taken away.

“No, no! You’re here because I wanted to congratulate you and Sebastian on your engagement.”

What?

“I’m sorry?” You stood there more confused than ever.

“Marriage is a beautiful thing. I’m not yet married, but i know it is. I’m sure you and Sebastian will be very happy with each other.” Jean said. “I don’t want to hold you here for much longer. I don’t want Sebastian thinking you were kidnapped. Congratulations.” Jean gave you a hug.

Again, you were so confused. Did he know something? As you left the office, you saw Sebastian waiting outside with a concerned look on his face.

“What happened? Hey, talk to me.” Sebastian grabbed your hand. He was surprised you didn’t pinch or gave him a look for grabbing your hand in public.

“Did you say something to Jean about me?” You ask him.

“Like what? You know I always talk about you.” Sebastian replied. It was true. He took any opportunity to talk about you.

“Well he congratulated us on our engagement, which I didn’t know about. When were you going to tell me we were engaged?”

Oh shit, thought Sebastian.

“I might’ve told Jean that I loved you so much that I would marry you as soon as possible. To be fair, i was drunk! But that doesn’t mean it’s a lie!”

All you could do was laugh. At least he wasn’t the type of drunk to cause problems. You found it cute that he said that when he was drunk actually.

“You’re unbelievable, Seb.” You smiled at him.

“So you think we should do that? Get married?” He placed a kiss on your hand.

“When the time comes around. Come on, champ, let’s celebrate.” You finally kissed him not caring that others were around you. You were done hiding.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Taste of Temptation {2} || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Back by popular demand...possessive Daniel and his kitten who keeps getting into trouble thanks to the other drivers. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, smut, anal, cream pie, bj, cumplay WC: 5.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round 13 - Belgium “This is a good thing, babe.” Danny didn’t believe your words as he pulled you onto his lap. “People see my uniform and immediately dislike me because we are always seen escorting you guys to the stewards. The fans blame us for your penalties.”

“I get why they want to do this, but why does it have to be you,” he grumbled.

“Maybe it’s because I’m so lovable,” you suggested as you pouted and did your best impression of puppy eyes. “Who could hate this face?”

Daniel finally rewarded you with a smile as he traced your lips with his thumb. “Fine, but if I have to watch you play show pony then there’s something I get to do first.”

You were running late thanks to Danny and your thighs were slick beneath your skirt as you marched quickly through the paddock to where the FIA’s PR team were waiting. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you leave his room, knowing what a mess he had made under your skirt and that he was keeping your panties hostage. He promised he would return them after you had finished recording the interviews with McLaren and Alpine. 

“Why didn’t you jump over it?” Lando greeted as he spotted you eye up the metal barrier before deciding to walk the long way around.

“I’m in a skirt, genius.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” he shot back before giving you a friendly side hug. “I’m surprised he let you do this.”

You laughed but realised what a mistake it was as you clenched your legs together, more of his cum leaking from your pussy. “It wasn’t without conditions. Before you ask, just don’t.”

Lando wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Ew. Wasn’t going to.”

“Sure…” You rolled your eyes and was grateful that Oscar arrived so the Instagram Live feature could begin.

“What would you rather…eat brussel sprouts for the rest of your life or live in Logan’s childhood bedroom?”

“Who came up with these questions? Did your fans really send these in or are you making this up?” you asked as you pressed the back of your hand to your forehead while you considered the choices of the latest take. “Can I at least call him and ask about it? Because I’m not a fan of brussel sprouts but if he had the American flag hanging on his wall above his bed then it’s a hard pass.”

“What about my room?” Oscar offered instead.

Lando laughed behind his hand. “You had pictures of Danny on your wall so she would obviously choose that.”

Though it was no secret among the drivers that you were dating Daniel, it wasn’t something that was publicised and you narrowed your eyes at Lando before Oscar drew the attention to himself.

“Mate, what are you talking about?” Oscar joked, “I still do.”

Lando lost it and crumpled over laughing, almost taking you down with him as he clung to your arm. “Next question, next question,” he begged between the belly laughs that triggered your own and you pressed your thighs together as tight as possible. 

Just when you thought you had recovered Oscar picked up the next card and he pressed his lips together as he tried to compose himself. “I think Doohan sent this one in...Cats or dogs?” 

One look from Lando was all it took. 

“Don’t you say it,” you warned as his lips twitched. “Don’t you dare. There are children watching.”

Lando’s eye flickered to the side where Esteban and Pierre were laughing as they waited for their turn before he looked at the camera. “Doggy…” It was almost impossible to tell what he said as it turned to a high-keening screech of a laugh before he fell onto Oscar for support. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know this guy, never met him before in my life,” you rambled as you sidled out of the camera’s view before losing it yourself. “Fucking hell, Lando!”

The producer looked at you and shook his head. “Still live, Y/N.”

“Ahhh, my bad. Just give me a minute,” you wheezed as you walked off and found a bathroom. You wanted to curse Daniel for the ‘gift’ he had given you as you washed away the streaks of cum that ran down your thighs but you loved when he owned you. It wouldn’t have taken much longer for it to reach below your skirt and then the entire world would have seen the evidence.

If you thought the interview with McLaren took a turn, it was nothing compared to Alpine. The two Frenchmen were completely unhinged compared to the more innocent McLaren drivers and they knew exactly what they were doing with their turn of phrase. 

“What do you enjoy more, overtaking on a straight or a corner?” you asked as you bent the question card nervously. 

“Easy. Straight,” Esteban answered first. “You get to go faster and push harder.”

“Ah, yeah,” Pierre agreed with a nod. “I know what you mean. But I like a tight corner because you have to control yourself on the entry or you could hurt yourself but once you’re in you can push the limits too.” He demonstrated the ‘corner’ overtake with his fingers, curling two digits suggestively and winked at the camera.

“Is there a priest in the paddock?” you asked as you hid behind the cue card. “These two boys need God.”

You saw the smirk on Pierre’s face before he opened his mouth and you jumped in front of him, clamping a hand over his lips. “That was not an invitation to make a joke about missionary or praying on your knees or whatever other dirty thought crossed your mind. Got it?”

“Got it,” he laughed as your hand fell away and he turned you to face the camera that was still streaming. “You did it for me.”

The frustrated sound you made only caused more laughter and you tossed the remaining question cards into the air. “I think that’s enough torturing me for one day. If you need therapy after watching this like I do, feel free to send the bill to Alpine HQ in Enstone; care of Pierre Gasly.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned against the door to Danny’s room, taking a few deep breaths as you readied yourself to face him knowing he had watched the live feed. You didn’t expect him to suddenly open the door, and you tumbled back into his arms with a surprised squeak.

“I was on my way to find you, kitten,” he whispered as his arms enveloped you and he stepped back, taking you with him as he kicked the door closed again. He walked you to the small bathroom and laced his finger with yours, turning on the tap and lathering the soap over your palms. “You don’t know where Pierre’s mouth has been.”

You peered up into the mirror as the warm water washed away the touch of another man’s mouth on them and met his eyes watching you swallow. “I didn’t know they would ask those questions.”

His cheeks twitched before he stopped the dark smile from cresting and he rested his chin on your shoulder as his damp hands ran down your curves to the hem of your skirt. “Sex sells, kitten. Every marketing team knows that, even the FIA.”

His hands drew your skirt up and you gasped as he pushed you forward, bending you over the vanity. “I thought we had a deal…” he tutted as he felt the dry skin of your thighs that he parted. 

“I had to,” you whispered breathlessly as you watched his reflection, his doubtful eyebrow lifting while he pushed his jeans down his legs. “Everyone would have seen.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled in your ear as he grabbed your knee and lifted it to the cold bench top. “Everyone would know who you belonged to.” His palm clamped over mouth to stifle the cry as he speared your cunt and your eyes fluttered shut as he filled you completely. “Who do you belong to, kitten?”

You lashed your tongue across his palm and he eased his grip, smearing your saliva over your chin as he reached for your throat instead. His fingers tightened as he waited for an answer and you pushed yourself back against him with a moan. “You.”

His deeply satisfied growl had your cunt clenching and he snapped his hips forward with a pace you couldn’t match. All you could do was plant your hands on the mirror and surrender yourself to the pleasure he gave you. 

“No more interviews. No more videos,” Danny stated as he grazed his teeth over your shoulder. “If someone asks, you send them my way.”

Your head was spinning as you rode the high of your orgasm and you nodded though you couldn’t think clearly. You would have said yes to anything he asked when he drove you to that dreamlike state. 

“Do you know how crazy it makes me to see you with them?” You yelped as he dug his teeth into your skin and the fog in your mind began to clear. “I want to be the only one who makes you laugh, who makes you smile. I can’t wait to have you all to myself for three weeks.”

His hips slowly rocked against you as he watched clarity return to your eyes. “What do you have planned?”

The smirk he gave you made your heart stutter and he pulled out leaving you empty. “Lots.” 

His fingers trailed through your dripping folds, gathering your slick before circling your ass and you moaned as he pressed a digit in. Your forehead dropped to the cool mirror and your breath steamed up the glass as he added another finger, stretching you ready for him. 

“You’ll find out in good time,” he promised before you felt his tip replace his fingers. “Relax, kitten.”

He gripped your hips and his thumbs massaged your lower back, easing the tense muscles before he pushed forward and your breath left your lungs in a low moan that he echoed. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight.”

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before you grew impatient and rolled your hips, silently begging him to start fucking you. If you were in a hotel or his apartment he would have teased you until you were crying with need and loudly begging him but the driver room wasn’t soundproof enough for that. And, he had his own schedule of appointments he needed to get to before someone came looking for him. 

“We’re gonna try this again, kitten.” His voice was deep and husky as he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill this pretty little ass before I go to my interview and if you’re a good girl I might let you have these when I get back.” He reached into his jeans halfway down his thighs and pulled out your panties, balling them into his fist as he lifted them to his nose so he could inhale your scent with a hum. “Deal?”

“Yes, fine, Danny, just please fuck me,” you begged shamelessly as you reached down your front and teased yourself. He chuckled as he felt your body tighten around him before he pushed your hand aside and circled your clit himself.

“Hold on, kitten, and keep quiet.”

You bit your lip as he roughly palmed your ass, spreading your cheeks wide so he could watch how well you took every long inch of him. He shifted behind you, oh so subtly, but the change in angle made stars dance across your vision and your jaw fell slack with a silent moan.

Your palms were slipping across the mirror with every hard rut of his hips, your hands smearing the glass with the fine layer of sweat that coated your entire body. Your legs began to shake as the pressure built in your core and his breath warmed your ear as he grunted with the tightening he felt.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he praised with a whisper. “Come all over me, let me feel you.”

You teeth clenched as your orgasm ripped through you, shattering your world into splinters of light and stars only to explode again when he reached over your hip and flicked your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, holy shit,” Danny breathed against your neck as you shuddered in his arms and saw wet streaks running down your legs to the floor. “God, you’re perfect.”

He kissed your shoulder as he eased out of your ass slowly, small whimpers filling the room as your core throbbed with aftershocks. His kisses trailed up your neck and you craned your head so you could reach his lips, tasting a hint of coffee on his tongue.

“I have to go,” he murmured against your lips but still he made no effort to leave.

“Then go,” you dared, turning in the cage his arms had made around you as you pulled your skirt back into place.

His eyes narrowed at the challenge before a smarmy smile grew and he kissed your forehead as he stepped away. “Okay.”

“You’re meant to stay,” you muttered as you crossed your arms.

His deep laugh echoed through the bathroom as he pulled his jeans up and left. “You young ones think you invented everything. I’ve been pulling the reverse psychology card since you were in preschool, kitten. I’ll see you later.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, only making him laugh more on his way out the door. “Old man.”

“Heard that. I don’t need hearing aids yet, love.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing and he paused at the sound to send you a wink and blow a kiss before he was gone.

You still had a few minutes before you needed to make your way to HQ and as you sat down, tenderly, you noticed your panties on the coffee table. You started to reach for them but paused and looked around the room suspiciously before sitting back and shaking your head.

“Not falling for it,” you stated aloud just in case he was somehow listening. “Nice try, babe, but I’m not going to take the bait.”

The three week break did not go as planned. After the car’s poor performance in Belgium, Daniel and Max had been called to the factory for some much needed testing and upgrades. Not wanting to spend your holiday in the tiny city of Milton Keynes, Daniel had given you keys to his apartment in Monaco and one of his credit cards with the demand that you spoil yourself while he isn’t there to do it for you.

You were surprised to see his name pop up on your phone in the middle of the day but you quickly answered it with a smile. “Hey, aren’t you busy?”

“Just taking a little break.” He sounded tired and you wished he had video called so you could see his face. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to Rejuvenate, remember? Getting a massage, maybe a facial too.”

“I could give you one of those, the facial not the massage. Though I could probably manage that too.” 

“You have the hands for it, but I think they would wander too much to actually massage me properly.” The spa was just up ahead and you slowed your walk so you could keep talking a minute more. “I miss you.”

“Yeah? Me too, kitten,” he chuckled softly and the sound was so intimate you could have sworn he was right next to you. “I’ll see you soon.”

The soothing scent of lavender and jasmine welcomed you as you stepped inside the boutique spa. You immediately began to relax as you undressed and lay down on the massage table, draping a towel over your lower half while you waited for the masseuse to arrive. The sounds of gentle ocean waves and whales singing started to fill the room and you shifted on the table as you settled into a comfortable position and your vision narrowed to the small circle your face rested in. 

The door creaked open and you heard the tinkle of glass jars before the cork on one was unstopped with a pop.

“Special Offer: Afternoon Delight with a happy ending?”

You jumped at the deep voice and nearly fell off the table as you turned to see Danny oiling his hands up in the candlelight. “What are you doing here?”

He looked exactly as you had imagined after the phone call, handsome, as always, but exhaustion left dark smudges beneath his eyes that wrinkled with the smile he gave you. He crossed the narrow space as you reached for him, your lips reuniting with desperate need after almost a week apart and he pulled away breathless.

“I’m taking a little break, heading back in the morning. But I needed one night with my kitten.” His slick hands warmed your back as he held you close. “I’m not going to let this oil go to waste by the way, lay down.”

Danny whipped the towel away from you and hummed as he eyed your body up with the hunger of a man who had been starving for a week. The look was one reflected in your eyes as he untied his robe and let it hang open for you to see he hadn’t only been oiling his hands.

“I’m glad you found the right room,” you commented as you bit your lip and laid down on your back.

His lips twitched as he reached for the opened jar and drizzled the warm coconut oil over your chest. “This time. Don’t ask me how many rooms there are in this place.”

Your breasts bounced as you giggled and he cupped them as he worked the oil into your skin. A contented sigh fell from your parted lips as you relaxed under his ministrations and your nipples peaked at the touch. The air rushed from you with a gasp when he pinched one sharply and you felt the jolt all the way down to your core.

“So responsive,” he growled as one hand traced a line to your navel and continued further, slipping between your legs and feeling how wet you were for him. “Hmm, I wonder…”

“What?” you asked curiously as you fought the urge to squirm.

“Have you thought about piercing these? I think you’d enjoy it,” he asked as he pinched your nipple and curled his fingers deep in your cunt at the same time, your back arching off the table with a moan. “Make you even more sensitive.”

His fingers were working you to a frenzy and you couldn’t think clearly as he put the idea in your head but every time your walls started to flutter he slowed down with a teasing chuckle. 

“Fuck, Danny, I need you,” you begged as you reached for his cock and stroked the hard length. “Please.”

“Have you been a good girl?” he asked as he watched your hand sliding up and down his shaft, his dick glistening with oil.

“Yes,” you whined. “I haven’t come since you left, I haven’t touched myself.”

He kissed you messily with teeth and tongue as he palmed your clit and he inhaled your cry of ecstasy as he gave you the release you needed. “Open up, kitten,” he ordered as he pulled you up to the top of the table and left your head hanging over the edge. He fisted his cock and ran the weeping tip over your lips and you flicked your tongue out to taste him. “Relax your throat, babygirl.”

You let your head fall back and his hands massaged the column of your throat as he pushed past your lips and coconut overpowered the taste of his musk on your tongue. You ran your hands over your chest, slicking them up with oil before grabbing his ass and digging your nails in to spur him on.  

“That’s it, kitten, use those claws,” he urged as his glutes tensed beneath your hands with each thrust into your mouth. 

Spittle ran over your lips and your eyes watered as he abused your mouth and your body responded with a throb deep in your core. Getting him off was a sure way of getting yourself off as you had found out and you prided yourself on making his knees weak. 

After crossing your legs to give yourself friction you turned all your focus on pleasuring Danny, teasing him as he so often did to you with an oiled finger. A deep groan filled the room and Daniel lost his rhythm as you curled your finger and found the spot like he had taught you to.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, kitten,” he warned as his cock seemed to swell even more, making breathing impossible. Tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes and his fingers tightened around your throat as if he could touch himself before he growled through his gritted teeth and pulled out. Hot ropes of cum spurted across your lips and cheeks before he released a shuddering breath and placed a steadying hand on the table beside you.

It didn’t take him long to recover before he reached over to the service table and placed two items over your eyes. “There’s your facial, love.”

You licked your lips and hummed at the taste of him before picking the items up to see them. “You really put the ‘cum’ in cucumber.” He grinned as you took a bite of one before tossing the other at him. “Go on, high performance athlete, it's healthy for you. Cucumber has lots of vitamins, plus it's boosted with a shot of protein.”

He dodged the cum covered slice with a laugh and pulled his robe back around his body. “Sorry, I’ve already had my protein shake for the day. Does this place have showers?”

You accepted the hand he offered to help you sit up and pointed to the curtain hiding a door. “How did you manage this?”

“Turned up the charm, kitten,” he winked as he stepped into the bathroom, beckoning you to follow with an outstretched hand. “But it was the cash that won them over.”

You caught the washcloth he tossed over and wiped away his facial while he found the right temperature that you both could agree on. When your face was clean, you stepped under the cascade and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you for coming. You look like you could do with a nap.”

He returned the embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head as the water washed over his back. “I always want a nap after coming,” he joked before tipping your chin back with his finger, a sombre look on his face. “How have you been sleeping?”

“It’ll be better tonight,” was all you could say, anything more would have only made his departure in the morning even harder. “How much longer do you think testing will take?”

He sighed heavily and grabbed a sample size bottle of body wash, squirting it into his hand before lathering it up on his chest. “Another week maybe, hopefully just a few days.”

He pulled you against him and shimmied to share the suds, and lighten the mood, and you giggled as his chest hairs tickled your skin. He visibly relaxed at the sound of your laugh and you cupped his face to feel the muscles pulling into a smile.

“Ready to go home?” you asked softly.

He brushed a quick kiss over your lips and shut off the shower with a nod. “Probably should get going. Max invited us out while everyone’s in town.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“The usual suspects.” He shrugged his shoulders as he started drying himself. “Lando and Charles at least, maybe Pierre if he hasn’t gone back to Milan yet. Carlos too?”

Every time he had a get together he seemed to invite more of his fellow drivers and it was finally changing how the media portrayed him as he was photographed with them. “Max is starting to collect drivers like Pokémon. You know, like that app that came out a few years ago…gotta catch ‘em all.”

Daniel’s face pinched in pain, his brows furrowed together as his upper lip curled back with a groan. “An app? Gen Z strikes again.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyelashes bashed at him innocently but you couldn’t hold the facade as you slapped his chest with a laugh. “I’m kidding, babe, I know it was a Netflix show first.”

“You’re funny, really,” he chuckled when he saw you suppressing your smile and it finally broke through. “Get dressed before I bend you over my knee and spank you.”

The cocktails had been far stronger than you thought and you no longer felt the cold out on the back deck of Max’s yacht. You had shrugged your jacket off as heat flushed through you and let the sea breeze kiss your bare arms while Danny had gone to get you a glass of water.

“So when are we going to make another video?” Pierre asked as he stepped out onto the deck to join you in leaning against the rail overlooking the bright city lights on the skyline.

“It’s only been a week,” you said as he bumped your shoulder and you pushed him back. “How’s things going with Kika?”

A bright smile graced his lips at your friend's name, the handful of dates they had been on seeming to have been a good start. “I'm heading to Paris in a few days to see her. Hey, you should come too. She’d be happier getting you over roses.”

“Oh thanks, I’m reduced to being just a gift now, huh?”

He draped an arm over your shoulder and laughed heartily. “I can tie a little bow around you, if you want.”

“What’s the penalty for breaking a few fingers?” Daniel wondered aloud as he stood in the kitchen watching Pierre touch you.

“What did you expect?” Kelly laughed, announcing her quiet arrival into the room. “She’s pretty and surrounded by rich, good looking guys. She’s too young for you anyway.”

The water from the tap overflowed the glass and wet Daniel’s hand before he turned it off and faced Max’s girlfriend. “That’s pot calling the kettle...”

You slipped out from under Pierre’s arm and shook your head. “Sorry, buddy, there’s only one guy that gets to tie me up.”

Leaving the Frenchman chuckling, you turned and found Danny with a very full glass of water and smiled gratefully as you took it. “Everything alright?”

He waited until you had drunk a few mouthfuls before taking the glass and placing it on the table. Your lips parted in surprise as he pulled you into his arms and captured them, his tongue dancing with yours without care that you weren’t alone. He was usually so careful and controlled outside the privacy of four walls but there was some need driving his passion as his hand trailed down your back to squeeze your ass.

He chuckled as he pulled away, brushing the pad of his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips and spying the desire in your eyes to take things further. He glanced over your shoulder with a smirk before turning his attention back to you and said, “Now it is.”

—

You knew Danny wasn’t pleased that you were going to Paris with Pierre but there was only so much to do in Monaco on your own. Lando had kept you company for a day, borrowing Max’s jet ski while he was away, but then he was heading to the McLaren factory for his own testing so you had taken up Pierre’s offer.

You did have one surprise in store for Danny that you knew would make him happy when you saw him, and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week to hurry up and arrive.

“Say cheese,” Pierre said as he shoved his phone in your face after gathering it from the security scanner along with his carryon luggage.

The security guard rolled his eyes with a look that said he was over dealing with celebrities and he waved you through with a sharp, “Next!”

“Get out of my way,” you growled as you walked through the metal detector.

“Step this way, please,” the man said as he pointed to the big x-ray machine.

“But, I didn’t-” you pointed to the metal detector that hadn’t made a sound but he cut you off.

“It’s a random selection.”

“Random my ass,” you muttered under your breath as you stepped into the machine and pulled the finger at Pierre who was still videoing you. The camera shook as he tried not to laugh out loud and he gave you the thumbs up as the x-ray spun around with its scan.

“Oh, no way,” Pierre laughed and he stepped closer to the image. “You’ve got your nipples pierced!?”

“If this is live and not just a recording I am going to kill you, Gasly.” You looked at the security guard as he checked over the image. “Can I get out now?”

“Go on,” he waved you through and you swiped your bag from Pierre’s hand as you passed him.

“You ruined my surprise.”

“I’m sure he will still be surprised, when he sees the vid,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry, the fans love seeing you, I thought an impromptu live might be fun.”

“Let’s just get on the plane before someone makes an anonymous call to traffic control about a dodgy Frenchman.”

“He wouldn’t.”

One look at you had him swallowing and his pace picking up. You were mostly joking, but when it came to you, well, Danny could act first without thinking about the consequences. It only took eight hours for you to realise how true that was.

“Where is he?”

A scream of terror pierced the air as your blankets were torn from your body and you scrambled towards the headboard as a silhouette stood beside your bed.

“Danny?” Your voice trembled as your eyes adjusted to the dark hotel room and you recognised his shape that matched the voice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He grabbed your hand that clutched your chest and pinned it at your side. “Where. Is. He?”

His beard burned your cheek as he growled in your ear and you couldn’t think as his scent drove you crazy. “Who?”

“Gasly.”

“Why would Pierre be in here?” you asked, your genuine confusion giving him pause.

“Because you came here with him, to the city of love,” he spat angrily as he flicked the bedside lamp on. “All fucking day, pictures of you two have been tagged on Insta.”

“I came with him to see Kika,” you whispered.

“Your model friend?”

“Yeeeeah,” you drawled, attitude lacing your tone. “They’re dating. Pierre and Kika. In a suite down the hall.”

“I didn’t see her in any pictures with him,” he murmured as he sat back on the bed and dragged a hand down his tired face. “It looked like you and him were…the comments…”

“Things are new for them, they’re not ready to go public yet,” you said as you cupped his jaw and saw the circles beneath his eyes were darker than last week. “You’re the only man I’m interested in. Even when you are overbearing and possessive, and showing up in my room at,” you looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, “3am.”

“There weren’t any flights or I would have been here earlier.”

He let you pull him down beside you and his arm fell into place around your waist where it belonged.

“You’re an idiot,” you said as you kissed his jawline. “But you’re my idiot.”

His chest bounced with a laugh before he turned his head to capture your lips and his hand started to drift up your camisole until you pulled back with a yelp.

“I’m going to kill him,” Danny promised as he pushed you into your back and carefully pulled the top away and saw the two metal bars catch the lamp light. “I can’t believe he got to see these first.”

“He didn’t ‘see’ them, not like this,” you corrected as his fingers inched closer to the temptation. “This is all for you, babe, only you.”

“Ugh, I want to play with them,” he grumbled as he nipped at the supple skin of your breasts, careful not to hurt the healing piercings. “When can I touch them?”

“Not soon enough,” you said, equally frustrated with the wait as your nipples began to harden and tingles spread around the metal as they stiffened to peaks. “You wouldn’t believe how good they feel.”

“Don’t tease me, kitten, I’m too on edge. It was a long drive fuelled with anger and energy drink.” His voice was husky in your ear and it woke your body, your leg curling over his hip to pull him closer. “I don’t know how rough I’ll be.”

“It’s been a week, Danny. I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t make me wait.”

You rolled your hips against him and felt his jeans straining to contain him. You saw the moment he lost control, his pupils blowing out with desire and he gave into the primal need to own you. He needed the reassurance that you belonged to him and you just needed to feel him.

“Please, fuck me. I’m yours, Danny, please…”

“Fuck,” he moaned as he ground his jeans against the thin fabric of your panties. “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it from now on.”

Click here for part three.

Tagging: @mloyer @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @galenna @idkmanthisiskindacool @starwarssavy23

[giuseppe-yuki]

👻 anais' halloween blurbos 👻

summary: it's well known that formula 1 is a cutthroat and and merciless sport. that's why, when murder and other shenanigans are legalized by the fia during race weekends to add a little drama in the paddock, all hell breaks loose. fans are going missing, reporters are being found dead, team employees start writhing in pain for no apparent reason. it seems like everyone would do most anything to win the sparkling championship trophy. luckily for a few select drivers, they have a little advantage with supernatural powers on their side.

or: supernatural!reader x driver mini oneshots (kind of purge!au (?))

warnings: mentions of death, gore, murder, hurting people, and curse words

total w.c.: 5k

picture credits from pinterest :)

I - fallen angel - yt22

II - vampire - op81

III - ghost - zg24

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

V - witch - gr63

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

a/n: a quick little project i meant to put out before halloween but i got a little sidetracked with my other fics... i'm going to pretend that it's still spooky season and totally NOT november :P

ALSO i feel obligated to say i don't condone doing anything in these blurbs irl- hurting people for any reason is NOT okay.

I - fallen angel - yt22

yuki always called you an angel. with your entrancing looks and ability to light up any room that you were in, it was hard not to compare you to an ethereal being. when you walk outside holding yuki's hand, you don't miss the stares of envious women and salicious men when the way the sun seemed to create a halo around your head, and air seemed to shimmer around you. little did he know, you were an angel. well, you used to be, until some petty arguments and pointed fingers resulted in you losing your wings and falling into the mortal world. now, you spent your life dedicated to tempt others to sin.

this worked perfectly, because while yuki focused on dominating on track and getting maximum points, you could use your full power and focus on other aspects- like making sure your boyfriend didn't get fucked over by unfair officials of the sport.

"do good out there, okay?" you say to your boyfriend, giving him a hug and a kiss on his recognizable japanese maple leaf helmet.

he smiles back at you, only visible through his flipped-up visor.

soon enough, it was lights out, and the drivers were sent on their way, throttling around the night track.

you settle in a padded chair that a starstruck engineer pulled up for you while monitoring the multiple tvs that lined the garage. most of them showed the live feeds of the drivers aggressively battling on track, using dirty racing to cut their way to the lead. you took pleasure in seeing yuki gain several positions as he overtook the battling fernando and liam. his engineers burst in rambunctious applause, but it quiets down rather quickly, notifying you that something was amiss.

you turn around to see the engineers crowded around a singular data computer. storming out of your chair, you snatch a nearby engineer's arm, roughly turning him around.

"can you tell me what just happened?" you ask with mock-sweetness, pointing your chin the whispering group of engineers that hid the computer screen from your eyes.

he gulps, knowing that you had the power to hurt him, especially with the fia's rules, and stammers out an answer, even if he knew you wouldn't like it.

"w-w-well," he stutters, "apparently, the stewards gave yuki a penalty for false start and forcing a driver off track. he'll have to- um- serve it when he comes in for a pitstop."

there's no way, you think, angrily. a false start and forcing a driver off track? what a load of bullshit. were they actually even watching the race? someone had to pay for this.

your heels clacked as you strutted through the linoleum floors of the fia building. the walls shook from the sheer forces of the cars on track barreling by, probably halfway through the race. stalking through the stale white hallways and up a flight of stairs, you finally find the room you were looking for- a dark wooden one that proudly held a silver sign that had the words 'stewards' carved into it neatly. you take a deep breath and turn on your full dazzling skills before knocking gently on the door.

an older gentleman, shirt marked with the telltale fia symbol and orange lanyard, opens the door. the perfect victim. he falters a bit when sees you, practically glowing, even in the hallway's dim lighting.

"c-c-can i help you miss?" he asks, face turning a bit red and hand instinctively reaching up to to loosen his collar. you tended to have that affect on people when you wanted to.

"yes," you drawl, purposely batting your long lashes at him. "i have a something to show you."

he shakes his head nervously, eyes glued to something that was definitely not your face. "no, no, no, i have a job to do-"

"oh, come on," you say, pouting, "it's just down the hall!"

you turn and strut down the hall, purposefully showing off your long legs, knowing that there was no doubt he would follow you out of the room. when you turn back around at the end of the hall, the steward, like you predicted, had naively followed you like a dog to a bone.

you don't even make sure that no one was close by before plunging a dagger straight into his heart. he slumps down on the ground, blood flowing out of the fatal wound. you blow him a kiss, before flouncing away back towards yuki's garage. that will teach the stewards a lesson before giving your boyfriend unfair penalties.

II - vampire - op81

when oscar met you, you seemed like a shy little thing with your timid personality and reserved smiles. he swore that you could do nothing wrong. i mean, how could you, when you were scared of such small things like sunburns or funnily enough, garlic bread? the first time he introduced you to the paddock as his girlfriend, he kept a good watch on you. if he didn't, he was so sure that they were going to eat you alive just to gain an advantage on him.

and that's also why, when he heard the news of yet another important paddock member going missing, he was so sure that it was you.

"fuck!" oscar shouts, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. "i leave to do one five minute interview and she disappears!"

ignoring the stares of the reporters and cameramen who turn in surprise to his outburst, he yanks the clip-on mic off of his fireproofs and chucks it at his interviewer's head. if he found his girlfriend dead on the floor, bleeding out, it would be this stupid interviewer's fault.

he stalks off without a word, listing potential places that his girlfriend could possibly be taken in his head.

behind him, lando skips in the shadow of oscar's steps, grinning around the rubber straw of his water bottle that was clenched between his teeth.

"you better hurry, osc!" he trills, "you know what happened to ocon's little girlfriend when she went missing- she was found-"

oscar snaps back, interrupting lando. "yes i know, she was found at the bottom of a goddamn dumpster. you don't have to remind me."

it was a fresh memory in his head. ever since the fia allowed murder, during race weekends, all hell had broke loose. vip guests dropping dead, officials found with broken necks. whoever had murdered poor ocon's girlfriend had did a great deal of damage mentally on esteban, resulting in multiple poor finishes for him during race weekends. oscar never thought it would happen to himself.

frustrated, he roughly shoves lando away from him, pointing in the direction of the red bull garage.

"why don't you go blow up max's tyre like you did in australia or something!" he shouts, clearly annoyed by lando's constant pestering.

oscar doesn't wait for a response from lando before sprinting down to the mclaren motorhome. he checks each individual door to the bathroom, kitchen, and computer rooms when he finally stumbles upon a door with a blood red liquid seeping out the bottom. a muffled thud sounds from within, and he winces automatically.

he closes his eyes, praying that you died a peaceful death, before slowly turning the silver knob of the storage closet.

to his surprise, the the grey, pale, body of otmar szafnauer thumps out into the hallway, head rolling. the side of his neck is a bloody mess, probably the source of the pool of blood now seeping into the carpet and staining the edge of his racing shoes. there, stood primly behind otmar's repulsive body, is you, without a drop of blood on your pretty pink dress. you send oscar a bashful smile, revealing your fangs covered in the cherry-red liquid.

picking up your skirts, you step over the ex-alpine team manager and carefully close the door to the rather stuffy closet you were just in. he'll probably be found by the janitor in the next 24 hours or so.

you peck a quick kiss on oscar's cheek, unknowingly getting a bit of blood on his skin.

"i got rid of otmar for you, baby," you say quietly, fiddling with your fingers. "i hope you don't mind- i heard he gave you a hard time last year."

III - ghost - zg24

you were dead. no, literally. you passed away 5 years ago- beheaded after you fell off of a high building you suppose, going off of how you could pull your head off your neck if you wanted to, and the fact that you always had phantom back pains. it worked out quite beautifully that you were dead already when the fia announced its new rule.

as opposed to the girlfriends of several other select drivers that tended to play a rather active part in gaining the best advantage for their boyfriends on track, you tended to be a little more laid back. however, one thing you could never excuse was when people talked shit about your boyfriend, zhou.

zhou grips your hand tightly in his as you both walked down through the paddock. you loved how his fashionable clothes glittered brightly under the lit lamp posts that lined the walkway. the sun had set, which meant the night race was starting soon. the crowds of fans in the paddock had somehow gotten thicker, and the hired security that zhou had gotten struggled just the tiniest bit holding the horde back.

like you always do when you get nervous, you flicker in-between your solid and ghost form. your boyfriend clocks this right away, especially since that this meant his hand, which was holding firmly holding yours, passed right through you. he stops, looking at you concerningly.

"hey, you alright?" he asks, brows furrowed. "i can-" before he can finish his sentence, an apple flies out of the crowd of fans and bounces off his shoulder, landing at the place where your translucent foot is supposed to be.

the fan that threw it begins to shout obscene remarks directed at both you and zhou, before being dragged away by security.

an anger flares through you. who did she think she was? throwing an apple at your boyfriend's head? that had to count as a murder attempt.

you flicker more rapidly between your states, to which zhou takes your hand.

"hey, it's fine," your boyfriend says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "forget it- my security will deal with them. let's go to the garage, okay?"

you nod slowly, letting your boyfriend lead the way, but oh, you don't forget.

you wait, in your ghost form, in the metal supports of the grandstand. drifting aimlessly, you pop up here and there to scare the crap out of some random fan, when you finally spot your target. the fan from earlier tirelessly climbs the lengthy walk to the grandstands. she's decked out in alpine merch, which makes you scoff. why criticize zhou's team when the very team she was rooting for wasn't doing so well either?

you watch as she settles herself at the very top seat of the grandstand, waving her little alpine flag. what a pity. if only she wasn't so rude. when the cars roar around the corner and she stands up to cheer, it isn't hard for you to reach out your hands and push. a look of recognition registers in her face before she falls backwards off of the high-up stands. she screams, but who hears her over the loud engines as they make their way around the turn? except you, of course. she lands on the ground with a sick splat, likely breaking her back and neck the way you did when you died. you float for a moment over the carnage before floating away to your rightful spot in zhou's garage. serves her right, you suppose.

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

the second pierre found out about your special "ability," he didn't hesitate to take advantage of it. sending you to spy on the other team's cars? check. going to pester the invasive reporters who only cared about spreading yet another rumor? check. monitoring around him to make sure there wasn't any people trying to attack him in the paddock? check.

you didn't mind of course- anything to help your boyfriend one step closer to his end goal. you hated seeing him coming home, again and again, dejected over the progress he's made, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he raced.

today, a night race, gave you an opportunity to give your boyfriend another chance at points. with the sky being pitch black, it made it easier to navigate around without being seen.

in the garage, under the harsh incandescent lights, engineers and alpine employees mill around, checking data and making any final adjustments to the car. before long, pierre gets the green lights to drive up to the starting spots on the track. just prior to pulling on his helmet and climbing into his shitbox of a car, he pulls you close.

"remember what we talked about, okay?" he whispers into your ear, playing it off as a tight hug.

you nod, pressing a kiss to his freshly-shaven jaw.

"of course, baby," you respond earnestly.

when the car rumbles awake and your boyfriend steers the car towards the starting grid postions, you take off running as well. taking a flying leap behind the car, you shift into your bat form and fly up, up, up, into the rapidly darkening sky.

you sit patiently on a tree branch near the track, watching carefully with your sensitive night vision. like you planned, when you spot the telltale black carbon-fiber and vibrant red bull car pull in towards the pitlanes, you dive bomb down back towards the garages. it takes a second, maybe even quicker, to find the engineers poised with the fresh tyres ready for max verstappen's pretty little rb20. you don't hesitate to sink your pointy teeth into their unprotected necks, one by one. the venom in your saliva works quick, and by the time max pulls into his pitstop spot, his pit crew all lay on the ground, incapacitated.

huh, that worked suprisingly well, you think, soaring away from the crime scene. maybe you should try that again in the next prix.

V - witch - gr63

with the fia implementing the barbarous rules at every prix at every calendar, you would think people would be more scared to come. however, it seemed like the audience doubled, if not tripled ever since the rule was announced. something about 'the thrill of it,' lewis had said when you asked him. so, like the crowds of fans lingering in the fanzones, the vips and sponsors visiting the paddock club increased significantly, eager to get a look at the track action and drama between drivers like it was some drama movie.

so, the only thing that made sense to do was to profit off of it, of course. with your magic and brewing pot at hand, you could do most anything to the pompous rich pricks who wanted nothing more than an in to the thrilling secrets of the bloodthirsty sport of formula 1.

"what are you wearing tonight, darling?" the vip asks, flaunting her massive diamond ring in your peripheral vision, obviously fishing for complements. it shined tauntingly in the colored overhead lights at the exclusive paddock club event. jazzy music and the clinking of glasses drown out the pretentious conversations of yet another pair of billionaires talking about their newest private jet acquisition or supercar purchase.

you fake a half-hearted smile at her, smoothing down your own outfit.

"i'm not really sure. i just pulled it out of my closet, i suppose."

failing to get a proper response from you, she smooths down her own glittering dress haughtily and brushes her carefully styled hair behind her ears.

"well, i'm wearing all ysl. the heels themselves cost at least 1.3k!" she exclaims, pointing to the rather painful-looking heels holding up her feet.

just then, your boyfriend appears next to you, lips wide in a smile.

"hello, darling," he says, handing you a drink from the bar. it's a small glass of margarita, coincidentally matching the one in the pompous vip's hand.

"it's not poisoned, i promise," he says to you, making you roll your eyes. the vip, hearing this, laughs.

"so exciting, isn't it? with all the fia's rules, i can't wait to finally see some more drama on track tomorrow," she says giddily, as if george wasn't in grave danger every day, on track and in the paddock because of people like her. dropping her voice down to a scandalous whisper, she continues, "i heard, some fan fell- or was pushed off the grandstands last night!" she giggles, waving her hand. "honestly though, i would probably jump too, if i had to sit in those grimy seats."

you and george both exchange looks of disgust, but she doesn't catch it as a well-dressed gentleman walks up with a grin, giving her a polite hug.

"ah! ricca, how nice to see you again! i haven't seen you since- what, our little outing to bali a month ago? wanted a little bit of racing action now huh?" he asks, swishing his whiskey on the rocks. he turns after finishing his sentence, as if just realizing you and your boyfriend's presence. his gives the both of you a demeaning look, as if you were the ones butting into the conversation instead of him. however, after a beat, his eyes grow wide, and it is obvious when it clicks in his brain where he has seen george.

"oh my!" he proclaims, clutching his chest. "you're that- that racing driver! what's your name again? lando norrin? ferdinand alonso?"

that really said a lot about the reason these socialites were here. who the fuck was ferdinand?

your boyfriend, like the kind-hearted person he was, pastes on a smile and gently corrects the man.

"er- no, sir. i'm george russell- driver for mercedes."

"as i thought," he states with no shame. he then loudly clinks his drink with the young lady, ricca's, glass, and they both down their respective liquids.

you literally could not take it anymore.

"let me take those onto the bar for you," you offer helpfully to the affluent pair. "another whiskey and margarita?"

they have the decency to thank you tipsily before shoving the empty glasses in your hand. you turn back to george, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"i'll be right back," you whisper.

squeezing through the crush of the crowd, you station yourself in an mostly empty table in the corner of the room placed next to a floor-to-ceiling window. the empty glasses in your hand clink when you set it on the table, the last dregs of the drinks swirling at the bottom of the glasses. a quick wave of your hand summons fresh ice cubes in each glass, and a practiced flick of your middle finger and thumb sends a stream of margarita and whiskey out of thin air into its respective glasses. from your pocket, you retrieve a vial of silver liquid that you brewed just about every grand prix. with a hint of nightshade, wings of a spanish fly, and ground up pearls, it made the drinker do whatever you wanted, really. after carefully pouring half into each drink, you throw the empty vial into the air, where it is promptly teleported to your vial cabinet back in george's driver room.

perfect.

before heading back, you take one last look through the glass that presented the night sky and darkened track below. the track still had streaks of black from the burnt rubber from the race only a few hours ago.

it was a wonderful sport really. it was a shame that implemented these barbaric rules that forced your hand. but if that's what you had to do for george, then you would do it.

it didn't take very long for the potion to take effect. you could tell from their slurred speech and slow movements that one could pass off as being drunk.

deciding to waste no time, you pull out your quill pen and paper out of a hidden pocket in your dress. it levitates in the air, visible to only you.

with a nod to george, you both go through the usual spiel- bank account numbers? passwords? credit card numbers?

the vips list off the information as if it is public knowledge, unknowingly allowing your quill to copy the numbers and sensitive information into your notebook.

when you are satisfied, you slip the notebook back into your pocket.

"alright, i think we're done here, georgie," you say to your boyfriend, ignoring the two figures that sway, silent, next to the two of you.

george pouts.

"aww, i was really having fun with that!" he whines.

"well," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "do you want to stay at this god-forsaken place where you might be stabbed by "ferdinand" alonso for no reason or do you want to go home to our comfy flat?"

he shrugs.

"i guess you have a point," he says unhappily.

taking his hand, you lead him out of the still-packed event, but not before slipping another vial of blood-red liquid into their drinks- mind-wiping serum that worked perfectly every single time, except the fact that it also had a tiny side effect of excruciating pain that lasted a few hours.

eh, they deserved it for not even knowing your boyfriend's name.

tomorrow- if they even survived- they would wake up to see their bank accounts drained. you suppose you should send them a thank-you letter next time for single-handedly sponsoring the next merc upgrades, even if they didn't know it.

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

at this point in time, you didn't care anymore. you dared one person- a fan, an official, or opposing team member to try again to break into carlos' driver room. they never seemed to learn their lesson of how loyal and protective you were of your boyfriend. one bite with your teeth are sure to dismember an arm and one swipe of your paw could brake even the most sturdy tire drills, as demonstrated with the last haas mechanic that tried in vain to murder carlos.

it might not seem like it, the way you were curled in carlos' arms on his couch. you practically had your face buried in his red branded hoodie, half-asleep, while he scrolled mindlessly on his phone. it's so soft and comfy, you can't help let out a soft snore as you drift off.

carlos laughs, chest rumbling, patting your head with his free hand. "i thought you were supposed to be on guard, protecting me, mi amor!"

opening your eyes a tiny bit, you pull yourself even closer to carlos, reveling in the warmth of his body.

"i am on alert," you defend, but it doesn't help your case the way your voice comes out muffled from being pressed against his hoodie. "i am always list-"

footsteps.

you hear a pair of scuffled footsteps from the hallway outside of carlos' door, thanks to your exceptional hearing. it slowly drags closer and closer to the only door out of the room, a slow patter of sneaker on pavement that is only audible to you.

without wasting a second, you leap up off the couch and shift into your hellhound form, baring your sharp teeth towards the door, poised, ready to attack whatever poor soul that had decided had your boyfriend was an easy target.

behind you, carlos slides off the couch slowly, recognizing something was wrong.

a knock sounds on the door, making him flinch and eliciting a warning growl from you. however, when both you and carlos don't move an inch toward the entryway, the door slowly slides open.

you muster up all the power you have to leap straight at the attacker, making sure to aim for the neck. but before you can pounce and go for the kill, carlos roughly yanks you back by the scruff of your neck.

"woahwoahwoah," he says to you, pushing your foaming mouth away from the cowering man in the doorway. "it's fine- it's okay!"

you snap at the man once, making sure to purposely show off your canines, but back off a little into the room. if carlos said the man was safe, you wouldn't go against his words.

carlos scratches his head, briefly apologizing to what you realize was his head race engineer, riccardo adami, explaining the precautions he had to take in light of the fia's new rules.

riccardo laughs nervously, but proceeds to let carlos know that he is wanted in the media pen.

carlos holds your hand in his when you stroll down the lighted walkways of the paddock. you flounce your way past the plush couches next to the walkway and the little cafe/bar that served absolutely bomb coffee and cocktails. honestly, you missed the times before the fia's stupid fucking rule where you could drink cocktails with alex's girlfriend or gossip with yuki's girlfriend without fearing that they would poison your drinks or strangle you behind the mclaren hospitality just to help their boyfriends. you guess you still could if you really wanted to, though. maybe you'll do the poisoning and strangling if really needed.

lost in thought, you miss the fake smile the interviewer gives you before dragging your boyfriend off into the media pen.

throwing yourself onto the said couches from before, you convince yourself that he'd probably be fine, but you make sure to keep an eye out and train yourself to listen to any concerning sounds within all the chatter and crowds.

to your surprise, the interview ends quite early, and you have hardly taken a sip of your iced coffee (even though it was, like, 8pm a the track) before carlos storms out of the media pen.

"you okay?" you ask your boyfriend concerningly as you take another swig of the still-full iced coffee in your hand.

carlos huffs angrily, running a hand through his hair, before grasping your free hand to lead you back to his driver's room.

"it's fine, let's just go," he says dismissively, straight-up dragging you behind him.

you pull him to stop with your strength, and glare at him with your arms crossed.

"no! carlos sainz, you tell me what happened in there," you demand.

he rolls his eyes. "well, that stupid interviewer just kept on asking me questions about my thoughts on the missing otmar, dead steward, the fan "falling" from the stands, and all that bullshit that i said didn't want to talk about. i told her i wanted to talk about the race, but then she just responded with a question about my reaction to max's pit crew being injected with some type of venom. i was so done at that point, i just walked out."

you frown. that woman sure sounded like a bitch. honing in your hearing to find the woman through the noise in the media pen, you hear what you assume to be the interviewer mention carlos' name.

"...no, and like i felt like he was so hard to work with," she laughs.

perhaps she was talking to a friend in the media pen?

"...yeah, and he wouldn't answer any of my questions- like what am i going to put in my article? nothing?" she says incredulously. "honestly," she continues, "i hope he dies next on the grid, so it'll make it easier for the next poor reporter who has do an article on him, because then, she won't have to go through the misery of interviewing him!"

a symphony of giggles from a group follow her sentence, a few muttering their agreement.

you turn back to carlos, purposely blocking off the noise of the media pen in your ear, and give him a genuine smile. pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek, you comfort him, "i'm sorry that happened to you, baby. i'm sure it won't happen again- ever."

true to your word, you wait until carlos is proccupied with arguing with charles in the hospitality about one of the controversial on-track battles that took place earlier in the day when you make your move.

the sky is dark, throughly littered with sparkling diamonds, when you pad through the mostly-empty paddock towards the media pen. several fans and officials, seeing your demonic form, scamper out of the way in an effort to avoid your wrath.

you spot your target with your sharp eyesight immediately, walking wobbly in her high heels with a clipboard in one hand. several of her reporter friends huddle next to her, their laughs echoing through the darkened paddock.

time to enact your plan.

stopping a meter behind them, you use your sharp claws to draw a circle on the ground. with three taps of your paw and a breath of fire into the middle, the pavement slides away to reveal a portal into a fiery pit. you're not too sure where it leads, but you don't really plan on finding out either.

silently scampering over to the group, you clamp your jaws down the legs of one of the people that you heard agreeing with the interviewer. you ignore the group's screams before roughly dragging the woman towards the pit. she falls, and it's not long before her yells are covered up in the rumble of the flames.

even when the group scatters in different ways, it doesn't take long with your supernatural speed to catch up to them and drag each person into the pit. you purposely save the main interviewer for last.

when she lies at the edge of the pit, arm bleeding profusely from the wounds from your teeth, you shift back into your human form.

"don't fucking talk shit about my boyfriend ever again," you snarl.

with a shove from your arm, she falls backwards into the deep fire pit with the rest of her "friends."

if carlos was hard to work with, you bet whatever demons down there were so much more harder to work with. oh well, that was her problem.

[umgeorge]

Russell: "19 Out of 20" Drivers Aligned On F1 Racing Guideline Changes

Racing rules were brought into question again as Verstappen and Norris battled in Mexico

George Russell has suggested that "19 out of 20" drivers are aligned on what Formula 1's racing guidelines should be and was pleased to see "unfair" racing manoeuvres penalised at the Mexican Grand Prix Russell, who serves as a director of the Grand Prix Drivers Association, has been vocal on the need for the drivers, stewards and the FIA to discuss the current guidelines on racing in the wake of the US Grand Prix's contentious battle between Max Verstappen and Lando Norris. Speaking in Mexico, where the two championship contenders once again came under scrutiny for their on-track actions-Verstappen penalised twenty seconds for two violations-Russell said that he expected the stewards to continue to take a hard-line approach. He revealed that all but one driver was happy for the stewards to change their approach with penalising certain incidents immediately after Austin, rather than wait until 2025 for new guidelines. "I think the stewards are totally on board with what needs to change," Russell said. "Our view is... I think the biggest discussion is they wanted to wait until '25, so it's something consistent through this year. I would say nineteen out of twenty drivers said, 'Well, if it's incorrect, make the change today.' And I'm glad to see those incidents were punished, and I suspect moving forward in Brazil what we saw today [Sunday] and what we saw last week [in Austin] you won't be able to get away with. You presume [it should be easy to change if everyone agrees], but it sometimes seems more difficult than it has to be when things have to get approved and we've got to go to a vote app. But, as I said, nineteen out of twenty, we're all aligned on where it needs to be." Russell pointed to his own battle with teammate Lewis Hamilton as "hard and fair" racing, in which the younger Briton held off his teammate until the start of the 66th lap. He also had his say on the Verstappen/Norris incident, stating that the Dutchman's turn seven move-in which he carried significant overspeed into the corner and ran Norris off-was something he hadn't seen since Verstappen's move on Hamilton at Brazil in 2021. "It was nice to have the battle, and it's always good when you fight with Lewis because it's hard and fair," Russell said. "At the moment you're seeing a number of manoeuvres that are just... It's getting beyond entertaining or beyond sporting. It's just almost unfair, to a point, now. You can argue the first one was maybe 60-40. The last one, I've not seen anything like that since probably Brazil [2021]."

[enjoythebutterflies11]

George Russell: “Did Verstappen get a penalty for that Turn 1?”

Toto Wolff: “No, he didn’t get a penalty and at the end Lando got a penalty for being forced off and overtaking on the outside. I guess it’s a bit biased decision making but not surprising.”

George Russell: “Yea… strange.”

-

On lap 1, Max pushed Lando off the track, allowing Leclerc and Sainz to get through, dropping Lando to P4. There was no penalty for Max, no investigation, nothing. Later in the race, Max and Lando battle again. Max forced Lando wide, but Lando overtook him anyway. McLaren told Lando, “You had the apex, keep going,” while Max was on the radio complaining about it.

Then, Lando got a 5-second penalty for overtaking outside the track. Lando basically told the team at the end if he should have just given it back and gone for it again instead, but McLaren kept telling him he was in his right so i don’t think Lando should be blamed for not letting Max through when his team told him not to, and honestly, Max should understand that too.

Now here’s where it gets messy. The stewards penalized Lando, saying Max was in front at the apex, which apparently justified the penalty. But the problem is, Max was only ahead because he braked too late, forcing both of them off track. Jenson Button even pointed out that Max being ahead at the apex happened because he out-braked himself. If that’s the standard, does that mean everyone can do the same thing in the next races? As long as they’re "ahead," they can just push others off?

This brings up a bigger issue with the rules. If the only thing that matters is being ahead at the apex, then how you got there doesn’t seem to matter anymore, which is why we see these grey areas all the time. It’s confusing, and it happened more than once this weekend—not just with Lando and Max. Honestly, there needs to be a better system, maybe something like gravel traps to avoid these off track situations in tricky parts of the circuit.

To make things even more confusing, there’s the FIA document that basically said Max forced Lando off. Max, however, defended himself by saying Lando overtook outside the track. But in the cooldown room with Carlos, Max didn’t seem as sure anymore about why Lando got a penalty and told him it was because of track limits instead. Meanwhile, McLaren and Lando stuck to their opinion that Max pushed Lando off and overtook by going off track himself.

Lando handled it really maturely in the post-race interview, saying: “He [Max] defends by going off track and he overtakes by going off track but I’m not gonna complain about it.” Honestly, I think he was way more professional than I would’ve been in his situation.

Yes, Lando overtook outside the track, but both of them left the white lines because of Max’s late braking. Even the stewards reduced Lando’s penalty from 10 to 5 seconds, acknowledging he had nowhere else to go since Max ran off the track too. So, doesn’t that imply Max forced him off? Shouldn’t Max have gotten a penalty as well for pushing Lando off the track?

The fact that only Lando got punished is frustrating. If McLaren hadn’t given him bad information, he would've given the place back, and none of this would’ve happened. You can’t bash Lando for the overtake without also calling out Max for what he did at the start. Both were penalty-worthy situations, but only one driver got penalized.

In the end, this whole situation is just confusing and messy.

[bellezaycafe]

sunsets and self doubt (and words left unspoken) - 1.

Main AO3 tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 2024 Formula 1 Season

Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her howver you want :) )

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident.

comments: The revamped Get Your Shit Together is here! Let me know if you enjoy the new version :)

Sadie had to force a deep breath through her system. The podium sitters were not going to like the news she had. The cooldown room’s walls felt a little like they were closing in on her. 

“Alright, listen up!” She called, feeling a bit like she was talking to a random club team. “The stewards have finalised the penalties and we have two drivers dropping down.”

There was a quiet chorus of curses from Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Oscar Piastri, quiet from his third place chair, frowned.

“Lance Stroll was given two 5-second penalties for track limits. I’m told that he served one in a pit-stop, but the other took him down to 9th.” Sadie tried to give them all a gentle smile.

It might not have come across that way as she braced herself for the next one.

“Max Verstappen, you, and Pierre Gasly, were both given a 10-second penalty for overtaking under yellow flag conditions.” A small cry of outrage came from Charles Leclerc. “This was decided during your last lap and was not conveyed to your engineers in time for them to tell you.”

Max Verstappen’s face pulled into a glare of fury, while Charles Leclerc buried his face in his hands.

“What do you mean, 10-second penalty?”

Sadie hoped he didn’t explode at her during the next piece of news. She looked down at the iPad in her hands and read the standings.

“Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc were all under ten seconds behind you, so you will now be P4.”

“What?! Are you serious?!” The world champion did explode. “Pierre overtook me and I was just taking it back!”

It had been a long weekend for Sadie. She had never been to an F1 race before, let alone volunteered at one; she knew she would be busy but she hadn’t expected to be thrust into learning something the hard way at 7 am. And again at 10. Again at 2. And now again at 4:28 pm.

“I understand that-“ She held up a placating hand, reining in a scathing reply.

“Obviously you don’t if you are giving me a penalty for -“

Sadie cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Who do you think I am, Verstappen? Huh?”

He stopped leaning towards her, something he hadn’t noticed himself doing.

She took advantage of his hesitation. “I am a volunteer. What power do you think I have to change this for you?” she spat.

A scowl appeared on his face as he began to lean in again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Piastri start forward, his papaya suit around his hips. She put a hand out to stop him.

“I know who I am talking to. You are a three time world champion who will survive the depths of P4. You are Max Verstappen the reigning Champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child! Get your shit together!”

He stopped at that. All three, no four, as Lando Norris had appeared in the doorway, of the drivers did. Piastri and Leclerc looked ready to jump forward and restrain him.

Sadie saw the anger leave his eyes and said to everyone, “if you’re all sick of the FIA imposing these penalties just before interviews, maybe you should all say something. Together, as the drivers.”

It was Charles who shrugged. “If something happens in the final laps, it is fair for it to reach us after the race.”

“Yea,” Lando agreed. “But not half an hour after the chequered flag.”

All the drivers conceded that, recalling the penalties of Jeddah two weeks prior. 

“I’m going to read out your standings and you’re going to stand in that spot. Do not“ -Sadie glared at Max- “complain to me, I cannot help you.”

And read them out she did. Leclerc had won, Piastri had come a close second and Norris an even closer third. 

A few hundred metres away, and outside of the cooldown room, Verstappen silently simmered in his P4 position. When she left the room, Fernando Alonso smiled at Sadie from P5. Lewis Hamilton, in P6, held a fist out for a fist bump.

Sadie waited for her next job as the rest of the grid lined up in their order. They went out one by one and did their interviews.

Sadie sighed once they were all gone. At least, she’d thought they were all gone. Carlos Sainz, who had crashed out in lap 4, hadn’t gone out for his interviews yet.

“We all heard that. I don’t know if it was brave or stupid.”

Sadie jumped and shook her head. “I don’t know either and to be honest, I’m too tired to care. He was angry, I understand that, but my patience has been worn very thin.”

Sainz hummed thoughtfully as he left with a soft wave, red Ferrari suit right over his tensed shoulders.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath. Another volunteer told her that she was done for the day, and she gathered her gear. She’d be back in the morning to help pack down the equipment.

Sadie Leo needed some time to contemplate how she’d just yelled at Max fucking Verstappen.

--:--$--:--

“Charles!” The reporter called him over. “This is your first race of the season! How does that feel?”

“I mean,” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I found out in the cooldown room, we all did. I’m still shocked! I don’t know what happened with the penalty or the flags, I’m just happy to have another win!”

“You weren’t sure that you won?”

Charles laughed through his, “no!”

After a small pause he added, “I think a volunteer was given the standing from the stewards. She told us, and told some of us off for complaining.”

“We saw the beginning of an argument between an official and Max, but the feed was cut. What happened there?”

“Ah well, we are all pretty annoyed by the penalties; that safety car was twenty laps ago and we were only just being told. It is frustrating, we are all frustrated."

Oscar Piastri's interview was similar.

"That was very well done out there, Oscar. How does the P2 in your home race feel?"

"I'm still trying to process the fact that I scored a podium in my home race. It's an incredible feeling."

"You were standing here when Charles spoke about the late penalties. Do you agree with his sentiment?"

"Yeah," the Australian answered without hesitation. "Frustration is the right word for what we're all feeling."

With a nod and a thank you, he handed back the microphone and walked away.

Lando stepped up.

"Congratulations," the reporter began. "That is another double podium for McLaren, how does it feel?"

"I'm gonna be honest, undeserved. Don't get me wrong, I think I did well today and I'm proud of Oscar and our team, but I didn't cross that line in third. I don't know the full story about Max's penalty but it just seems undeserved, you know? He should have kept the win. I should be P4, not Max. The FIA needs to sort it out."

"Wow, that's a strong opinion. Will you get in trouble for saying that live?"

Lando shrugged and pursed his lips. "If I do, I do."

His PR manager pulled him away before he could say anything more incriminating.

Then Max stepped up, still fuming.

"Max," the reporter began.

"I know what you're going to ask," he interrupted. "Yes, I'm upset about the penalty. Gasly passed me under yellow flag conditions. I was told that I was allowed to take the position back. It is an unfair penalty."

"Charles told us that a volunteer told all the drivers off for complaining. Surely you have a right to complain?"

Max let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Charles is being Charles! That volunteer told me off. I blamed her for the penalty and she put me back in my place. Volunteers don't dictate penalties and can't change them."

Max shrugged and moved to hand the microphone back to the reporter. She held up a hand to ask one last question.

"Do you think the stewards should revoke the penalty?"

"Yes. They shouldn't have given me a penalty and they shouldn't have handed it out half an hour after the safety car. I think that all of the drivers are sick of being told what place we finished after the race."

"Thank you for your time, Max. It was still an incredible race."

He nodded his thanks and moved on.

It was the same reply over and over.

We are tired of the FIA handing out penalties well after the fact.

We are frustrated.

We are annoyed.

We. We. We.

Sadie never watched any of the interviews. She didn’t watch the footage from the cooldown room, in which her face is hidden but her voice is alarmingly clear. She didn't realise the impact she'd had on the drivers.

As she wiped a hand across her sweaty brow the next day, she wondered if they had said anything. She was about to ask her friend, Aurora, when a shadow fell over her.

She turned to see Max Verstappen.

"Hi?" She frowned.

"I'm sorry" he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification at his slip up.

"What?"

"About yesterday," he muttered, opening those blue eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to intimidate you."

Sadie laughed and put down the tent peg she'd been using to remove other tent pegs. "The key word there is tried."

Max smiled at her laughter. He chuckled a little and stared down at his feet in the dirt.

"But," Sadie continued, "thank you for apologising. I didn't take it to heart. You’re trying to break records. Yesterday, something probably slipped through your fingers and it made you angry. I know, so it's okay."

Max's eyes widened at her nonchalant statement about his motivation.

"What?" she asked impatiently. "I figured out your goal? It wasn't hard, Verstappen."

"No, it's not that."

"What, then?"

"You had already forgiven me?"

"Yes, I forgave you the moment you left the room. You were angry and that was your response to the anger."

"That doesn't make it okay," he pressed. He didn't know why he was pushing her, she’d already forgiven him.

"Which is why you will never do it again." She pointed a dangerous finger at his face.

"Okay," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good. Now I’ve got things to do and you probably have somewhere you have to be.” Sadie pointed at the gazebo and then the bag it belonged to.

“Right, yes. I have a flight in a few hours, so I need to get to the airport. Have a great day, yeah? It was amazing to meet you.” He stepped backwards, with a thumbs up.

“It was an honour to meet you too Max Verstappen. Never forget who you are.”

Max had to take a deep breath as he strode away.

Never forget who you are.

You are Max Verstappen the world champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child.

He made a promise to himself then, and to Sadie, that he would hold himself to a higher standard. He could be better, he should be better, he would be better.

Let me know what you think!

credits to saradika-graphics for the banner :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | AO3 link

Taglist: @snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl @morenofilm @viennakarma @simpingcorner @leilanixx

[12-seconds-to-live]

How do I say goodbye?

pairing - f1drivers/2022 

sumary - pt1. of 3 stories about losing the only female driver of the grid

warnings - mentions of death, explicit language, description of a crash.

word count: 1.170

---------------There’s a moment, for me, as a driver, I consider like my personal way to “settle down and go”. And for the first time in my life I wish I was wrong ---------------

“If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

“It’s a rainy day in the Baku GP, not usually we see rain in this circuit but I think that there’s a first time for everything. It’s one of those day when I look up to the sky and start thinking if there it’s something about to happen”.

Well, I guess I wasn’t wrong.

“Radio check, y/n”

“Everything looks ok and wet, and I’m still hungry”

“Thought you like it wet?”

“Oi, that’s Max’s joke”

“Haha. Gotta wait for the end of the race for you to eat, you’re currently P4, gap with Leclerc to 0.2 seconds”

“Copy” 

It was raining in the most extremely way and nobody have the decence of just put a stupid red flag, what a stupid thing coming from the FIA. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of these conditions, I’m afraid If something happen to somebody. Being the only female driver wasn’t easy, tons of people saying that I’m not as good but, being with Williams and being accepted by them just gives me all that I need to be who I am today.

“I don't quite know How to say How I feel”

“When It’s the red flag coming up?”

“No news from the stewards, we’ll inform you. Keep on strategy B then pit on the next lap, please”

“It’s pouring and I think...”

Silence

“Alice, are you ok? can you hear me?”

“There’s a massive crash on turn 10, we belive It’s the Williams of y/n Brooks. The race has been red flagged”

“we need to know you’re ok, help is on it’s way, stay calm if you can hear me”

Every driver stays in ther garages, waiting in silence, expecting for news, the thing is ... they are not good, they don’t want to say goodbye, not again.

“The marshalls are trying to take her out of the car and I’ve never seen something like this before. I...I can’t...this is so heartbroken for me. I think she’s not moving, the ambulance arrived and they’re taking her. We can see all the drivers reunited. There’s no news about restarting the race but from here we hope that Alice is ok and get back soon”

Maybe.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's bursting into life”

It’s been a week since your accident, the GP was cancelled due petitions from all the teams. All the drivers refuse to race knowing that one of them was almost dying. After two surgerys, the doctors keep yourself in observation, you weren’t awake and without signs, no much can’t be done.

The day before the drivers were allowed to visit you, all of them reunited in petition of Alex, your teammate, he made a promise once and with an uncertain future he decided that it was the right time.

“I talked to her mom yesterday. She couldn’t finish the call” said Sebastian in a sad voice

“I feel empty, this is all FIAs fault, I mean, I can’t barely see anything in the circuit”  said Lando

“Yeah, we all agree with that, at the moment we have to keep our prayers and wait for her to heal. I just... I just call you all because...she...she just” start Alex but remembering the reason made him cry.

“Please don’t tell me she passed and we are the last to know” almost scream Max in horror

“Don’t even say that you morron” said George

Alex dry his tears and start “When we were testing the car she made promise to read out loud something but...but I can’t, I’m afraid to lose her, she’s my teammate, my friend and I’m hopeless. Her accident was horrible, The car was a mess and look at us, we are all a buch of mess boys ‘cause we are losing her” he starts crying ever more that George has to keep beside him “And...and have you seen her family? The have that look when we saw Anthoine parent’s after his accident. I...I can’t read this, sorry”

All the boys stand and hug eachother, thinking of you and how much you change their lifes.

“Let's waste time Chasing cars Around our heads”

Being Alex’s confident

Lando’s favourite parther in twitch

Max’s favourite admirer

Daniel’s shoulder to cry and prankster teammate

Pierre, Charles and Yuki’s mom

Lewis and Zhou’s stylist

Sebastian, Kevin and Alonso’s gossip updater

Bottas favourite rookie

Carlos and Checo to be the one to always talk in spanish

George’s to be the one who always laugh with

Mick for helping him being his best version

Esteban for always watch with him Marvel movies and tv shows

And Lance to be his tennis pal

All of them remember. And one thing is sure. There’s no need of a letter of goodbye to remaind of special you are, how loved you are. They don’t want to say goodbye, doesn’t seem fair but...

There’s not always happy endings.

“Please seat, i’m gonna read it” said Lewis. He wait for all of them and open the envolope that contains your letter, he saw your handwriting, so organized with a blue tint on the paper.

He look all their faces and begins

“Hello, if you are reading this is because something happened to me during a race, well, this is not what we wanted but... well, everything happends for a reason. The thing is that i’m not scared, not at all, i mean, this is almost my last words, not coming from my voice but from the bottom of my heart, every race weekend i think about this, got scared and wanna quit sometimes ‘cause i don’t want to believe that i’m losing you.  I don't know where my life is standing after this and everybody must be scared and sad and confused but I just want to let you know that my absence will never change that you guys are my family” Lewis just recieves a hug from Valteri who decides to continue reading.

“Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before we can meet again and again, after moments or a lifetime, is certain for those who are friends and family. Even though i am going away you will still be a core part of my life. For all the times we hang out, shared laughs, pranks to everybody and races and now I will miss you all the time, hope you do the same. Goodbye. For now. And please, take care between each other. To you, all the drivers, my family, thank you and I love you”.

“Those three words Are said too much They're not enough”

[superm4ks]

gentlequeers a short look into Johnny Herbert lmfao

This herb mf fascinastes me because he’s clearly besotted wid Verstappen on some old school level due to his driving and his general verstappen-ness but he can’t fucking get over that giant fucking chip on his shoulder that max 1) owes him nothing 2) isn’t British 3) prolly not particularly fond of him either.

Like every Max fan who heard about FIA giving max community service for swearing collectively turned to a camera like in fleabag to be like 😐 ‘Herbert was in that room’ it wasn’t even a meme it was just like. Of course he was .

And even in the statements he’s putting out defending that insane fucking decision hes still doing the usual Herbert ‘hot and cold’ shit wid Max like this is FROM his justification on the extreme nature of the punishment:

“That (swearing?) showed Max's rebellious streak. I love that side of him, it is what makes Max, his honest and outspoken character.”

This shit sends me out the stratosphere bro like he’s a FAN he a fan he fan he’s just fucking so British he can’t fucking function wid an shooter like Max that won’t ever put the Union Jack around his shoulders and tap dance for his side of the pond.

Same in Austria. Just an example . U go to Austria (hold my hand. Baby we must) where he was 1 of the stewards responsible for Max’s 10 second penalty in that contact against lando ((while coincidentally haha, not penalizing lando for going over track limits like 49 times before they had contact, then when he finally did he considered that time served post race and Lando never dealt wid those consequences during the race. Just wanted to . Say that 🫶🏽.)) but yeah this is was a penalty that was applied immediately without doubt and where the burden of responsibility regarding the crash was placed 100% on Max. About this decision Herbert said, freely, sober i assume, I swear I’m not making this up,

“That intimidation is something that Lewis [Hamilton], Michael Schumacher and Ayrton Senna have always done. When you come up against Max as he is driving today, there’s a point if you’re Lando that you have to say: ‘I am here. I am at your side. You are trying to squeeze me off the circuit. And I am not going to move.’

“Lando did the right thing. He did not move. He did not have to. Some people said he could have moved. But that is not how you beat Max or how you win the Grand Prix.”

So while the burden of contact falls 100% on Max and he MUST be punished for racing hard, Lando is doing the ‘right thing’ racing him hard to the point of contact and nearly taking them both out, because it means there was a chance of beating Max. Do you see how brazenly fucking biased that is? How one drivers hard racing must be stopped but another’s is to be celebrated and encouraged? I’ve talked Austria and the literal unhinged witch hunt that followed not just from fans but mclarens top bitches and the media in general at length before. And how it got so fucking bad drivers old, retired and very much active had to come out the woodwork like ayo y’all being weird now fr lmfao WTF is going on ((It was beautiful tho.))

I think Johnny .. like Nando once put it, kinda, paraphrasing 😭 became a cop because he cud not win a title. He was a good driver too, he won races, he’s one of the few loud voices in that room that has the credibility to back up his stewarding calls. But that doesn’t mean he’s objective, or even normal, when it comes to Max. In a sport that employs Ted kravitz and is proud of it Herbert might be the most deranged fucking person under contract rn. And as a max fan yk I have to respect the nerve . The commitment . But I’ll never respect the man, as f1 fan, not even as a max fan. And I think part of what’s pushed his decisions towards the extreme this past few years is that he knows that too. He knows , like the aftermath of Austria showed, like the whole circus in Singapore put on BLAST and made a fucking mockery of not just his lilly ass but the whole FIA, that Max doesn’t need or care for his approval. Max has his flowers. Herb just a cop wid a laminated card . And good for him yk. Keep fighting the good fight brother . Maybe you’ll get him one day

[yesterdayiwrote]

so mercedes didn't officially block anything but stewards might have asked unofficially and merc might not have approved so we can say with 100% confidince that ferrari couldn't avoid penalty bc of merc lol what? no one is fan of merc but this rumor isn't even a rumor just fanfiction atp

Carlos has a penalty for 2 very specific reasons

The Race Organisers (F1) and the FIA failed to ensure the track was prepared to an acceptable standard before cars took to it

The FIA rulebook makes no exceptions or special dispensation for Force Majeur in situations like this

That is where the buck stops. The idea that the blame lies with Mercedes is entirely a distraction from who has actually fucked up here, and caused the situation to arise.

Are Mercedes potentially being dicks? Possibly, but they haven't caused Ferrari to get a penalty, they've essentially said 'Sorry to hear about your bad luck, but we're not going to sign off on you getting a lifeline'. Probably a bit unsportsmanlike, but given they're the only team directly in competition with them, probably unsurprising too.

And it shouldn't be up to the teams to sign off on band aid decisions to cover the FIA/F1's ass, especially not on the fly, because where do you draw the line? This is only a problem now because he's on his last engine, if it happened at the start of the season it wouldn't be an issue.

I suspect the FIA will now try and create a clause to make allowances for what happens should this arise again, but to create something watertight that isn't open to abuse is going to be easier said than done I would imagine.

[dizzyduck44]

Do we need to talk about driving standards?

I don’t really want to do this post because I’m about to slate drivers I like, but after today I think we need to discuss one of the issues that doesn’t seem to be being talked about. Driving standards and in particular certain drivers.

(I’m going to try really hard to keep this on track and not have it bleed into the FIA regs rant that is coming).

Today we saw a full race quali and a full race in a day, at times in horrendous and dangerous weather. Some people rose and some I now question WTF are you even doing?

In a race that claims a DNS, a crash on the formation lap, a start procedure infringement that has never happened before, a DSQ and a top 3 that all benefited from a red flag (more on that later) , plus we have no idea if and when the race classification will be finalised as out of 15 finishers, half have to go and see the stewards after the race, maybe we have to accept something went very very wrong here.

Let’s be clear I was the first one to say on Saturday that we need to remember we have 3 rookies and Lance Stroll on the grid and to ask them to run in that weather was asking for trouble and unfair. I really wish I’d be able to style that out as a joke, but after what we have seen today, I can’t.

Let’s get into it. There were 5 red flags in Qualifying as Colapinto, Stroll, Sainz, Albon and then Alonso all high fived the wall at speed. Dooming poor mechanics at the end of triple header, who had already been at the track since 4.30 to massive rebuild jobs.

Was it too dangerous to run? Well Lando in the McLaren (that would later prove to be as much use in rain as a paper boat in a gale force wind) kept improving, so I guess there was something in the track. George and the two RBs found something as well. Car or confidence, your decide.

So on the way to the grid Yuki gets fined TWICE for speeding in the pit lane. On a good day that would be a talking point, today not even mentioned.

We roll round to the race start. Alex’s car can’t be fixed. I struggle to understand why Williams gave up a P7 starting position but that’s another post. Off we go and 3 corners in, Lance is in the gravel 😒 Your mechanics have killed themselves to get you on the starting grid and you can’t even make it to the start? No words.

I’m not gonna lie as soon as I saw Lance stuck I assumed we were going for a second formation lap. I’m old enough to remember abandoned starts were different to aborted starts. When the lights changed Lando and George didn’t hesitate to go for the second lap. I know this is unusual but do we not clarify this with drivers regularly? Well obviously not as some cars moved and others stayed still. What are they talking about in driver meetings?

So we finally get the race under way and people are sort of holding it together. We have a couple of bumps, a few off road adventures and a spin or two but generally all within the realms of a wet race.

Until, Nico Hulkenberg gets stuck. Now Nico is an experienced driver. 200+ races. Now me, sat in a chair at home, knows that if a Marshall touches your car off the circuit you are out of the race. Why then when he saw 4 Marshall’s push him back on did he continue? And then line up in the pit lane at the red flag as if nothing had happened? It begs belief.

Then Colapinto. My heart broke for the Williams mechanics, to see the one car they had already fixed back in pieces. Ultimately in that weather you don’t push your luck on fresh tyres. I assume this is something you learn in karting. However that lack of judgement ultimately decided the race as the red flag gave the three podium sitters a free pitstop under a red flag.

To crown it all off we restarted the race in the most questionable conditions of the day and almost immediately Lando told us they couldn’t really see the car in front (if you are going to get that close to George’s rear end, take him on a date first!). Ollie Bearman showed us (a number of times) drivers were struggling to see the track. The camera couldn’t even see cars. Well it’s ok, cos we about to get a safety car, as yet again Carlos decides to visit the wall. Oh and has to go and see the stewards about driving dangerously!

Now at this point three of the drivers that caused red flags in quali have now caused issues in the race be it flags, safety cars or an aborted start. Three of the same 5. Let that sink in. Had it been 3 different drivers we could forget it, but three in both sessions? WTF were they doing? I’m shocked, annoyed and amused in equal measures. How? Twenty best drivers in the world so we are told.

And Oscar’s name got mentioned way too many times for comfort over this weekend. Spinning, off the track, causing a collision.

Don’t get me wrong we saw some awesome driving today. Max and Esteban in particular stand out, brilliant if lucky. Lando’s over take on George, and Liam defending Checo were what we like to see in the bravery department. Lewis decided to be himself for 10 laps and it was awesome. Finally a special word for Fernando. Clearly in pain but out of respect for the mechanics who had worked so hard to get two cars back on the grid for the race, determined to finish the race.

However it’s difficult to forget that we saw some questionable stuff today. Can it all be blamed on the conditions? Well I always argue that if you want to be an F1 Champion you have to be able to drive in all conditions. I think from now on I will be side eyeing a few drivers in that respect. Which is really hard as I like a lot of the drivers who I have mentioned in this post.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton, p3, is interviewed during the post-race press conference, hungary - july 21, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, coming to you. 200 podiums. What a score, what a trophy cabinet. Now, you've often said that you're not into statistics, but this surely means something?" Lewis: "The number doesn't, no. I mean, I just think about these two and how young these guys are. [laughs] They were in nappies when I started, so… [laughs] No, honestly, it just makes me think about the whole journey and all the great people I've had the chance to work with. I got signed by McLaren when I was thirteen, and so there was always so much love for that team and through the journey that we had where I had my first world championship, and then they went through a really difficult time. To see them back up there is really, really great. I'm really happy to… That's my old family, so really, really grateful to be up here with them. And then ultimately I think it was a tough race today, and I definitely didn't think I would be having 200 podiums, but… What have I done, like 340-something races, so not too bad a score. But I couldn't have done it without all those great people that I've worked with in both these teams." Interviewer: "Lewis, many congratulations. You've got to go to the stewards very shortly, so I'm gonna open this to the floor, and can we start with any questions to Lewis, please. Any questions for Lewis, before he heads to the stewards. Yup."

Journalist: "Sorry. Luke Smith from The Athletic. Lewis, could you talk through the touch with Max? He obviously made that move down the inside, you guys touched. He was on the radio saying about you were moving under braking. Could you talk through your side of it, please?" Lewis: "Yeah. [laughs] No, I think… I mean, from what I can remember, obviously we passed a backmarker, I got to the braking zone, then Max appeared, to overtake the car behind me, so I moved over to defend. I left enough room in the inside, but Max locked up and he was going a different trajectory to me. I was going towards, around the corner, and he came shooting across, so… It felt like a racing incident, and it's easy to make mistakes like that, and so I don't feel there should be any hostility. But, of course, from his side there always will be." Interviewer: "Alright. Any more for Lewis, please?" Norris: [unintelligible] Lewis: [laughs]

Journalist: "Hi. My name is Jannik Sauer. I work for a German news website called Watson. I was wondering, because you have this little fan laying next to you, especially after a hot race like today, there were some headlines in the past few days about the FIA planning to implement some sort of cooling for the cockpit and the drivers. So you are surprised, I see. Do you have any opinion on that?" Lewis: "Well, firstly, I didn't know that, and it's not needed. This is Formula 1. It's always been like this. It's tough in these conditions, and we're highly paid athletes, and you've got to train your ass off to make sure you can withstand the heat, ultimately. And it's tough-it's not easy, especially when you go to places like Qatar [laughs] and Singapore-but I don't think we need an AC unit in the car." Interviewer: "Thank you. Any more for Lewis? Yup, we can do one more."

Journalist: "Florian Niedermair, from Motorsport-magazin.com. About your race pace in general, did you expect before the race to be battling with Max, or was it a surprise for you, especially given the conditions?" Lewis: "No, I think out of pure pace, we weren't. Unfortunately we're still not, in hot conditions particularly… So you saw in Austria and here, we're not able to keep up with these guys. But in stint one I was really surprised to see that I was able to hold on to Max, and I wasn't even having to push too hard to stay around a second behind him, so I thought at that point that maybe I was in for a chance of at least fighting for that place. But then in the second stint it was a bit of a disaster. It didn't feel good [laughs] and the true pace of the car started to show, I think, on those tires. But we obviously got the undercut, and track position is clearly key on this track, and I think that really, ultimately made the difference." Interviewer: "Thank you, Lewis. Any more? Okay. Lewis, we'll let you go. Thank you very much."