The Roughie And The Racer

The roughie and the racer

Part one

Daniel Ricciardo x male!oc

Word count 4k

I don’t know how I feel about this honestly let me know what you think I had to break up with the last 2k words 😭😭😭😭

Caden arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. "You want me to accompany you where?" he inquired. His sister let out a sigh. "To the Austin Grand Prix," she repeated. Caden's expression turned sour. "What happened to your date?" he probed. His sister glanced down at the ground and murmured, "He bailed." "And why do you assume I'm free that weekend? Perhaps I already have plans," Caden retorted sarcastically. His sister gazed at him doubtfully. "So, do you have plans?" she asked, fully aware that her loner of a brother likely had no prior commitments for the weekend.

Caden let out a deep sigh and slowly uncrossed his arms. "No, I don't have any plans that weekend," he said, his voice tinged with defeat. His sister's face lit up with a smile. "See, I knew it! And who knows, maybe you'll end up having a great time," she teased, playfully punching her brother in the arm.

Caden rolled his eyes, but a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. "I doubt it," he muttered, rubbing his arm where his sister had made contact. "But I'll go," he conceded, knowing full well he had little choice in the matter. "But don't expect me to enjoy myself. I don't get why you're so into this F1 junk." His sister beamed with excitement. “You're lucky I love” Caden says to his sister rolling his eyes. His sister grinned widely as she ruffled Caden's hair, playfully teasing him. "Awww, Caden, you're such a softie deep down," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look at how easily you're being corrupted by my influence. Soon you'll be begging me to take you to every race." Caden grumbled as he attempted to fix his disheveled hair. "I'm only doing this because it's important to you," he muttered, his voice tinged with feigned annoyance. Deep down, he couldn't deny the fondness he had for his sister.

"And I won't beg for anything!" he added defiantly. His sister couldn't help but chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing her brother. "Oh, I know you won't beg," she replied with a smirk. "You're too stubborn for that. But mark my words, by the end of the weekend, you'll be a racing enthusiast just like me." Caden scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "In your dreams," he muttered, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'll tolerate the races, but I'll never become a fan like you. It's just not my thing, and it never will be."

Their banter continued as they joked and teased one another playfully. Despite Caden's reluctance, he secretly couldn't help feeling a hint of anticipation for the upcoming weekend and the chance to spend some quality time with his sister. "Just promise me one thing," Caden said, interrupting their playful banter momentarily. His expression turned serious, and he looked at his sister with sincerity. "Promise me you'll make sure we get the best view of the race. If I'm going to suffer through this, I might as well have a comfortable seat."

His sister raised an eyebrow, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, Caden," she said with a sly smirk. "I already have it all figured out. We'll be sitting in the front row, practically on top of the action. You might even forget you hate F1 by the end of it." Caden rolled his eyes again, his irritation mingled with a hint of reluctant curiosity. He didn't want to admit it, but his sister's enthusiasm was beginning to rub off on him...just a little.

"Just don't expect me to root for any of those drivers or anything," he grumbled, trying to maintain his grumpy facade. His sister laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of asking you to root for anyone," she replied playfully. "You can just sit there and judge them in your head. That's what you do best, right?"

Caden huffed, pretending to be annoyed but unable to suppress the corners of his lips from twitching into a slight smile. "You know me too well," he conceded, a hint of affection in his voice. "Besides, you might discover you find one of those drivers surprisingly attractive," his sister teased, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

Caden's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, please, don't say things like that! I wouldn't be caught dead crushing on some rich, arrogant racer."

His sister laughed wholeheartedly, thoroughly enjoying Caden's sarcastic reactions. "Relax, Caden, I'm just messing with you," she giggled. "But you never know, stranger things have happened. And if you do end up crushing on a racer, you'll owe me a year's supply of ice cream."

Caden playfully shoved her, trying to feign annoyance, but it was evident he was enjoying their banter. "You're insufferable," he muttered, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But fine, if I end up hopelessly swooning over a racer, I'll treat you to a year's worth of ice cream. However, I highly doubt that's ever going to happen." His sister grinned widely, clearly pleased with his response. "Deal. But beware, Caden, life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it," she teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement. With the deal struck and the banter still flowing, they continued their playful banter, their laughter echoing through the room.

As the conversation continued, Caden found himself slowly becoming more at ease. Despite his initial reluctance, the idea of attending the race with his sister no longer seemed entirely unbearable. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, this could turn out to be a memorable weekend. But for now, he would continue grumbling and eye-rolling, maintaining his grumpy exterior as much as possible. After all, he needed to uphold his reputation as a tough, no-nonsense guy.

The weekend finally arrived, and Caden found himself standing outside the entrance to Circuit of The Americas, surrounded by a boisterous crowd of racing fans. His sister stood beside him, bubbling with excitement, while Caden tried to maintain his indifferent facade.

As they made their way through the bustling crowd, Caden couldn't help feeling out of his element. The noise, the energy, the excitement - it was all so foreign to him.

But there was something oddly captivating about the atmosphere. The colorful team jerseys, the enthusiastic chants, the intoxicating scent of engine oil and gasoline. It was a different world completely, a world that his sister seemed completely enthralled by.

“Here,” Cadens sister said, handing him something. “What’s this? " he asked looking at the lanyard. “It’s a paddock pass” his sister says. Caden raised an eyebrow, his tone filled with skepticism. "A paddock pass? Seriously? I thought we were just going to watch the race like normal people."

His sister shot him a teasing smile. "Oh, come on, Caden. Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, how could I possibly ask you to accompany me to the race and not give you the full experience?"

Caden rolled his eyes, but a hint of curiosity piqued his interest. He had to admit, being in the paddock and getting up close with the race cars did sound somewhat intriguing, even though he tried hard to hide it.

“So what team hospitality will we be in?” Caden asked his sister. His sister's eyes lit up with excitement as she replied, "We'll be in the Red Bull hospitality. It's one of the best teams in the league right now, and their hospitality is legendary. We might even get a chance to meet some of the drivers!"

Caden couldn't help rolling his eyes once again. "Meet the drivers? Yeah, because that's what I want, to spend my day chatting with a bunch of pompous, adrenaline junkie billionaires." His sister laughed and playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Lighten up, Caden! You might find that these drivers are not as pompous as you think. They're human beings like us, dedicated to their passion and craft."

“Oh yeah like you and your bull riding? his sister says. Caden's expression hardened at the mention of his own profession. "Bull riding is a true test of skill and courage. Those bulls are unpredictable. It's a lot more than just sitting in a car and pressing pedals." His sister raised her hands in surrender, realizing she had inadvertently struck a nerve. "Alright, alright, I get it. Your bull riding is hardcore, no question. But you have to admit, those race car drivers have some serious skills too. It's not just about the speed, it's about precision, strategy, and the ability to handle these machines at insane speeds." Caden grumbled, still not entirely convinced. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Fine, maybe those drivers do have some talent or whatever. But I'll still stick to my horses and bulls, thank you very much."

As Caden stood among the crowd, a voice interrupted his thoughts. "You ride bulls?" The question came from behind him. Turning around, Caden was met by the sight of a man slightly shorter than himself. The man stood confidently, wearing a crisp Ferrari polo. However, it wasn't the polo that grabbed Caden's attention. What stood out was the curious fashion choice of the man - his jeans were tucked into his boots, making for an interesting appearance.

Caden couldn't help but stare in disbelief at the man's attire. He had certainly seen some unique fashion choices in his life, but jeans stuffed into boots inside boots – a cowboy style – was definitely not something he had come across before. It was a stark contrast to the formal dress code he had grown up with thanks to his father's strict ways.

"Yeah, I do ride bulls now and then," Caden replied, trying to compose himself and look away from the man's unusual boot situation.Caden’s sister gasped, tapping him on the shoulder trying to get his attention but she had no luck because he was still staring down at the man’s boots.

As Caden looked down at the man's boots, he could feel his sister nudge him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention. But his focus remained on the unusual boot situation before him. Feeling a sense of obligation, Caden kneeled down and swiftly fixed the man's jeans, ensuring they were properly positioned outside the boots.

"Jeans go on the outside of your boots," he advised, trying to keep his tone neutral but unable to resist a subtle hint of amusement in his voice.

The man looked utterly bewildered, clearly stunned by Caden's unexpected act. He glanced down at his boots and back up at Caden, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. "You... you fixed my boots?" he stammered, still processing the situation. Caden stood up, casually adjusting his own attire. "Yeah, sorry, man, but jeans stuffed into boots is just wrong," he replied with a shrug. "You gotta do it right if you're going to be in Texas and I’m surprised that everybody just let you walk around like that”

The man looked down at his boots once again, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I got carried away with the look," he admitted, unable to hide a sheepish smile. "Thanks for the correction, man." “I’m Charles” the man says introducing himself. Caden glanced up and met Charles eye-to-eye, offering a firm handshake. "Caden," he responded simply, his voice carrying a subtle hint of curiosity. There was something oddly magnetic about Charles' presence that intrigued him. "Are you a racing fan or just really into boot fashion?"

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "A bit of both, I suppose," he replied, his tone laced with a touch of playfulness. "Racing is my profession, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to rock this fashion statement."

Caden raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "Racing? as in F1?" he asked, his skepticism evident in his tone as he gestured towards the Ferrari emblem on Charles' polo. Charles nodded enthusiastically, a mixture of orgullo and enthusiasm evident in his expression. "Yeah, Formula 1, to be precise. I drive for Ferrari."

Caden's eyes widened slightly as he took in this newfound information. He had a feeling he was speaking with someone of significance within the racing world, but he hadn't anticipated just how significant. "Well, I'll be damned," Caden muttered, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I never thought I'd be fixing some posh Formula 1 driver's fashion faux pas."

Charles laughed heartily, clearly amused by Caden's remark. "Posh, huh? I guess you could say that," he replied with a light-hearted shrug. "But hey, fashion faux pas can happen to anyone, even F1 drivers." Caden rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced by Charles' self-deprecating remark. "Yeah, well, it's a good thing someone was around to fix it," he retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Imagine if you had been filmed walking around like that."

Charles nodded, his expression turning sheepish once again. "Yeah, I wouldn't have heard the end of it," he said with a chuckle. "Thanks for saving me there, Caden. I owe you one."

Caden waved a dismissive hand, trying to brush off the gratitude. "No biggie. Just doing my Texan duty to spread proper boot style." Charles' eyes widened with interest as he processed Caden's words. "You're a Texan, huh? That explains the boots. And the bulls, I assume?" he asked, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Caden chuckled, a subtle hint of pride in his voice. "Guilty as charged. Born and raised in Texas, where cowboys and bulls coexist. Though the bulls might have the upper hand sometimes." Charles let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Caden's remark. "Sounds like an interesting life you lead, Caden. Bulls and cowboys, huh? Maybe you could teach me a thing or two about handling those bulls. And I can teach you a thing or two about F1."

Caden raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "Oh, so you're offering lessons now, Mr. Fancy Formula 1 Driver? I'll consider it, but only if you promise not to bring back the boot fashion blunders."

Charles grinned, clearly enjoying the banter between them. "Deal. No more boot blunders from me, I promise," he agreed, holding out his hand for a mock handshake that Caden reluctantly returned. "And who knows? Maybe you'll end up enjoying the racing world more than you think.”

Caden playfully rolled his eyes, masking his intrigue. "Right, sure. I'm sure the racing world and I will become fast friends. Just as soon as you convince me it's not just a bunch of millionaires driving in circles." Charles couldn't help but chuckle at Caden's remark. "No worries, I won't force you into a racing suit. But I do hope you'll enjoy your day and the race," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

Suddenly, someone called out to Charles from a distance, drawing his attention away. "I have to go, but it was great meeting you, Caden. Maybe we'll see each other later." Caden nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Likewise, Charles. Take care of those boots, and yourself. And try not to crash in the race, alright?" "I'll do my best,” Charles replied with a wink, offering a playful salute as he turned to leave. As he walked away, Caden found himself stealing a quick glance at the shortened jeans, still feeling the lingering impact of the brief encounter.

As Caden watched Charles walk away, his sister appeared at his side, a knowing smile on her face. "Making friends already, huh?" she teased playfully, nudging him with her elbow. Caden rolled his eyes, trying to feign nonchalance, but a faint blush creeped over his cheeks. "Don't be ridiculous. I just fixed the guy's boots. It's not like we're best friends now." His sister laughed, seeing right through his attempt to play it cool. "Right, right. Fixing someone's boots is the classic Texan move for making friends," she jested, a mischievous twinkle in her eye."Oh, shut it,” Caden grumbled, feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. "I just didn't want him walking around like a fashion disaster, alright? That's all there was to it." His sister just grinned wider, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Whatever you say, big brother.“

Caden scowled at her, knowing he had inadvertently given her ammunition to tease him about for the rest of the weekend. "Just great. Now I'll never hear the end of this" he muttered under his breath. His sister laughed, clearly amused by her brother's annoyance. "Oh, don't worry, Caden. I'll make sure to keep reminding you of this little boot-fixing episode. It's not every day you get to impress a Formula 1 driver with your Texas manners." Caden let out a long-suffering sigh, resigning himself to the fact that his sister would always be there to remind him of his embarrassing moments. "I should have known better than to step foot in this racing-crazed world. It's like a magnet for embarrassing situations" he grumbled.

As Caden and his sister made their way towards the stands, the atmosphere grew more intense. Cheerleaders performed acrobatic routines, bands played upbeat music, and fans wore colorful shirts and hats representing their favorite teams. The energy was palpable, and Caden couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Remind me again why I agreed to come to this madness," he groaned to his sister as the two of them walked to the red bull hospitality and garage.

"Because you secretly love it," his sister teased with a knowing grin. "You’re just too stubborn to admit it."Caden huffed in playful annoyance but couldn't keep the corner of his lips from curving into a small smile. He secretly enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere, despite his initial reluctance. As they entered the Red Bull Hospitality, Caden's eyes darted around, taking in the luxurious interior adorned with the team's signature bulls and crimson red colors. The atmosphere was a whirlwind of chatter and laughter as fans mingled and enjoyed food from various catering tables.

Caden's sister seemed to be in her element, effortlessly striking up conversations with fellow fans and basking in the buzz of excitement. Caden, on the other hand, found himself feeling a bit out of place. He stuck to the sidelines and observed the scene unfolding before him in silence. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, a sudden change in the atmosphere caught Caden's attention. The fans around them erupted into cheers and applause, their gazes fixed on something or someone behind him. Curiosity piqued, Caden turned around to see what had caused the commotion. Standing amidst the whirlwind of commotion was Daniel Ricciardo, the charming Australian driver with a contagious smile. His presence commanded the attention of everyone around him, and the crowd seemed to gravitate towards him like moths to a flame.

Caden's heart skipped a beat as he laid eyes on Daniel's captivating presence. There was something magnetic about him, an undeniable charisma that drew people in, and Caden found himself strangely drawn to it. His sister noticed the way Caden's gaze lingered on Daniel, and a sly smile curved her lips. "Seems like you've found someone interesting," she teased, nudging him gently with her elbow. Caden snapped out of his momentary trance and quickly composed himself, trying to mask his interest in Daniel. "What? No, I was just observing," he replied, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanor but failing miserably.

His sister arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reaction. "Observing, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?" She teased softly, her eyes twinkling with playfulness. Caden grumbled under his breath and turned away, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I was just admiring the whole circus, that's all," he muttered, but his sister saw right through his denial.

She laughed softly, clearly amused by her brother's subtle interest. "Whatever you say, Caden. Just don't deny that you're intrigued by the charm of that Aussie driver and besides he’s your type.” His sister rolled her eyes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Oh, come on, Caden. Don't act like you can hide it. All those guys you've had little flings with over the years, tall, charming, and charismatic. Seems like Daniel Ricciardo ticks all those boxes for you." Caden shot her a glare, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at her astute observation. "Shut it," he muttered between gritted teeth. "I'm not interested in him. And even if I were, there's a zero percent chance he'd look my way."

His sister shrugged nonchalantly, clearly enjoying teasing her older brother. "Who knows? People surprise you sometimes. And who says you're not his type?" Her mischievous grin seemed to suggest that she had a few ideas up her sleeve. Caden gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar frustration and annoyance that always surfaced whenever his sister played matchmaker in his life. "Leave it, alright? We're here to enjoy the race, not discuss my non-existent love life," he huffed, hoping to put an end to the conversation. His sister chuckled, sensing her brother's discomfort. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it for now. But just remember, life's too short to hold back from what you want," she said, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder before sauntering off to explore the hospitality area.

As his sister vanished into the crowd, Caden let out a frustrated sigh, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. He cast a quick glance around, his eyes landing on Daniel once again, who was engrossed in conversation with a group of fans a few feet away. Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, Caden couldn't resist stealing discreet glances at Daniel. There was an inexplicable allure about him that drew Caden in, a magnetic charm that transcended the realm of racing. He couldn't shake off the subtle flutter in his chest every time he laid eyes on him. It was a confusing mix of intrigue and unease, and Caden couldn't help but question the strange pull he felt towards the captivating Australian driver. As he continued to observe Daniel, Caden couldn’t help but notice the effortless way he interacted with fans. Daniel's smile was genuine, and he engaged with each person with warmth and enthusiasm. Caden's heart thumped against his chest as he watched, and the thought that he could ever even approach such a vibrant and charming individual seemed far-fetched. He silently chastised himself for allowing his imagination to run wild.

Just when Caden was lost in his thoughts, Daniel glanced in his direction, their eyes locking for a brief moment before Caden swiftly averted his gaze. His heart raced, and a wave of nerves washed over him, silently cursing his awkward demeanor. It was in that fleeting glance that Caden felt a connection, a strange recognition that sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this encounter than just a casual glance. The moment was brief, but it left an indelible mark on Caden's mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if Daniel had felt it too. The thought tormented him, making him question everything he thought he knew about his own feelings and desires. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within him, Caden knew that this chance encounter had stirred something deep within him, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

The rest of the time at the hospitality area went by in a blur for Caden as they mingled with fans and enjoyed the pre-race festivities. He tried to keep his mind occupied, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the brief connection he had felt with Daniel. As the race grew closer and the crowd became more hyped, Caden's anticipation to witness Daniel in action slowly replaced his initial apprehension.

As they made their way to their seats, Caden found himself torn between excitement and anxiety. Every time Daniel's name was announced over the loudspeaker, Caden's heart raced, and a mixture of nerves and anticipation swirled within his stomach. He had never felt such a strong connection to someone, especially someone he barely knew, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to this inexplicable pull he felt towards the captivating driver.

The race started, and Caden was immediately immersed in the frenzy of engines revving and tires screeching against the track. The energy of the crowd was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the excitement of the competition. His sister leaned over, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know, Daniel Ricciardo is leading the race so far. He's quite the skilled driver," she remarked, subtly trying to gauge Caden's reaction. Caden's heart skipped a beat as he heard the news, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirling within him. He tried to play it off coolly, shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, he's not bad," he replied, trying to keep his emotions in check. "But it's a long race, anything can happen," he added, hoping his sister wouldn't pick up on the newfound interest in his voice.

As the race continued, Caden found himself glued to every move Daniel made, his heart racing with every pass and overtake. He couldn't help but admire the confidence and skill with which Daniel navigated the track, seemingly unfazed by the intense competition. Caden's sister noticed his unwavering attention and let out a soft chuckle.

"Looks like you have a favorite driver now," she teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "He's quite captivating, isn't he?" Caden playfully shoved her shoulder, trying to lighten the situation. "Shut it, you. I just appreciate good racing," he protested, though he couldn't deny the undeniable charm that Daniel exuded both on and off the track. The race continued to unfold, and Caden watched with a mixture of anticipation and dread as the leading positions changed hands numerous times. The race was on a knife's edge, with Daniel still firmly in contention. As the laps neared their end, Caden felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He couldn't help but feel invested in Daniel's performance, his heart racing with each turn and overtake.

As the final lap commenced, Caden's heart pounded against his ribcage, the tension palpable in the air. His eyes were fixated on Daniel's car, watching as it navigated through the curves and bends of the track. The race was nearing its climax, and the suspense was unbearable. Caden found himself involuntarily clenching his fists, silently cheering Daniel on.

The final minutes were a flurry of excitement and anticipation, and Caden's heart skipped a beat as Daniel took the checkered flag, securing first place. The crowd erupted into a roaring applause, and Caden found himself smiling despite his earlier reservations. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for the captivating driver who had managed to capture his attention like no one else had before. As Daniel's car slowed to a stop and he climbed out, waving to the cheering crowd, Caden's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help but stare, captivated by the magnetic aura that surrounded Daniel. There was something about him that transcended the realm of racing he was charismatic, talented, and undeniably charming.Caden felt that strange pull towards him, a connection that he couldn't explain but couldn't ignore.

His sister, who had observed his reactions throughout the race, gently nudged him once again. "Looks like you're hopelessly smitten with the race winner," she teased, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Caden snapped out of his temporary stupor, quickly regaining his composure. "Smitten? Hardly. I just appreciate good driving," he retorted, dismissing her statement with a casual wave of his hand. However, the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his attempts to downplay his true feelings. His sister smirked, clearly not buying his denial. "Sure, just ‘appreciating' his driving skills, right?" she teased, her words dripping with playful sarcasm. Caden rolled his eyes, secretly flustered by her teasing yet unable to deny the magnetic pull he felt towards the charismatic race winner.

As the crowd started to thin out and the excitement began to subside, Caden found himself feeling a mix of emotions. There was a strange combination of anticipation and dread building within him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Despite his best efforts to push the thought away, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever cross paths with Daniel again. He was pulled out of his reverie by his sister's soft voice. "You know, you've been watching him like a hawk. I never thought you'd be this interested in a race," she commented, a teasing lilt in her words. Caden shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "I just appreciate good driving, that's all. He's a talented driver." But he couldn't hide the fact that his heart was beating erratically in his chest at the mere mention of Daniel.

As they made their way out of the hospitality and towards the parking lot, Caden's mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the charming race winner. He tried to dismiss the persistent flutter in his heart as mere adrenaline, but deep down, he knew there was more to it. Little did he know that the night had a surprise in store for him

ɢᴜɪᴛᴀʀ ʟᴇꜱꜱᴏɴꜱ

pairing(s): Sebastian Vettel x male! reader

warning(s): fluff! fluff! fluff! (no surprise angst... i promise)

(a/n): seb and reader are way youngerrrr in this (around late teens) you can think of this as college au! just wanted to write a little something

!not proofread!

"Teach me that," Sebastian blurts out. He was sitting on a bean bag in the corner of your room, reading a book. "Hm?" you look up, "What? Guitar?"

He nods, raising his head to look at you. You quirk a brow, a little surprised by his sudden interest. Your heart warms at his simple request. Your boyfriend probably didn't even realise how his interest in your hobby affected you.

You smile at him. "Come here," you gesture him over. You were sitting on your bed, lazily playing some random tune on your guitar. 

You prop up the pillows properly, leaning against them as Sebastian comes near the bed. He just stood there awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. You laugh at him; with that sharp tongue of his, you forget that he can be cute as well (sometimes).

You pat the space between your legs, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. He just gives you a 'are you serious' look in return. "Come on. Whatcha waiting for?" you say, a cheeky smile still present on your face.

He rolls his eyes, slowly sitting down, making sure you don't pull some stupid shit on him. He leans on you, his back to your chest, making himself comfortable. You curl an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to you. 

He gives you an accusing look. "What?" you say, feigning a confused look. "How else am I supposed to teach you?" that smile said otherwise.

You place the guitar on his thigh, guiding his hand towards its neck. You put his fingers in position, before slowly plucking the strings. You pass on the pick to him, letting him do the same. 

A smile makes its way onto his face, his eyes glued to the guitar. You rest your head on his shoulder, your own eyes glued to him. You teach him a different note, helping him where he needed help.

You lean down, placing a small peck on his neck. It seems to have taken him by surprise because he accidentally plucked the wrong string. The tips of his ears burn red when he feels you smiling against his skin. 

He slaps your leg, a (fake) scowl on his face. "Don't do that," he says, and the way he did reminded you of an angry cat. "Sorry," you chuckle, placing a kiss on the side of his head. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, you did not look sorry.

The rest of your evening was spent teaching Seb how to play the guitar (and shamelessly flirting with him).

---

++ Bonus ++

"I shouldn't have let you play for that long. It was your first day too," you murmur against his shoulder. Lifting up your head, you move to rest it on your pillow, the lower half of your body thrown lazily across his.

You reach for his hand. He lets you. Bringing it between your bodies, you rub his knuckles softly with your thumb. "Sorry," you say as you bring his hand to your mouth, placing small kisses on his fingers. 

The both of you had lost track of time; you don't even remember how long the both of you were at it. You didn't see them before, but when Seb had cupped your face to kiss you, you could feel them all over your cheeks. The guitar strings had left blisters, and you felt really bad because you're the one who let him play for that long.

"Mmm..." Seb lets out a sleepy hum. He opens his eyes ever so slightly, moving his body, he lays on your bicep, using it as a pillow. "Love you." Seb didn't care about mundane things like blisters, they'll go away eventually, that moment you shared wouldn't.

You plant a kiss on the top of his head, closing your eyes and snuggling into him, "Love you more."

ʜᴏᴍᴇ

pairing(s): prince! Arthur Leclerc x male! knight! reader

warning(s): hurt/comfort, mentions of injury, mentions of death, royal au! forbidden romance(?)

(a/n): kinda inspired by hozier :) changed the lyrics a bit. a short drabble for my fav leclerc

!not proofread!

"No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to you."

"Your Highness," you manage out through gritted teeth, "you shouldn't get your hands dirty."

He says nothing, silently applying the green paste he made using different medicinal herbs, across your middle. "My prince," you try again. He doesn’t respond, his eyes trained on your body, careful not to hurt you.

"Arthur," your voice is soft, almost like a whisper. He looks up, his ocean eyes clashing with yours.

"I told you not to go," he whispers, a hint of betrayal. He goes back to focusing on your wounds. You smile ever so slightly. "Your Highness-" his eyes snap to you, daring you. "Arthur," you say softly, "I do not have a choice in such matters. I have to go when I am called."

He chews the inside of his cheeks. There has to be some way he could prevent you from going to battles. He was a prince after all, wasn't he? "This is what I was raised for," your voice cuts off his thoughts. 

"No," he says sharply, preventing any further discussion. He gets up from where he was kneeling, using a gauze to wrap around your wounds. He moves to stand in between your legs, still careful to not hurt you. 

He's close. Right within your reach. You could feel his breath across your shoulder. His body heat, warming up your naked torso. He moves the gauze over your back, taking a step back to tie it up.

He ties the final knot, his fingers grazing over your body. They're shaking, you notice. "Arthur," your hand reaches to cup his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours. "I'm here," you utter softly, "I'm fine."

"You're fine," he repeats after you, barely audible. His lower lip wobbles. You pull him in, holding him tight. 

"You're fine. You're fine. You're fine..."

"My prince," you press a lingering kiss to his forehead, "breathe. Breathe with me."

He clings onto you, his arms wrapped around your broad shoulders, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He breathes, following you. In and Out. In and Out. Slowly.

He pulls away, his eyes moist. "You should lie down," he gently pushes you back on the bed. "Rest," he says. He tucks you in, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

"Stay," you catch his wrist, "Please."

He takes a seat on the bed beside you, leaning against the bed frame. You move, trying not to let out a groan. You rest your head in his lap. His hands find their way to your hair, gently playing with the strands.

"What's wrong?" you question, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Of course, you can read him like an open book. He doesn't respond, his fingers mindlessly playing with your hair.

"My love," you hold his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, "Talk to me."

"One day," he whispers, "I fear, that one day, you won't return home to me."

You say nothing. How could you? He wasn't wrong. It was a possibility. Soldiers die on the battlefield every day. And one day, sooner or later, it would be your turn. 

You bring his hand to your mouth, leaving small kisses every where you could reach. "No grave can hold my body down," you murmur against his knuckles, "I'll crawl home to you."

A look into your eyes, and he knew it was the truth. You'll always come back to him.

yes, and? | f1 d!lfs

a/n: Ariana popped tf off with that house music, but ngl I have mixed feelings abt her allegations. don’t be a homewrecker bitches 😘

aussiegrit

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aussiegrit Ride a Porsche, save a horse…😆 yourinsta

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username ICONIC QUEEN SHITT

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yourinsta

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yourinsta ride or die (literally) 😙

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yourinsta will do 🤭

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landonorris soonn

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sebastianvettel glad you had fun schatz

yourinsta anytimee 🫶

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username what exactly are you riding 🤭

username she slayed for that

username DONT TAKE TREACHEROUS ROADS

username DONT MAKE UNNECESSARILY JOURNIES

jensonbutton

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jensonbutton off seasonal things 🤣.

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yourinsta slow your horses on drinking mr button

jensonbutton will do love 😉

yourinsta I’ll keep an eye on that.

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username was this the Santa hat he got from Fernando 😭😭

username it’s also likely that one of them gifted the whiskey as well

username nobody can stop yn and her dilfs on this summer break

username HELL YEAH

username not complaining for the lack of content from the current grid (except Ms gurl herself)

yourinsta

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yourinsta I have no more storage 😔

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sebastianvettel sorry schatz ❤️

yourinsta I maybee forgive you

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yourinsta I SWEAR IT’S THEMM

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jensonbutton deleting is not an option love

aussiegrit buying a new one is

username OH???

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username Respect the original rizz gurll

username Sebastian was and still is the original rizz, ask yn 😘

username kimi what are you doing hereeee

f1gossips

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f1gossips Ricciardo, Vettel, Button, Alonso, and Ln spotted in a holiday in Ibiza, Spain. More attendants to be confirmed.

- admin

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username honestly it’s kinda weird that she keeps on hanging out with the older grid while she is literally a Mercedes driver?

username and what’s wrong with hanging out with people outside the current grid

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username I swear they need to show tf up

yourinsta

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yourinsta told you my selfies ate 😘

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aussiegrit beautiful sunshine ❤️

yourinsta wish you were heree

aussiegrit I’ll definitely see you soon honey

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carlossainz55 did you pierced your tongue?

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sebastianvettel

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sebastianvettel trip dump or whatever the kids say?

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yourinsta correcto

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username get away from my mann 😘😘

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f1gossips

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f1gossips Mark Webber and David Coulhart spotted at the Porsche convention, Melbourne, Australia. Lando Norris confirmed in joining the Ibiza trip last week as seen with a fan at a restaurant

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username i know exactly what you are doing by putting mark in this

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username SAMEE TWINSS

yourinsta

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yourinsta yes, and?

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username OMF MISS QUEENNN

username QUEEN SHIT BITCH

username ITS CONFIRMEDD

username so can I call her ariana now? 💀💀

yall know the drill, interact if you liked it😘😘 let me know who’s your favorite f1 dilf

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i’m not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw’s/cw’s & i’ll be happy to share those!

a/n: it’s been a hot, hot minute since i’ve had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children’s hospital), but i’ve been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i’d at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i’m nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

Keep reading

Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

______________________________________________________________

When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?)  Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Y/n stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Maybe you could have your people reschedule some of it. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track.

But this wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of every room because he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her by. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always beat us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for her, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The bubble one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that" Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced to me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to catch the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod.

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

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