Thanks Sebby, You Always Know What We Want

If I had the chance to start over || Launt

It got out of hand. I got lost in my own writing while listening to chances on repeat. I startet writing this fic at around 10:30pm and its now 3am so please excuse any mistakes etc and let me know if there are any!

Summary: James has had feelings for Niki for a long time now. He never ends up confessing tho and one day the despair hits him so hard he gets himself so fogged with alcohol and drugs that Niki has to come and save the day once again. Meanwhile James finally opens up about his feelings.

Silverstone

The roar of engines filled the air at Silverstone as James Hunt pulled his helmet off, shaking his golden hair free. James leaned against the pit wall, he glanced across the pit lane as his gaze fell on Niki Lauda, cool and composed, discussing strategies with his team. There was a magnetism to Niki that James couldn't quite shake off, a quiet strength and an enigmatic presence that drew him in.

James found himself watching Niki more than usual. Every precise movement, every calculated decision, and the sheer determination etched on his face fascinated James. He wondered if Niki ever noticed the stolen glances, the lingering looks. It was a fleeting thought, quickly buried beneath a brash smile and a casual shrug. James Hunt wasn't the type to dwell on feelings, especially not feelings as confusing as these.

"Hey, Hunt," a voice called, snapping him out of his reverie. It was one of the mechanics. "We filled her up. Ready for another round?"

James smirked, masking the tumultuous feelings inside. "Always am."

But as he climbed into his car, his mind still kept wandering to Niki.

Monaco

The glamour of Monaco was intoxicating, with its sun-soaked streets and opulent yachts. The competition was fierce, the stakes higher than ever. Yet, James found his thoughts straying towards Niki. They had become rivals on the track and, somehow, confidants off it. There were late-night conversations, hushed and intimate, where they shared dreams and fears over drinks.

One such night, James almost blurted it out. They were on the deck of a yacht, the sea breeze ruffling their hair. Niki was talking about his plans for the next race, but James couldn't focus. His mind was racing with words he couldn't say.

"I admire you, Niki. More than you know," He managed, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

Niki smiled, a rare, genuine smile. "I know, James. I feel the same."

The words hung in the air, open to interpretation. James' heart pounded, but he said nothing more. The moment passed, leaving him with a bittersweet taste of what could have been.

Belgium

There was no reason for him to be this happy. After McLaren made changes to the car it became difficult to drive and James ended up lurching all over the track, holding other drivers up, and eventually retired with gearbox failure.

As the race ended and Niki emerged victorious, James found himself clapping louder than anyone else, his admiration barely contained while his engineers just scoffed at him in disbelieve. He didnt care though. He stopped doing that a long time ago.

Zandvoort

James often caught himself watching Niki, thinking about what might happen if he took the leap and confessed his love.

But he never did. Instead, he masked his feelings with a reckless lifestyle—partying, women, and substances. Each time he saw Niki's determined face, the longing in his heart grew stronger.

The celebration after James's latest victory was in full swing. Champagne flowed, laughter echoed, but James felt a hollowness inside. Across the room, Niki was engaged in conversation, his sharp features softened by a rare smile. He was talking to Marlene, a beautiful woman who seemed to be the only one who could break through Niki's stern exterior.

James's heart ached. He downed another glass of champagne, trying to drown the jealousy and longing that gnawed at him. What if he had taken that chance, back in '73? What if he had told Niki how he felt?

Watkins Glen

James stood in the shadows, watching Niki with Marlene, her laughter ringing out like a melody. He turned away, unable to bear the sight, and retreated to his hotel room. He saw them together often, and each time, a part of him shattered, and James cursed himself for never having the courage to confess his feelings. He never dared to hope.

Trying to numb the pain, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and drugs. The party raged on, but James felt increasingly isolated, lost in his thoughts.

Tokyo

The neon lights of Tokyo painted the city in vibrant hues. The race was over, the celebration in full swing, but James was nowhere to be found.

In his hotel room, James poured himself another drink, the alcohol mixing with the drugs he'd taken earlier. The room spun around him, memories of races, laughter, and stolen glances merging into a painful blur.

He wondered what might have been if he had confessed his love. "What if I told him?" he muttered, downing most of his freshly poured drink "What if I just told him I love him?"

What-ifs and could-have-beens crashed over him in relentless waves, each one more unbearable than the last. His vision blurred, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

James collapsed onto the floor, staring at the ceiling as a sob ripped through him, raw and guttural, shaking his entire body. He tried to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, a torrential flood that refused to be stemmed. His fingers brushed against his cheeks, smearing the tears, mixing them with the alcohol he spilled.

Each sob grew louder, more desperate, as if he could cry out the anguish that had settled deep within his soul. Arms wrapping around his knees, he curled into himself, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to find comfort.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the pain in his chest tightening with every exhale as the room around him seemed to dissolve into a haze of sorrow, the shadows closing in, suffocating him with their presence.

The desperate banging on the door was muffled at first, almost as if it were part of the whirlwind in his head. James barely registered the noise, consumed entirely by his grief. It grew more insistent, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match the frantic beat of his own heart. He heard voices calling his name, but they were distant, like a dream slipping away.

The door swung open with a force that startled him, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Niki Lauda, breathless and wide-eyed. Niki’s face was a mixture of confusion and concern, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

James looked up, his vision swimming through the tears, and saw Niki standing there, silent and stunned. For a moment, everything froze. The banging on the door had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Seeing Niki there, so vividly present when he’d only imagined him in his sorrow, was both a comfort and a fresh stab of pain.

Niki took a step forward, his eyes never leaving James’s. “James,” he said with a forced calmness, the name hanging heavily in the air. “Scheiße, James, what happened?”

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't know who he was apologizing to—Niki, himself, the universe. It didn’t matter.

James tried to speak once more, but the words caught in his throat. He could only stare up at Niki, his emotions laid bare, his sobs a stark admission of his despair. He wiped at his face, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the effort was futile. The weight of his sorrow and regret was too much to bear.

Niki knelt beside him, his expression a mix of sadness and empathy. He reached out a hand, carefully pulling James into a sitting position, supporting him with a firm but gentle grip. “I’m here, alright? We’ll get through this.” he said, his voice steadier than James’s own trembling hands. “Just… just breathe. In Gottes Namen was tust du dir nur an.”

James clung to Niki, his sobs finally quieting and his breathing slowing down. The room still spun, but now there was a lifeline amid the chaos.

Niki stayed with him, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but in that moment, the silence was enough. They sat together on the floor until Niki was convinced James wouldnt fall over or start sobbing again as soon as he let go of him.

He helped James to his feet and guided him to the couch, ensuring he was seated comfortably before moving to fetch a glass of water and some painkillers.

“You can't keep doing this to yourself. Ich kann nicht immer da sein um auf dich auf zu passen." Niki murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. " You need to stop this—drugs, alcohol. You’re destroying yourself."

James’s eyes followed every movement of Niki’s. His gaze was unwavering, even as he struggled to stay conscious. He was too weak to respond verbally, but his eyes spoke volumes, filled with a mix of regret and adoration.

Niki moved about the room, tidying up and picking up the discarded bottles with a practiced efficiency, cleaning the mess and making sure James was well enough to avoid a trip to the hospital. Despite his frustration, there was a tenderness in his touch, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave James in this state, no matter how much James had hurt himself.

As Niki worked, James began to whisper to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of Niki’s movements and his own ragged breathing

"If I had the chance to start over… the first person I’d seek out would be you, Niki."

Niki froze for a moment, his hand hovering over a dirty glass. He looked down, catching James’s eye for a split second. There was something in James’s gaze that made Niki pause, his heart aching despite the anger he felt.

“I should’ve... I should’ve told you, should’ve taken the chance while I could” James continued as he looked up into Niki's eyes “I would’ve done it right this time. I would’ve told you everything. I would-”

"You need to drink your water." Niki interrupted harshly as he turned to put the glass and the empty whiskey bottle on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how-”

Niki leaned in to check James's pulse once more but remained silent, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of James’s emotions. The weight of the words that James had never said lay heavily in the room.

In a halting voice, he continued, "I... I love you, Niki. I've always loved you. And I know I've messed everything up, but if I had another chance, I'd do it all differently. I'd do it right."

For a long moment, Niki said nothing, just knelt there, processing the words that hung heavy in the air. He finally shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and resumed tending to James, his movements a little gentler now.

Making sure James was settled in bed, his head resting on a pillow and a glass of water within reach, Niki turned to leave, casting one last glance at James.

“Rest, James. We'll talk more when you're sober. I’ll be around if you need anything." he said softly, his voice lacking its earlier harshness.

He turned off the light and quietly left the room, leaving James alone in the darkness.

James lay in the darkness, tears streaming down his face once more. He had finally said it, but it felt like he had lost everything. He clung to the hope that maybe, somehow, he could fix things. But for now, he was alone, begging the universe for a chance to turn back time.

The room was silent, save for his whispered plea, "I didn’t mean for it to be this way. Please. Please, let me go back. Let me fix this."

But the past remained unchangeable, and James was left to face the consequences of his silence, his heartache echoing in the empty room.

F1 x Neon Genesis Evangelion

Here are the different EVA unit descriptions for each team!!

1. EVA-00X “The Prototype” (Mercedes)

• Design: Silver and turquoise color scheme, resembling a cutting-edge prototype F1 car. Sleek, efficient, and heavily reliant on AI assistance, mimicking the real-life team’s focus on data and engineering.

>Special Features:

• Extreme Stability Control: Advanced aerodynamics prevent instability at high speeds.

• Energy Recovery System (ERS): Can temporarily boost movement speed or power output using stored energy.

• Adaptive Halo Shielding: A reinforced frame around the cockpit area, inspired by the F1 halo device, providing additional protection.

• Story Role: The “corporate” team. Mercedes has the most advanced Eva, but its reliance on AI creates tension. George struggles with imposter syndrome, while Lewis is the veteran trying to balance idealism with survival.

2. EVA-03V “Berserker” (Red Bull)

• Design: A deep blue, red, and yellow color scheme, sleek yet aggressive with sharp wing-like structures on its back and Bull horns adoring its head.

>Special Features:

• Overdrive Mode: When reaching critical damage, the EVA enters Velocity Mode for approximately 30 seconds where speed and power drastically increase at the cost of all power. The team is currently working on exceeding the 30 sec. mark.

• Active DRS Wings: Can adjust its wing structures mid-combat for high-speed maneuvers.

• Unpredictable Handling: Like a Red Bull F1 car, it thrives on an aggressive but controlled chaos approach.

• Story Role: Max’s Eva has a tendency to go Berserk unpredictably, often winning fights in brutal fashion but leaving him mentally drained. Checo struggles with the pressure of being his backup.

3. EVA-04R “The Scarlet Arrow” (Ferrari)

• Design: Red and black, featuring smooth, elegant curves and golden accents resembling classic Ferrari designs. A beautiful yet temperamental Eva, built for high speed and lethal precision but suffering from synchronization issues (aka, Ferrari’s real-life strategy blunders).

>Special Features:

• Ultra-Lightweight Chassis: Built for sheer acceleration, allowing for blistering speed.

• Emotionally Linked Core: The EVA’s performance is deeply tied to the pilot’s emotions—frustration and desperation can enhance its capabilities but may lead to unpredictable malfunctions.

• Overheating Issues: Similar to Ferrari’s reliability problems, this EVA is prone to mechanical failures under extreme stress.

• Story Role: The tragic heroes. Charles has a deep emotional bond with his Eva, but it often fails him at the worst times. Carlos is the pragmatic warrior, keeping them afloat despite Ferrari’s chaotic leadership.

4. EVA-07A “The Immortal” (Aston Martin)

• Design: Dark green with neon yellow accents, heavily armored but still sleek, resembling a fusion of a tank and a hypercar, specializing in high durability and counterattacks.

>Special Features:

• Regenerative Armor: Can withstand heavy damage and self-repair over time, making it incredibly durable.

• Grip Adaptation: The EVA’s feet have adaptive grip controls, allowing it to move effortlessly across different terrains.

• Ancient Core Synchronization: An older unit, yet inexplicably keeps up with the latest models due to the pilot’s (Nando’s) unmatched experience and having seemingly unbounded fortune.

• Story Role: Alonso, the immortal warrior, is an old veteran who’s seen it all and somehow always survives. Lance struggles to prove he belongs (gets told he only got into the Eva program because of his father and that he actually never was one of the chosen children)

5. EVA-05M “The Papaya” (McLaren)

• Design: Bright orange and blue, lightweight and compact. An experimental Eva excelling at ranged combat with a powerful energy rifle.

>Special Features:

• Adaptive Handling AI: The EVA constantly tweaks its movements for optimal combat efficiency, making it unpredictable to enemies.

• Hybrid Power Mode: Uses a combination of traditional energy cores and an advanced turbo boost system for short bursts of hyper-acceleration.

• Precision Over Power: Unlike other EVAs that rely on brute force, this unit specializes in tactical strikes, often falling behind to analyze before charging at the enemy.

• Story Role: The underdog team. Lando is talented but relies too much on the Handling AI, while Oscar adapts quickly to the high-stakes environment. They push each other forward, but McLaren’s leadership often lets them down.

6. EVA-08B “Phantom” (Williams)

• Design: Deep blue and white with sleek, minimalist lines. A lightweight, nimble Eva with enhanced agility, designed to outmaneuver rather than overpower its enemies. Lacks raw firepower but makes up for it with tactical precision and evasion.

>Special Features:

• Lightweight Carbon Fiber Frame: Focused on raw speed but fragile in direct combat.

• Experimental Jet Boosters: Gives it an edge in acceleration but has limited energy reserves.

• Legacy Core: One of the oldest Evangelion models, upgraded over time with modern enhancements.

• Story Role: The ultimate underdog team. Alex is an elite pilot trapped in an outdated machine, constantly pushing it beyond its limits. Logan struggles to prove himself, dealing with self-doubt as he watches others outperform him. Williams’ engineers work tirelessly, but their limited resources keep them on the back foot.

7. EVA-09H “The Beast” (Haas)

• Design: Black and white with red highlights, a brute-force EVA with a reinforced exoskeleton, built for durability and close combat.

>Special Features:

• Heavy Armor Plating: Takes extreme punishment but sacrifices agility.

• Twin Blades System: Uses dual energy weapons for raw offensive power.

• Unrefined Power Core: Prone to overheating and shutdowns in prolonged battles.

• Story Role: Haas functions as the scrappy backup, holding the line when stronger teams falter. Their Eva is not the fastest or most advanced, but it refuses to go down without a fight. Eva-09H is often deployed in desperate last stands, buying time for others to regroup or retreat. Nico is excellent at damage control and making the best of tough situations. Kevin embraces Eva-47’s brute force, his raw instincts make him unpredictable but sometimes reckless in high-stakes engagements.

8. EVA-10A “The Storm” (Alpine)

• Design: Metallic blue and pink, an elegant yet fierce EVA specializing in precision combat. A high-speed, high-maneuverability Eva, designed for close-quarters combat with plasma blades on each arm. However, its systems tend to overheat and malfunction under stress (side eye).

>Special Features:

• Adaptive Power Core: Balances attack and defense based on combat needs.

• Energy Blade Enhancements: Can channel its core energy into plasma-based weapons (blades).

• High-Altitude Maneuvering: Optimized for aerial and vertical combat.

• Story Role: The dysfunctional duo—Ocon and Gasly are constantly at odds, refusing to work together even when survival is at stake. Their inability to synchronize properly leads to repeated failures, yet somehow, they scrape by.

9. EVA-11V “Golden Child” RB’s Experimental „golden Child“ EVA (VCARB)

• Design: Black and gold, a flashy, aggressive EVA designed for showmanship and performance. A hyper-aggressive, speed-focused Eva that sacrifices durability for extreme agility. Think of it as an F1-style ninja, striking fast before dodging away (In theory)

>Special Features:

• Instant Torque Boosters: Allows rapid acceleration but drains power quickly.

• Counter-Attack Mechanism: Absorbs kinetic energy and redirects it into high-powered strikes.

• Unstable Synch Ratio: Potential for extreme power spikes but hard to control.

• Story Role: The EVAs main goal is to search for young, new, drivers whose sync rate exceeds the „normal“ average. Yuki is a hotheaded, instinctive fighter, sometimes reckless but always fearless. Daniel provides experience and charisma, trying to keep things fun even in the face of disaster. Their Eva is prone to system failures due to its lightweight and experimental structure.

10. EVA-12S “Specter” (Stake F1/Sauber)

• Design: Chrome silver with black and green highlights, a futuristic and experimental EVA with advanced cloaking technology which often needs recalibrating which can take up to multiple days or even weeks due to employee shortage.

>Special Features:

• Liquid-Metal Armor: Can shift its form slightly for minor shape adjustments mid-combat.

• Silent Mode: Cloaking technology which works kinda like a chameleon (its always a gamble (ha) if it actually works tho) and Reduces energy signatures to avoid detection.

• Story Role: Eva-79 is designed for hit-and-run tactics, intelligence gathering, and long-range support. Its stealth capabilities make it a valuable asset in ambush operations, striking from the shadows before vanishing into the chaos. Calm, methodical, and precise, Valtteri excels at tactical combat. He leverages Eva-12S’s agility to control engagements, striking from unexpected angles and retreating before enemies can react. Zhou is skilled at reading battlefield conditions and adjusting his approach. His ability to execute last-second dodges and counterattacks makes him a dangerous opponent in duels but in disadvantage against multiple targets.

Wicked Game - Launt

Launt Fic I promised!

It's a bit late but here it is: A songfic involving Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. A/N: There are switches in PoV but they aren't mentioned.

The world was always on fire for Niki. Every race felt like a battle against time, against death, against the relentless pull of gravity that could steal his life in an instant. But there was one fire he hadn’t expected—a different kind, one that no amount of precision or discipline could extinguish.

James Hunt.

The first time Niki saw him, James was laughing, surrounded by people, completely at ease with the world.  Hunt was wild, unpredictable, everything Niki had learned to avoid. But there was something in that reckless charm, in the way James laughed like the world couldn’t touch him, that pulled him in.

Niki knew, even then, that this man would upend everything.

"The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you."

It had crept up on him, this feeling—like a slow burn he couldn’t control.

Racing was their life, and in that world of speed and danger, they had pushed each other, driven each other mad, and yet there was something—a feeling—that neither could ignore.

It was in the stolen glances across the pit, in the unspoken understanding that only they could know the depth of what it meant to live on the edge. 

But it was more than competition—it was desire, unbidden, unwanted, but there.

"It's strange what desire will make foolish people do."

Niki would never have admitted it, but there was a strange kind of thrill in James' presence. He hated that about himself. Niki wasn’t supposed to feel like this. His life was about logic, about calculated moves, and this? This was the opposite of control. 

Every time James flashed that boyish grin, every time his eyes lingered a moment too long, Niki felt something stir within him—something that threatened to break the walls he'd carefully constructed. He couldn’t allow it.

Love wasn’t for men like him, not in this brutal world where everything could be taken away in an instant. But every time he saw James, the cracks in his walls deepened.

"I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you."

This wasn’t part of his plan. Niki had never intended to let anyone in, especially not someone like Hunt. They were rivals—two men pitted against each other, both striving for victory, for glory. But every race, every heated exchange only tightened the knot in his chest. The truth was inescapable. He had fallen. Fallen hard. And he hated it.

Niki had tried to push him away, tried to focus only on the race, on winning. But James... James was always there, like a persistent flame that refused to die.

"And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you."

Niki could feel it, the inevitable heartbreak that loomed just beyond the horizon. This world wasn’t kind. It didn’t care about love, about fragile connections between two men who should have been enemies. It was all going to come crashing down. And when it did, Niki knew it would break him.

"No, I don’t wanna fall in love..."

James was not supposed to fall in love. Not with Niki Lauda, of all people. Love was not for men like them. He lived for the thrill of the race, for the freedom that came with speed and danger. But there was something about Niki—something that had slipped through his defenses before he even realized it.

"No, I don’t wanna fall in love... with you."

He had fought it, tried to brush it off as just another twist in their rivalry. Niki was meant to be his opponent, not someone who made his heart race faster than any car ever could. But it didn’t matter. He was already in too deep. Every argument, every moment of tension between them was laced with an undercurrent of something more—something neither of them wanted to admit.

"This world is only gonna break your heart."

It was a dangerous game, and James knew it. Love in their world was a risk, one he wasn’t willing to take, not in this world of fast cars and faster lives. They were destined to burn brightly and fade just as quickly. They both lived on the edge, and sooner or later, something would give. And when it did, James was terrified it would shatter them both.

"What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way."

Niki didn’t understand how it had happened. James had wormed his way into his thoughts, into his heart, and there was no turning back now. It wasn’t just the racing—it was the way James smiled like he held the world in his hands, the way he could make Niki feel alive in a way nothing else ever had. It was maddening, this pull between them.

James Hunt had made him vulnerable.

James tilted his head, that trademark smirk playing on his lips, but there was something deeper in his eyes—something that mirrored Niki’s own torment. He wasn’t just toying with him; James was as lost in this as Niki was.

"What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you."

James could see it in Niki’s eyes—the same fear, the same hesitation. It was a game they hadn’t meant to play, but now they were both trapped in it. James had let himself dream of Niki in ways he never should have. But the reality of it all? It was too much. It was too dangerous. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more.

"What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way."

There were moments when James would catch a glimpse of something in Niki’s gaze, something that told him he wasn’t alone in this. But Niki was too guarded, too afraid to let it show. And that was the cruelest part—knowing that, despite everything, Niki would never let himself feel the way James did.

"What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you."

Niki had tried to keep his distance, tried to tell himself it was just a fleeting attraction, nothing more. But James had gotten under his skin, and now, Niki couldn’t stop the dreams from coming. He dreamed of James more than he dreamed of winning. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

"And I don’t wanna fall in love."

Niki could feel the heartbreak coming, like a storm on the horizon. He had let himself fall, despite every instinct screaming at him to stay in control. But it was too late now. James Hunt had stolen his heart, and there was no getting it back.

"No, I don’t wanna fall in love... with you."

James looked at Niki and knew it was already too late for both of them. He had fallen in love with the one man who could break him completely. And even though he knew it was going to end in heartbreak, he couldn’t help himself. This was the wicked game they had been playing all along.

And there was no way out now.

It’s hilarious that James Vowles had to go on F1TV to apologize about what he said about Mick Schumacher being nothing special because so many people INCLUDING Toto Wolff were unhappy about it, and the thing is this. The horse is out of the barn. It doesn’t matter what James Vowles says to apologize because the comments are out there. Whether you disagree or agree with what he said, this is extremely unprofessional verbiage on the part of a team boss who shouldn’t have to backpedal on his statements like this.

Niki Lauda’s drivers license

Okay pure Simi Angst

I don’t really know if I feel 100% comfortable with writing character deaths in rpf so this will probably be the only story containing one.

If you are looking for a happy ending my last ficlet post is this story but with Seb answering Kimi’s calls <3

Kimi had been watching the race from the comfort of his living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, until the camera shifted to a horrifying scene. A massive pile-up had occurred on the track. Cars were strewn across the asphalt like broken toys, smoke rising in ominous plumes.

His stomach churned with dread as he recognized one of the damaged vehicles—a Ferrari. The Fin didn’t dare to let out a breath as the commentator’s voice echoed through his living room, struggling to identify the drivers involved.

Kimi's heart stopped. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed his phone and called Sebastian. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried again, his hands trembling, but there was still no answer. His mind raced as he left a message, his voice taut with fear.

"Seb, it's Kimi. I saw the crash. Where are you? Please, call me back. I need to know you’re okay."

Abandoning his drink, Kimi dashed out of his house, his keys already in hand. He jumped into his car and sped towards the track. The roads blurred around him as he dialed again, each unanswered ring tightening the knot in his stomach.

He left another voicemail, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Sebastian, it’s Kimi again. Please pick up. I’m on my way. Just let me know what's going on, if you’re alright. Please.”

He weaved through traffic, pushing his car to its limits, desperate to reach his friend. Another call, another voicemail.

"Seb, I'm getting closer. I’m almost there. Just hold on, okay? We'll sort this out together. I promise. Call me back when you get this."

As he neared the track, the scene grew more chaotic. Emergency vehicles swarmed the area, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Kimi parked haphazardly and ran towards the paddock, his phone still in hand. He left another voicemail, his voice raw with emotion.

"Seb, it’s Kimi. I’m here. I can see the car. Please, God, let me hear your voice.”

Officials tried to hold him back, but Kimi’s determination was unwavering. He pushed through the crowd, eyes scanning for any sign of his friend. He reached the barriers, the sight of the mangled car making his heart drop. He left another voicemail, his voice shaking.

"Seb, where are you? Tell me you got out of there. Please. Pick up the damn phone and tell me you’re alright.”

He spotted the paramedics, their faces grim, working around the wreckage. His stomach churned as he dialed again, refusing to give up hope.

"Seb, please tell me you’re alright. Why won’t you answer? Answer me, Seb, come on. Don’t do this to me."

Kimi watched helplessly as they pulled Sebastian from the car, his body limp. The medics worked quickly, but there was a finality in their movements that made Kimi's blood run cold. He called once more, voice cracking with desperation.

"Seb, it's Kimi. Help is on the way. Stay strong. I’ll try to get to you."

The paramedics loaded Sebastian onto a stretcher, and Kimi saw the truth in their eyes. He dialed again, one last time, knowing it was futile but unable to stop himself.

"Seb, they're here. Hang tight. We'll get you out safely. I’ll be there. I won’t let you go. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

Tears streamed down Kimi’s face as he climbed over the barriers and stumbled forward, his worst fears realized. The medics tried to keep him back, but he broke through, reaching for his friend, his voice a broken whisper. All those voicemails, all those desperate messages, and now he was too late.

“I’m here, Seb. I’m here.”

The paramedics pulled away the grip he had on Sebastian. Pushing him back and telling him to stay back as the ambulance doors closed and drove off without leaving him a chance to go with them.

As he got guided off of the track and back into the pits he left one final voicemail, his voice raw with emotion.

“Seb, they’re going to fix this. The docs will take good care of you. You’re going to be alright. Just focus on getting better. See you soon.”

But deep down, Kimi knew. He knew that Sebastian wouldn't answer. He wouldn't call back. The reality of the situation crashed over him like a wave, and he sank to his knees, collapsing onto the floor of the Ferrari garage, the phone slipping from his grasp.

The following days were a blur of sorrow and disbelief. The racing community mourned the loss of one of its brightest stars, but for Kimi, it was a personal hell.

He listened to the voicemails he had left, each one a painful echo of his desperate race against time. He visited Seb’s memorial, leaving flowers and sitting in silence, the memories of their friendship playing in his mind.

He spoke to Seb in those quiet moments, his words filled with a deep, abiding love.

“Hey Seb, it’s Kimi. I hope you look down to us once in a while. I’ll keep racing through life, just like you taught me. Last week I won at rally but you were all I could think about. I stood there, while the whole crowd was cheering, thinking how I wish you could be there with me. I miss you.”

Though Sebastian would never answer again, Kimi found a measure of solace in those voicemails. He had tried, he had loved, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

F1 x Neon Genesis Evangelion au

Max.

Story post to my previous drawing.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

Max’s hands gripped the controls, fingers slick with sweat, blood pounding in his temples.

The Angel before him was relentless, its form twisting and shifting with eerie fluidity. Every strike was a surge of primal energy—a force that Max couldn’t seem to contain, no matter how hard he pushed Unit 33 to retaliate. His EVA was battered, bruised, the armor cracked and peeling away in places. But still, it stood. Still, it fought.

Another wave of energy hit, sending Max reeling inside the cockpit. He gritted his teeth, his body jolted violently as his EVA staggered backward, but it didn’t fall.

He couldn’t fall.

He had been fighting this Angel for what felt like days. The city around him had become little more than a memory—broken fragments of steel and stone scattered across the battlefield. But he was still there, still standing.

But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

His vitals were spiking. The monitors flashed with warnings, but Max barely registered them. His breath came in ragged gasps, the LCL in his lungs thickening with each inhale. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, the kind that echoed deep into his bones, but it didn’t matter. He had to keep going. He had to fight.

There was no room for weakness.

He wanted to retreat—just for a moment, to assess the damage, to regroup, to think. He wanted to find a way to make sense of it all. But every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart raced. His chest tightened. Because if he stopped, if he gave in, lives would be lost.

People were counting on him.

He was their perfect pilot.

A perfect pilot didn’t retreat.

A perfect pilot didn’t allow failure.

Not when there was a city to protect. Not when people needed him. Not when NERV was watching, waiting for him to perform—to succeed.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, for release, but he refused to listen. His hands trembled, but they didn’t leave the controls.

NERV had no patience for weakness. They never had.

They didn’t care if he was hurt. They didn’t care if he was dying.

As long as he was standing, as long as he was able to fight, he had no choice but to keep going.

No one else should do this. No one else could do this.

He couldn’t stop.

With a deep, shaky breath, Max drove Unit 33 forward again, the EVA’s claws scraping against the cracked asphalt. The Angel was already charging toward him, its limbs twisting and shifting, ready to strike once more.

His pulse raced. His sync rate spiked dangerously. The cockpit shook violently as the Angel’s tendrils slammed into his EVA, throwing him back again. Max’s vision blurred as he fought to maintain control, his hands gripping the controls so tight his fingers went numb.

Pain flooded his chest. Pain shot through his head.

But he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t give up.

“Max! Your vitals—!” The voice crackled over the comms, but it was distant, muffled, like someone shouting from far away.

It didn’t matter.

Max’s jaw clenched, his breath harsh and uneven. The world around him felt like it was spinning, the edges of his vision darkening, but he pushed it all down. He could still fight. As long as he could move, as long as he had breath in his lungs, he could keep fighting.

He had to.

He was their perfect pilot. The one who never stopped. The one who never failed.

Even as his body screamed for rest, even as his mind teetered on the edge of exhaustion, he kept going. Because the world demanded it.

Because they expected it.

A flicker at the edges of his vision. The sync rate display spiked.

85%... 90%... 94%...

He growled, shaking his head. "Not now. Not yet."

A second strike. The Angel’s attack tore into Unit 33’s plating, exposing the writhing mass of muscle beneath. Pain surged through him—not real, but real enough. His nerves lit up as if he had been struck himself. The sync rate climbed again.

97%... 99%...

"Max! Keep control!" The voice—his comms officer? His strategist? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

The anger came in a wave. A deep, all-consuming heat. The walls of the entry plug pulsed around him, the LCL thickening, as if alive. The heartbeat of the EVA—his heartbeat—pounded in his ears.

100%.

Then, silence.

It felt like hours had passed.

Unit 33 twitched. Its jaw cracked open wider than it should. A low, inhuman snarl vibrated through the battlefield.

The EVA moved—and Max wasn’t the one moving it.

With a deafening roar, Unit 33 launched itself forward, faster than before, limbs contorting, armor splitting as its organic form expanded. It tore into the Angel like a rabid animal, ripping through its core with bloodied claws. The once-monolithic creature writhed and screeched, but Unit 33 didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Max gasped, trying to override the controls. Nothing responded. The EVA thrashed wildly, breaking the Angel apart piece by piece, ignoring the fact that it had already won. The thing was dead. And yet, Unit 33 was still moving, still destroying, still devouring.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own laughter—low, broken, and not entirely his own.

—

The cockpit disappeared.

The battlefield disappeared.

Everything disappeared.

—

Max floated.

Drifting in a vast, endless sea of nothingness, weightless. lost in a space without shape, without form.

It was as though the air itself had melted away. There was nothing. No edges, no boundaries. Just an infinite softness wrapping around him, enfolding him like a cocoon of silence. He couldn’t name it—the color, the sensation. It wasn’t light, but neither was it dark. It was... something. The absence of something. Or everything.

Every time he tried to name it, the thought slipped away, like sand through his fingers.

A slow breath.

The emptiness felt warm in his chest. It wasn’t his breath. It wasn’t his body. But the air still moved. It still filled him, and in that slow rise and fall, he felt something.

He knew this place.

A sense of relief bloomed, quiet and deep. It was as though something heavy had been taken from him, something unspoken, something he had never let himself acknowledge. A breath that he hadn’t known he was holding.

He Knew. Unit 33 was tearing apart the Angel—or worse, something else.

He could hear it. NERV was screaming through comms, trying to reach him.

But he didn’t care.

Because this was the only place where he could be vulnerable.

No battle. No expectations. No weight crushing down on his shoulders, forcing him to be perfect. Here, he didn’t have to hold up the façade of strength, didn’t have to wear the armor he’d built around himself.

Here, there was nothing.

And in that nothingness, it was waiting for him.

A figure stood above him. Watching. Protecting.

It had no metal, no restraints, no plating to hide behind. It bared its true form—muscle and sinew, raw and unshaped, not human, but something close. Its eyes, deep and endless, held something he couldn’t name. It reached for him, but did not touch him. It didn’t need to.

Its presence was vast, too large to understand, and yet its outline was etched into his mind as if it had always been there. It didn’t move, but he felt it, hovering above him like a shadow without a form. Or maybe it was light—he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that it was watching.

A strange pulse—faint but unmistakable—washed over him, and the space around him seemed to shift, as if the very nothingness breathed with him.

He felt held.

It was holding him.

Keeping him safe.

It was not a grip, not an embrace. It was a knowing, an understanding that didn’t need words or touch. It existed between the silence, in the place where nothing could reach him.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to float in it.

Weightless.

There were no edges. No time. The concept of moments felt like waves, but they never broke. He drifted, and yet he didn’t move. And somewhere beneath it all, he could feel it—the thing that had always been there.

He didn’t know if it was his.

He didn’t know if it was him.

But it was with him.

His fingers twitched. His body, for the first time in so long, felt light.

His eyelids grew heavy.

He let them close.

His mind felt detached, his thoughts soft like ripples in water, fading before they could take shape. There was no rush. No urgency. Only the slow, quiet rhythm of something waiting.

The figure above him remained, and in its presence, he didn’t feel the need to understand. He only existed—floating, breathing, and being held by something that wasn’t quite light, and wasn’t quite shadow.

A moment, perhaps. Or maybe, no moment at all.

It didn’t matter.

He let go.

Let it take over.

And for the first time in a long time, Max rested.

“Kimi doesn’t care about any-“ shut your disgusting ass mouth. And just LOOK

HELP??? 😭😭😭

Lots of work to do this week but I’ll post the Simi ficlet later today, I promise!!