Ok Here’s The Promised Simi Ficlet

Ok here’s the promised Simi ficlet

You can actually read this as platonic and romantic so I hope you guys like it.

I greatly appreciate any feedback and maybe even some prompts or requests if y’all want me to write more specific ficlets.

Anyway here’s Kimi being a gentle sweetheart and wiping away our golden puppy’s tears

Please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes or dm me if they are too annoying lmao

In 2010, Vettel’s rise was meteoric. His sheer talent and the prowess of the Red Bull Racing team created a formidable combination. The first championship was a dream come true. Yet, even then, whispers of criticism began to surface. Some questioned whether his success was due to the car rather than his skill. The phrase “a champion built by engineers” started making rounds in the press.

By 2011, the whispers had grown louder. Journalists began to dissect every aspect of Vettel’s driving. “Does Vettel really have the racing intelligence of a true champion?” one headline questioned. Every maneuver, every decision on the track was analyzed with a fine-tooth comb. If he won, it was expected. If he faltered, it was headline news.

The 2012 season was perhaps the most grueling. The competition was fiercer, and Vettel’s dominance was no longer a given. Media outlets latched onto any sign of vulnerability. “Is the pressure getting to Vettel?” they asked after a rare mistake at the Malaysian Grand Prix. The relentless questions about his mental fortitude began to chip away at his once unshakeable confidence.

By 2013, despite securing his fourth championship, Vettel was exhausted. The constant barrage from journalists was relentless. At every press conference, the questions were sharper, the critiques more pointed. “Does Vettel’s dominance signal a lack of real competition in F1?” and “Is Vettel ruining the sport’s unpredictability?” were common refrains. It wasn’t just about his driving anymore; it was about his very presence in the sport.

In private, the toll was evident. Vettel, once full of vigor and passion, found himself questioning his own abilities. The joy of racing was being overshadowed by the fear of making mistakes that would be ruthlessly dissected. His team noticed the change, often finding him deep in thought, a shadow of the exuberant driver they once knew.

One particularly grueling press conference after the 2013 Japanese Grand Prix became a turning point. Despite securing yet another victory, the press conference that followed was anything but celebratory.

The room was filled with journalists, eager to ask their questions. However, this time, the tone was more aggressive and personal. One after another, they peppered Sebastian with questions that implied his success was hollow. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable tension, and it wasn’t long before the questioning turned hostile.

“Sebastian, do you think your success is more about Adrian Newey’s car than your driving skills? Do you think you’ve had an unfair advantage with the car?” one reporter asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“How do you respond to claims that your championships are less valuable than those of past legends because you never had real competition?” another chimed in, eyes narrowing.

His voice, usually steady and confident, wavered. “I have always given my best, on and off the track,” he said, his frustration palpable. “I respect the history of this sport and the champions who came before me. If you think my achievements are less because of the car I drive, then you underestimate the effort it takes to win consistently. This isn’t just about me; it’s about the entire team. We work hard for every single victory.”

The questions were thinly veiled accusations, each one more cutting than the last.

Vettel’s usual composed demeanor began to crack

“Do you think your dominance is ruining the sport’s excitement?”

“Isn’t it true that without the best car, you wouldn’t even be a contender?”

The relentless barrage of accusations and doubts hammered at Vettel’s psyche. He tried to maintain his composure, but the weight of the criticism was overwhelming. His answers became shorter, his voice strained. The room seemed to close in on him, the once supportive walls now echoing with doubt and disdain.

Finally, a particularly harsh question broke him. “Sebastian, do you think you’ll ever be as respected as drivers like Schumacher or Senna, given that your success is seen as less earned?”

Vettel’s eyes glossed over with a mix of frustration and hurt. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the words caught in his throat. “I… I think that’s enough for today,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “Excuse me.”

He stood up abruptly, leaving the room in a hushed silence. The journalists, momentarily stunned, watched as he walked out, his shoulders slumped under the weight of their words.

Sebastian sank onto a bench, his head in his hands. The tears came unbidden, hot and silent, as he fought to keep his sobs from escaping. The weight of the season, the constant scrutiny, and the relentless pressure finally broke through his defenses. He felt small, overwhelmed, and terribly alone.

“Seb?”

The voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut through the fog of Sebastian’s misery. He looked up to see Kimi standing a few feet away, his expression as unreadable as ever. Kimi had always been an enigma, a man of few words, but there was something in his eyes now—a depth of understanding that Sebastian hadn’t expected.

“Are you okay?” Kimi’s voice was gentle, devoid of the usual sarcasm and aloofness.

Sebastian tried to muster a response, but the words caught in his throat. He shook his head, his shoulders trembling with the effort to hold back his tears. Kimi’s presence was both comforting and disconcerting; the Finnish driver had never been one for emotional displays, and Sebastian didn’t know what to expect.

Kimi took a step closer, then another, until he was standing right beside Sebastian. Without a word, he sat down on the bench, his arm reaching out to rest gently on Sebastian’s back. The gesture was simple, but it carried a world of meaning. It was an offer of solace, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this moment of vulnerability.

After a moment of silence Sebastian lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. “I can’t do this anymore, Kimi. They keep tearing me down. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Kimi pulled him into a hug, strong and reassuring. “Listen to me, Seb. You are an incredible driver. You’ve proven it time and again. The media… they don’t understand. They don’t see the hard work, the dedication. They only see the results, and they twist them to fit their narrative.”

Sebastian shuddered, hot tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and Kimi leaned back just enough to be able to look into Seb’s glassy eyes and wipe away the tears while he spoke, his voice a soothing murmur in the quiet room.

“You’ve achieved so much. Four World Championships, countless won races. Don’t let them take that away from you. Remember why you started racing. The love for the sport, the thrill of the race. That’s what matters.”

As Kimi held him, he reached up to stroke a stray curl out of Sebastian’s face, the gesture so gentle and innocent that it broke through Sebastian’s defenses. A sob escaped his lips, and he buried his face in Kimi’s chest, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Kimi continued to whisper soothing words, his hands stroking Sebastian’s back in a steady, comforting rhythm.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Sebastian’s muffled sobs and Kimi’s calming whispers. Sebastian clung to Kimi, drawing strength from the Fins unwavering support. He felt the knots of tension slowly begin to unwind, replaced by a sense of warmth and security.

“You are a champion, Seb, my champion” Kimi continued, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let their words define you. You define yourself by your actions, by your passion.”

Sebastian nodded against Kimi’s chest, the tears still flowing but the anguish beginning to ebb.

For a long time, they sat there in silence, the noise of the outside world fading into the background. Kimi’s arms remained a steady anchor, his silent support speaking volumes. When Sebastian finally lifted his head, he saw a small, understanding smile on Kimi’s face.

“Thank you, Kimi,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kimi’s embrace tightening around Sebastian. “You don’t have to do anything without me. We’re in this together. And no matter what happens, I’ll always have your back.”