Pablo Gavi × F1 driver (oc)
Isabelle Carter, a fearless Formula 1 driver, is used to life in the fast lane, with her focus set on winning championships. Pablo Gavi, Spain's rising football star, is equally dedicated to dominating the field.
When the...
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-Isabelle-
I was on pole for Monaco, the crown jewel of Formula 1. Overtaking on this track is almost impossible, but that didn't matter-I was already in the best position. I had the car, the skill, and the drive to win.
I was going to win, I could feel it in my bones. All the critics, the doubters, everyone who said I didn't belong here-they'd have to shut up after today. I was going to prove that I deserved this. I wasn't just another driver passing through the sport. I belonged here. And I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
From the start, it was chaos. The first few corners felt like a battlefield, with elbows flying, wheels almost touching, and no room to breathe. I knew it would be like this-Monaco demands aggression right from the beginning.
Every driver out there was fighting for an inch of space, trying to force their way into a better position. But I didn't panic. I thrived in these moments. The adrenaline, the tight corners, the narrow streets-it was exactly the kind of high-pressure environment I lived for.
I held my ground, defended my position, and took the lead. That's all that mattered. I knew this track like the back of my hand. I had studied every inch of it, run lap after lap in practice, and gone over the strategy with the team a hundred times. Patience was going to be key. Monaco rewards the driver who can stay calm, manage the tires, and wait for the race to come to them.
By lap 32, everything was falling into place. I had built up a comfortable lead over my teammate Charles, who was sitting behind me. I had a clear road ahead, and I knew I just had to keep everything under control.
It was a surreal feeling-leading at Monaco, the most prestigious track in the world, with a Ferrari beneath me. Winning here, of all places, with Ferrari, of all teams, would be the ultimate statement. This was my chance. The moment I had been dreaming about for as long as I could remember.
By lap 57, I was still in the lead, and Charles was trailing behind by nine seconds. It felt perfect, like nothing could go wrong. I was in the zone, focused entirely on the task at hand. But as the laps went by, the tension started to build. I could feel it in every corner, every turn of the wheel. The car responded to my every movement, but I had to be flawless. I knew I couldn't afford a single mistake, not on a track like this. The straights felt like I was on a rocket ship, the acceleration pressing me back into my seat, the vibrations running through my body as the engine screamed. The gap behind me was closing, inch by inch, but I wasn't worried. I had everything under control. With just five laps to go, I was so close I could taste it. The crowd, the podium, the champagne-I could see it all in my mind. My heart was racing, but I kept my focus. Every corner was a calculated move.
But then, just as I was braking into the turn, something felt off. My foot went down, but the response wasn't there. Panic shot through me. My brakes-my brakes were failing.
"Umm, guys, my brakes aren't working,"
I said over the radio, trying to keep calm, trying to process what was happening. But it was real. The car wasn't slowing down. I fought with everything I had to control it, but it was no use. The next thing I knew, I was crashing right in front of the main grandstands, just a few laps away from victory. The impact rattled through me. I was okay, but the frustration, the anger-it hit harder than the crash. I slammed my fists into the steering wheel, adrenaline surging through my veins. I had been so damn close. Just a few more laps, and I would have crossed that finish line in first place, my first Formula 1 win finally in my hands.
I could hear the crowd, the commentators, my race engineer asking if I was okay. But I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just sat there, staring at the wreckage of what could have been. This wasn't just a race. It was the culmination of everything I had worked for. My entire life had led to this moment-the countless hours of practice, the sacrifices, the pressure, the dreams. I had imagined this so many times-standing on the top step of the podium, the British flag waving behind me, proving to the world and to myself that I belonged in this sport. But once again, victory had slipped through my fingers.
The doubts crept in, like they always did after moments like this. Was I really cut out for Formula 1? Was I just another driver who couldn't get it done when it mattered? I had been here for two years now and still couldn't manage to win a race. Were the critics right? Did I not deserve to be in a Ferrari seat-or in Formula 1 at all?
I wanted to be happy for Charles. He won his home race, and that's something special, something you dream about as a kid. But I couldn't shake the bitterness, the overwhelming sense of failure. I had wanted that win so badly. I had craved it, fought for it, pushed myself to the limit for it. And once again, it had been taken away from me at the last moment. As I sat there in the car, staring out at the grandstands, all I could think about was how close I had come-again. It wasn't just about this race. It was about all the times I had been in this position before. All the near-misses, the close calls, the moments when victory was within reach, only for something to go wrong. It felt like I was cursed, like the universe had decided I wasn't meant to win. I had sacrificed everything for this sport. My time, my energy, my life-all of it had gone into chasing this dream. And now, sitting there in the wreckage of what should have been my first win, I wasn't sure if it was enough anymore. The pressure, the expectations, the constant setbacks-it was all starting to weigh on me. Was I chasing something that would never happen?
The silence after the crash was deafening. The crowd had moved on, cheering for Charles and his victory. The world moved on, as it always does. But I was stuck, frozen in that moment of failure. I didn't know how to move forward. I didn't know if I could. Because as much as I wanted to believe that my time would come, that one day I'd stand on that top step, part of me couldn't help but wonder-what if it never did? What if this was as close as I would ever get?
