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37sommz · 1 month ago

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❁ : no love . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: angst. ✼. wc: 5.8k.

after a botched pit stop in azerbaijan and a withdrawal in canada, michaela's side of the garage is heading down a slippery slope. michaela's depleted spirit can't take much more. until silverstone.

✼. warnings: language, arguments, more mclaren papaya mess. ✼. notes: so sorry but yuki is the villain in this part.

000.⠀⠀JULY 02, 2022 › Silverstone, UK.

Michaela stood tall in her cramped garage, surrounded by the mechanical hum of the Silverstone Grand Prix. Her eyes scanned her McLaren car, the sleek machine adorned with the papaya orange and blue livery that had become her battle armor. The smell of the mechanical tools and racing fuel filled her nose, a familiar scent that had become almost comforting over the years. Despite the whispers that had followed her since the last race, she was in her element, she could feel it.

Her last conversation with Jenson replayed in her mind as she climbed into the cockpit. He had tried to ease her nerves, but his words of reassurance had only served to highlight the precariousness of her situation. She pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

The British Grand Prix was a chance for redemption, and she was not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way. The sound of the engines firing up around her sent a shiver down her spine, a reminder of the power and danger that lay just beyond her grip. Her first free practice session had gone as expected, Michaela lay in comfortable territory on the rankings. The car felt great and she was at the helm, masterminding every turn and hum through the twists of the Silverstone circuit. The second session had followed in similar fashion. She did just enough in the car to provide a glimpse of her potential for the weekend, but not nearly enough for any real predictions to be made.

Michaela knew the media was watching her closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. The whispers grew louder, the questions more pointed. Her rivalry with Lando was a hot topic, especially after the disasters in Saudi Arabia, Azerbaijan, and Canada. But she had faced adversity before and had come out on top. As she stepped out of the garage and into the press conference room following the conclusion of Friday's practice runs, she felt the beginning of vindication start to settle in.

The journalists kept coming back around to her, their faces a mix of curiosity and accusation. The air was thick with the anticipation of a scandal, a juicy headline waiting to be born. One journalist, in particular, had a glint in his eye as he asked, "Michaela, what's your response to the rumors that Lando has been receiving preferential treatment from the team?"

Michaela took a deep breath, her grip on the microphone in her hand tightening. "My focus is on my performance," she replied with a steely smile, her voice as smooth as the freshly paved circuit she'd soon be racing on. "I've seen the times, and I know what I'm capable of. The team is doing their best, and I have full confidence in McLaren." Her response was met with a smatter of applause, a few nods of approval. It was a dance she'd done before, dodging the media's jabs with the grace of a seasoned professional.

The weekend dragged on, the tension between her and Lando palpable. She could feel his eyes on her during the practice session early Saturday morning, the unspoken challenge in every rev of his engine. But she had her own demons to face. Her relationship with Jenson was a tightrope walk, and the fear of losing her grip on her career was a constant weight on her shoulders.

Qualifying day arrived with a mix of nerves and excitement. The Silverstone circuit buzzed with energy, the crowd eager to see who would claim pole position. As she geared up for Q3, the final showdown, she knew she had to put everything aside and just drive. The pressure mounted as she took off for her out lap, the thunderous roar of the engines around her a reminder of the blend of power and ambition at play.

Michaela's heart raced as she pushed her McLaren to the limit, each turn a testament to her skill and determination. Her qualifying lap was pure poetry, a dance of precision and speed that would secure her a spot on the third row in 5th, just behind the two Red Bulls and Ferraris. The crowd erupted into applause, and she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. The first question out of her mouth as she crossed the lap as the clock ran down was, "Where'd Lando end up?" The response of '7th' was left hanging in the air as she selfishly allowed her heart to flutter with ego.

The evening before the race, she and Jenson talked over the phone, his voice a gentle reprieve from the storm of the day. He apologized for pushing the topic of their relationship into the public eye, saying, "You're right, love. We'll do it on your terms." She felt the knot in her stomach loosen slightly, appreciating his understanding but still feeling the pressure to make a decision. They ended the call with a promise to meet up after the race, regardless of the outcome.

000.⠀⠀JULY 03, 2022 › Silverstone, UK.

Sunday dawned bright and early, the air thick with the scent of hunger and anticipation. As she put on her helmet, she could almost taste the podium champagne, her resolve to win stronger than ever.

But fate had other plans.

Michaela's heart sank as she heard the words from Zak Brown, her boss and McLaren's CEO, just before the race. Something about a potential team order to go on the defensive that could favor Lando. She had added a justification for the choice, something about standings and sponsors. She tried to push the thoughts away, but the doubt had already planted its seed.

As the lights turned green, she stalled, the car jolting awkwardly off the line as she dropped to 9th place. The roar of the McLaren fans morphed into a collective groan of disappointment, the air around her thick with the smell of misfortune as the field sped away. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos. Her engineer's voice crackled over the radio, a mix of concern and urgency, but she couldn't respond, her focus solely on regaining her lost positions.

Her first pit stop was a disaster. The mechanics were not prepared, fumbling with the tires. The seconds ticked by as she sat stationary, the frustration burning in her chest. When she was finally released, she shot out of the pits with a simmering rage, only to be met by Yuki Tsunoda, his Alpha Tauri car snapping at her heels. As he engaged in a risky twist with her, Michaela's anger that had been simmering within her boiled over.

The overtake was clean, a testament to her skill and patience, but Yuki wasn't going to let it go without a fight. He lunged back at her, tires squealing in protest as they danced dangerously close to the edge of the track. The crowd held their collective breath, the tension in the air as visible as the exhaust fumes.

Michaela felt a rush of adrenaline as she saw her opportunity to put distance between them. She floored the pedal, the engine screaming in response. The sound of the tires on the asphalt was a symphony of speed and grip, her car an extension of her will. But Yuki was persistent, his aggression unyielding.

The battle continued, a blur of Orange and Blue as their cars filed through the historic track. The heat of the rare British summer sun bore down on her, the cockpit a sauna of concentration and anger. Every time she glimpsed in her mirrors to catch sight of Yuki, it was a painful reminder of her botched start and the game of 'what if' she had been playing in her mind for the past 15 laps.

Michaela's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her eyes never leaving the track. The crowd's cheers grew louder as she approached the spot where she had made the overtake. She could feel the energy of the fans urging her on, willing her to push through the pain and frustration. But it was a fleeting victory, every corner a potential disaster waiting to happen.

As they approached the fast-approaching right-hand turn at Stowe, he took a risk, going wide, his tires grazing the grass. She saw her chance and took it, her car responding beautifully as she swung around him. The crowd roared as she reclaimed the position, but Yuki wasn't done yet. He came back at her, his car clipping her rear wing as he tried to muscle his way past. The contact sent her McLaren into a spin, the world around her a whirlwind of color and motion.

Her heart racing, she watched as the tire barrier grew closer, the world outside the cockpit becoming a blur of fear and frustration. Time slowed as she braced for impact, the thud of the car against the wall jolting her body. The sudden silence was deafening as the engine cut out, the only sound the hiss of escaping air and the faint crackle of the dead radio.

Her engineer, Rob, tried to get her attention over the radio, his voice strained with tension. "Michaela, are you okay?" He asked, the static crackling in her ears. She didn't respond, her thoughts a whirlwind of anger and frustration. She sat, dazed, as the safety car was deployed and the marshals rushed to her side.

Michaela's mind was a cloud of emotions as she climbed out of the wreckage. She could feel the eyes of the world on her, the cameras capturing every moment of her defeat. Yuki pulled up alongside, an annoyed look on his face, his words of apology barely audible over the engine noise. The frustration boiled over and she slammed her fist on the side of her car, the anger clear in her eyes.

The medical team checked her over, but she brushed them off, more concerned with the damage to her ego than any bruises she may have sustained. As she was escorted back to the pits, the weight of her failure pressed down on her shoulders. The crowd's cheers had turned to gasps, the excitement of the race now tinged with concern for her safety. She could barely bring herself to open her eyes fully, the pounding in her head echoing hisses of failure and upsetting shortcomings.

The moment she stepped out of the marshall car, the disappointments of the race weekend engulfed her. Mechanics swarmed around her, checking for any signs of injury while team members whispered about the potential repercussions of the crash. In the midst of this, Yuki's voice rang out clear over the huffing of the team.

"That was a bad move, Sommers," he spat, his eyes narrowed as he removed his helmet. "You had no right to take the inside like that."

Michaela's anger flared, igniting like a spark in dry grass. "Don't you dare blame me for your inability to drive in a straight fucking line," she shot back, her voice carrying over the rumblings of the pit lane. The tension between them was palpable, a live wire ready to snap.

Their words grew heated, accusations and recriminations flying as their teams looked on in shock. The cameras had caught every second, broadcasting their argument across the globe. It was a spectacle that no one could have anticipated, two of the sport's rising stars at each other's throats. The mechanics tried to pull them apart, their faces a mix of concern and embarrassment.

The argument was finally broken up by a burly figure in McLaren overalls, his voice a thunderous boom over the din. It was her team's chief mechanic, his face red with rage. "That's enough," he bellowed, his hands firmly planted on their shoulders. "We've got a race to manage."

Michaela took a step back, her chest heaving as she fought to regain her composure. Yuki glared at her before turning away, stalking off towards his own garage. The cameras continued to roll, the scene playing out in real-time on the screens lining the pit wall. Her heart was racing, the adrenaline from the crash mixing with the anger still coursing through her veins. She knew she had to get control of herself, to keep her emotions in check. But it was too late; the damage was done.

The race continued without her, a stark reminder of her failure. She watched from the pit wall, her eyes never leaving the track as Lando and the others fought for position. Each pass, each overtake, stung like a slap in the face. The voices in her head grew louder, questioning her place in the sport, her worth as a driver. Was she really as good as she had thought?

Her engineer, Rob, was by her side, trying to offer words of encouragement. But she couldn't hear him over the roar of the engines, the echo of the crowd's disappointment, and the thundering beat of her own heart. All she could think about was the look on Zak's face when he saw the replay and the inevitable questions from her manager, Guido, about her contract.

Michaela's eyes followed the cars as they disappeared around the final turn, heading towards the checkered flag. Lando would be finishing in a well-earned sixth place, something she couldn't even secure this weekend. The knot in her stomach tightened as the reality of her situation set in. Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of her headphones.

"Michaela, we need to get you to the medical center now," Rob’s voice was firm, yet filled with a hint of concern. She nodded, letting the team lead her away from the chaos, her head down to avoid the prying eyes of the media.

The medical center was a blur of white and blue as she was poked and prodded, questions about her well-being flying at her from every angle. Her thoughts remained on the race, on the podium that had slipped through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. The doctor's voice was a distant murmur as she replayed every moment in her head, searching for where she had gone wrong.

Finally, she was given the all-clear, but her mind was anything but. She stormed through the McLaren garage, the smell of burning rubber and hot metal a constant reminder of the battle she'd left unfinished. Guido found her, his expression a mix of disappointment and frustration. He knew better than to speak to her now, the fire in her eyes a warning to tread lightly.

In the post-race press conference, she couldn't escape the questions about her argument with Yuki. A journalist, eager for drama, asked, "Michaela, can you comment on the tension between you and Tsunoda?" She took a deep breath, her jaw clenched tight. "It's just racing," she said through gritted teeth, her voice a forced calm. "We're all out there fighting for the same thing."

The room was a sea of flashing cameras and probing eyes, each journalist hungry for a piece of her. Beata, her press officer, shot her a warning glance, but it was too late. The dam had broken, and now the sharks were circling.

Michaela took a deep breath and faced the horde, her heart pounding in her chest as she grew more agitated by the second. "Yes, there was an incident on track, but that's all it was. Just racing." Her voice was firm, but she could feel the tremble in her hands.

The questions kept coming, each one more pointed than the last. She tried to keep her cool, to stick to the script, but the anger was too much. "I don't know what else you want me to say," she spoke plainly. "We're all out there to win, and sometimes things get heated."

The room fell silent, the only sound the clack of cameras capturing the moment. The moderator stepped in, trying to steer the conversation back on track, but it was too late. The journalists had caught the scent of a scandal and weren't letting go. "Michaela, is there any truth to the rumors of tension within the team?"

Her eyes flashed with anger as she leaned into the microphone. "I've said all I'm going to say about that," she bit back, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. She could feel Beata's eyes boring into her, willing her to walk away, but she was beyond caring. The whispers of doubt and favoritism had been eating away at her for too long, and she wasn't going to let them win.

The press conference was a blur, a minefield of words she carefully stepped around. Each question was a trap, designed to catch her off guard, but she was ready for them. Every answer was a calculated move, a defense of her talent and her team's strategy. But as she stepped out of the press pen, the weight of the weekend's events finally hit her.

Her eyes searched the bustling garage for Beata, who was nowhere to be found. She needed to vent, to scream, to let it all out. The tension in her shoulders was a constant reminder of the crash, the argument, the unspoken accusations. It was then she saw Guido, her manager, his face etched with worry and concern.

Michaela stormed towards him, the sounds of the garage fading into the background. "What the hell was that about, Guido?" she spat out, her voice a mix of anger and defeat. "Why did they have to pit me with those tires?"

Guido held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Michaela, let's talk about this in private," he suggested, leading her to a quieter area behind the garage. She followed, her mind racing with the events of the race.

Once out of earshot, she unleashed her frustration. "I can't believe this. The stall on the line, the pit stop, and now this with Yuki!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking with emotion. Guido's expression grew sterner as he listened, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Michaela, I know this weekend hasn't been easy, but you've got to keep your head focused," he said firmly, his voice low as he tried to keep his driver in line. "We're all feeling the pressure, but lashing out like that isn't going to help."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but she found none. The walls of the garage felt like they were closing in on her, the weight of the weekend's failure crushing her spirit. "What do you know about pressure?" she snapped, her voice filled with bitterness. "You sit up in your fancy office and tell me what to do, but you've never been out there, fighting for your life."

Guido's expression softened slightly. "You're right, I haven't," he admitted. "But I've seen drivers with half your talent crack under a quarter of the pressure you're under. You're better than this, Michaela."

Michaela's anger didn't abate. "Better than what? Crashing out because of a bad pit stop? Or maybe better than fighting with other drivers over a podium that was never meant for me?"

Guido sighed, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You know what I mean. You're one of the best drivers out there, and you can't let one bad race define you. We need to work on the contract situation, yes, but now is not the time for this."

Michaela's eyes searched his, looking for a glimmer of hope. "What if I don't want to stay?" she whispered, the words hanging in the air like a confession.

Guido's expression grew serious. "You have a contract, and we need to honor that," he said firmly. "But if you're unhappy, we'll talk after the weekend. For now, you need to keep your focus on the next race."

Michaela nodded, her eyes welling up with tears she refused to shed. The pressure of keeping her emotions in check was almost too much to bear. She knew he was right, but the feeling of being trapped was suffocating.

As they walked back to the garage, she spotted Jenson in the distance, talking to his fellow pundits, their expressions a mix of shock and concern as they watched the replay of her crash. She felt a pang of guilt for dragging him into this mess. Their relationship was supposed to be a sanctuary, not a source of additional strain.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears that she hastily wiped away. She didn't want to face the cameras with red eyes and she didn't want to give the media more fuel for their fire.

Guido steered her towards the team's motorhome, the only sanctuary where she could retreat for a brief moment of solace. "Go in, take a breather, and we'll talk after," he said, his grip on her shoulder reassuring.

Michaela nodded, her legs feeling like lead as she climbed the stairs into the plush sanctum of the McLaren motorhome. She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the narrow corridor. The silence was deafening, and she leaned against the cool metal, letting out a shaky sigh. Her eyes fell on her racing suit, still damp with sweat and stained with the grime of the track. The smell of burnt rubber clung to her, a painful reminder of her failure.

She stripped off the suit, the material peeling away from her sticky skin. In the small bathroom, she turned on the cold water, letting it cascade over her, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of the race still lingering in her veins. The water stung as it flowed over the scrapes forming from the crash, a physical representation of the pain she felt inside.

Michaela stood under the shower for what felt like an eternity, her thoughts racing. The pressure to perform, the fear of losing her seat, the strain on her relationship with Jenson, the constant scrutiny of the media—it all converged into a tumultuous storm in her mind. She wished she could wash away the weight of it all with the soap and water swirling around the drain.

Stepping out, she wrapped herself in a towel, the cool fabric offering a brief respite from the heat of her emotions. She took a moment to catch her breath, staring at her reflection in the foggy mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks flushed with anger. She looked nothing like the poised driver who had stepped onto the grid just hours before.

Michaela dressed in clean clothes provided by the team, her movements mechanical as she tried to push aside the turmoil of her thoughts. The soft knock on the door brought her back to reality, and she took a deep breath before opening it to find Beata waiting outside.

"Michaela, we need to talk," Beata's voice was firm, yet filled with genuine concern.

Michaela nodded wearily, stepping aside to let her in. "I know," she murmured, collapsing onto the couch. The cushions enveloped her in a comfort she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

Beata's eyes searched hers, reading the raw emotion on her face. "Your behavior today was unacceptable," she began, her voice gentle but firm. "We can't have you fighting with other racers, especially not on live television."

Michaela nodded, the fight draining out of her. "I know," she said softly. "It just got to me. The pit stop, the questions about Lando, the whispers about favoritism..."

Beata sat beside her, her expression softening. "You're under a lot of pressure, more than anyone should have to bear. But you're better than that. You're a professional, and you can't let it get to you like this," she said, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

Michaela looked down, the weight of the weekend's events crashing down on her. "I know," she whispered. "But it's just..." she trailed off, unable to put her feelings into words.

Beata nodded, her expression understanding. "It's a lot, I know," she said gently. "But you can't let it consume you. We need to figure out how to manage this, how to keep your focus on the track."

Michaela leaned back into the cushions, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the ceiling. "I just want to race," she murmured. "I don't care about the drama, the politics, the cameras."

Beata squeezed her arm gently. "I know you do, but you're in the public eye now, and people are going to look for a story. You've got to learn to rise above it, to keep your cool when things get tough."

Michaela nodded, her eyes closing briefly as she took in her words. It was a lesson she knew all too well but had clearly forgotten in the heat of the moment. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice small and defeated.

"We'll issue a statement about the crash and the incident with Yuki," Beata said, her tone professional once more. "But we need to be careful with how we handle this. The last thing we want is for it to blow up into something it's not."

Michaela nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She knew the media would be hungry for more, eager to dissect every word she said and every gesture she made. The thought of facing the press again made her stomach churn, but she knew it was a necessary evil.

Beata stirred, reaching for Michaela's phone out of her handbag. "Jenson's been trying to call," she said gently.

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't even thought about Jenson, about how he might have seen the crash, the argument, and the subsequent fallout. She took the phone, her hand trembling slightly as she answered the call.

"Hey," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jenson's voice was filled with concern. "Are you okay? I've been worried sick after watching that."

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm fine," she lied, the ache from the crash still present. "Just a bit shaken."

"You don't sound fine," Jenson said, his voice tight with worry. "What happened with Yuki? I've never seen you that angry before."

Michaela leaned her head back against the cool leather of the couch, feeling the weight of his question. "It was just a racing incident," she replied, her voice hollow. "We both wanted the same thing, and we didn't get it."

"Is that all it was?" Jenson's voice was probing, not quite convinced.

Michaela closed her eyes, the sound of his voice soothing the storm inside her. "It's just...it's been a tough weekend," she admitted, her voice cracking. "The pit stop, the questions about favoritism, and then this with Yuki..."

"I know, sweetheart," Jenson said, his voice filled with empathy. "But you've got to keep your head up. You can't let the media get to you like this."

Michaela felt a tear slip down her cheek. "I know," she said, her voice breaking. "It's just...I don't know if I can keep doing this."

"Keep doing what?" Jenson's voice was gentle, coaxing.

Michaela took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush. "This whole circus," she said, gesturing to the bustling paddock outside. "The racing, the drama, the expectations. It's just too much."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and she could almost see Jenson's furrowed brow, his mind racing as he searched for the right words to say. "Michaela, you're one of the best drivers out there. You can't let a bad race, or some idiot journalist, or even a dickhead like Yuki, get you down."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite her pain. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I just wish it was that simple."

"It is simple," Jenson said firmly. "You're in this because you love to race, not because you love the drama. Remember that."

Michaela nodded, his words resonating with her. "Guess I've gotta start looking at other teams," she murmured. "Even if McLaren decided to stick with me for next season, I'm not sure I'd be okay with that. Not at this point."

Beata and Jenson sighed on either ends of the call, both knowing the gravity of her words. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Beata said, trying to lighten the mood. "For now, let's get through this weekend."

Michaela nodded, her eyes still closed. "I'm sorry for putting you through this," she murmured into the phone, the weight of her emotions threatening to crush her.

"You don't have to apologize to me," Jenson said firmly. "But you do need to apologize to the team. They're all here supporting you, and you can't let them down."

Michaela nodded, wiping away the stray tear that had escaped. "I know," she said, her voice stronger now. "I'll go talk to them."

The conversation with Jenson had brought a small spark of resolve to her. She knew she couldn't let one bad race define her, especially not in front of her team who had put their faith in her. She took a deep breath and opened the door to the bustling garage, the sound of engines and chatter filling her ears once more.

The McLaren crew looked up as she approached, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. She could see the question in their eyes—what had happened? But she didn't want to rehash the drama of the day. Instead, she focused on what needed to be said.

"I'm sorry," she began, her voice loud enough to carry over the garage's din. "I know I screwed up out there, and let my emotions get the better of me." The team stared at her, some of the tension visibly draining from their faces. "I'm going to learn from this and move forward. I hope you all know how much I appreciate the work you all do for my benefit. This is just a bump in the road to better things. I'm so sorry, again. But, I'll see you all in Austria, cheers."

Her words were met with a round of nods and murmurs of understanding. The mechanics, engineers, and strategists were a tight-knit group, and she knew they had her back. But she also knew that she had let them down, and she wasn't about to let it happen again.

Michaela walked over to her car, the wreckage of her McLaren a stark contrast to the gleaming machines around her. The car looked defeated, a shell of its former glory, but she saw the potential beneath the bruises. She ran her hand along the carbon fiber body, feeling the coolness of the metal, the scent of failure still lingering in the air.

"We'll get it fixed," a voice said from behind her. She turned to see her chief mechanic, David, his eyes filled with determination. "We'll be back stronger in Spielberg."

Michaela managed a smile, appreciating the support. "Thanks, David." She knew the team would work tirelessly to rebuild the car, but it was the internal damage she wasn't sure could be repaired so easily. The doubt, the fear, the anger—it was all simmering just beneath the surface.

As the team began to disperse, Beata approached her with a gentle look. "You need to be more careful, Michaela," she warned. "The press is already having a field day with this. If you're not happy with McLaren, we can explore options, but you can't let it affect your performance on the track."

Michaela nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "You're right," she said, her voice a whisper. "I just want to get out of here."

Beata nodded sympathetically. "Let's get you out of here," she said, steering her away from the garage and handing her a pair of emergency sunglasses. They walked through the paddock, the buzz of the grandstands a stark contrast to the quiet of the team's area. The fans were already starting to file out, their excited chatter muffled by the distance.

Michaela's mind raced as she put on the sunglasses, trying to compose herself. She knew the moment she stepped out of the garage, the media would be waiting, eager for a glimpse of the troubled driver. The cool breeze outside did little to ease the heat of the day or the pressure in her chest.

"Michaela, are you okay?" a journalist called out as they passed by the media pen. She ignored the question, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Beata shot her a warning look, but she knew better than to engage.

The car ride to the airport was silent, both of them lost in their thoughts. The tension in the air was thick, and she could feel the unspoken words weighing down on her. As they pulled up to the rented jet, the reality of her situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She was living the dream, but at what cost?

Michaela took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, her eyes scanning the tarmac for any signs of paparazzi. The last thing she needed was another scene. She climbed the stairs to the jet, her legs feeling like jelly. Once inside, she collapsed into her seat, the plush leather a stark contrast to the hard plastic chair she had been in just minutes ago.

The flight to Austria was a blur of recaps and strategy sessions, the team trying to dissect where it had gone wrong. Each time someone talked about the pit stop or the crash, she felt a stab of pain in her chest. Her mind kept replaying the moment she lost control, the feeling of the car spinning out, the sickening crunch as it hit the barrier. It was a reminder that no matter how much she pushed herself, how much she wanted it, there were factors beyond her control.

Michaela sat in the back, her headphones on but the music muted. Instead, she listened to the hum of the engines, a constant reminder of the beast she would soon be taming again. She knew she had to channel her anger into something positive, to use it to fuel her drive in the upcoming race next weekend. But it was easier said than done.

The team's debrief was thorough, leaving no stone unturned. Each member took responsibility for their part in the weekend's disaster, but it was clear that the tension between her and the team was palpable. Guido, her manager, sat quietly in the corner, listening intently to every word. He knew that her heart was in the right place, but the public's perception was a different beast to tame.

#⠀،،⠀&. prose.#yuki tsunoda x oc #jenson button x oc #f1 fiction #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 female driver #driver!reader #f1 drivers #f1 driver!reader

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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gotta be you ! lance s. x ofc (socialite! kpop idol!ofc)

“내 사랑은 너로 시작해 너로 끝나”

(my love starts with you and ends with you.)

summary: they all said not to fall in love with the kid that you married back when you were five, and clearly neither of them got the memo. OR everyone thought that bora mckinnon and lance stroll acted as though the tracks were a rich people’s playground for skirting around their breakup too much, but gossip columns got a hold of their situation regardless of how tightlipped they are about it.

content warning: exes to lovers trope, brief backstory included, lalisa manoban plays the role of ofc polly berkshire, social media + news articles included, fans think that they should steal photocards from lance, mentions of nicholas latifi (best friend), logan sargeant + alex albon content, brief mention of ofc x logan sargeant, use of explicit language, reference to 2ne1's song gotta be you

note: i wanted to use sandara park as a face claim but she and lance honestly don't have the same vibes :( so jisoo it is!

masterlist

THE FAST LANE DAILY

BORA MCKINNON MAKES SURPRISE APPEARANCE AT FORMULA ONE FRENCH GP, SPARKS SPECULATION OF REKINDLED ROMANCE WITH LANCE STROLL

in a surprising turn of events, bora mckinnon, the talented member of the globally renowned k-pop group blackpink and future executive of mckinnon enterprises, made a highly anticipated appearance at the formula one french grand prix. the 23-year-old, who had been absent from social media for over a year, attended the prestigious event as a guest of williams racing, raising eyebrows and fueling speculation about her personal life.

bora, the only child of english-korean billionaires kyung-won and yun-seo mckinnon, arrived at the circuit paul ricard in le castellet, france, stunning fans and media alike. her sudden reappearance comes after a prolonged absence from the public eye, leaving many curious about her whereabouts and activities during her social media hiatus.

the reason behind bora's choice to attend the french gp as williams racing's guest, rather than aston martin's, has piqued the interest of fans and formula one enthusiasts. it has been revealed that her former flame, lance stroll, who drives for aston martin, ended their relationship midway through the 2022 season. this breakup, alongside her parents' investment on the junior driving team, seemingly influenced bora's decision to align herself with williams racing, where she immediately struck up a friendship with their new driver, logan sargeant.

the unexpected bond between bora and logan sargeant has caught the attention of fans and media, particularly due to the fact that he replaced bora's best friend, nicholas latifi, on the williams racing team. the duo was seen engaging in friendly conversations and mingling with the same group of people in the paddock, leading to speculation about a potential romantic reconciliation between bora and lance stroll.

as rumors swirl around the former couple, fans are eagerly awaiting any signs of a rekindled romance. observers have noted that bora and lance stroll appeared comfortable in each other's presence, sparking hopes that they may be on the path to reconciliation. however, both parties have remained tight-lipped about their current relationship status, leaving fans to speculate and draw their own conclusions.

bora mckinnon's surprise appearance at the formula one french gp has undoubtedly added an extra layer of excitement to the event. as the blackpink star continues to enjoy her time as williams racing's guest, fans and media will be closely watching for any further developments in her personal life, particularly regarding her relationship with lance stroll.

tagged logansargeant, alex_albon, williamsracing

liked by nicholaslatifi, charles_leclerc, felipedrugovich

user1 LMAO FAVOURITE MURRICAN 😭

nicholaslatifi come back to london first 🙄🤚 liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon no u :(

nicholaslatifi i've already seen you last canada day when you dragged me to a parade i hadn't even wanted to watch 🤬

boamckinnon don't be a loser you loved getting those free comics

user2 i love that she already made friends with logan even if latifi isn't there anymore

boamckinnon he's my replacement latifi ❤️‍🩹 jk i've known him since he was in f2- a mere child he was.

user2 she's really out here feeding off my delulu 😩

oscarpiastri oh so you hung out with the murrican but not with your favourite australian? smh liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon don't be silly oscar. of course i went to the alpha tauri to see danielricciardo 🥰

user3 LMFAOJSPODHIP I LOVE HER SO MUCH

user4 oscarpiastri rn: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏 yeah👍 mama🤰say it’s my👧😣fault🥺😢 my fault😭😞 i wear my heart💝 on my sleeve👕

pollytaraberk shoot me last photo's @ pls 🤩

alex_albon oh hey 🙂😊

pollytaraberk oh hey :))

alex_albon wyd??? 😁

williamsracing too many rizz of arizzander albono 😍

boamckinnon throwing up rn 🤢

alex_albon "favourite murican and alex" ???? 😭 i took your photos liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon i can't say favourite thai, polly might kill me 😥

pollytaraberk let that be a warning boamckinnon

alex_albon hi pollytaraberk 👋

pollytaraberk hello alex_albon 💋👋

user5 ALBONO PLS NOT IN BOA'S COMMENT SECTION

logansargeant i'm your only american friend liked by boamckinnon

boamckinnon and there's a reason why sarge 🤩

user6 that's her saying you're from florida

tagged boamckinnon

liked by lance_stroll, pierregasly, logansargeant

boamckinnon i got you some cd in exchange 💔 liked by alex_albon

alex_albon and you didn't need to bc have you seen how expensive that was? 🥲

boamckinnon meh it's a compensation for not being there for A YEAR 💗

logansargeant when she's wearing blue 💙

boamckinnon thx bestie! next time i'll wear the whole flag for you 🤩

logansargeant you have to stop with the usa jokes 😒

williamsracing bora in our area 💙 liked by alex_albon

user1 you probably would've gotten paid more anyway 😭 liked by alex_albon

user2 LMFAO ALEX 😩

nicholaslatifi how's it like replacing me for the job 😇 liked by alex_albon

alex_albon you can have it back. i had to take one too many photos of her

nicholaslatifi she doesn't tell you what your job entails until you're doing it soooo 🙂

user3 what is lance strulovitch doing in this post??? 🤨

user4 lancestroll don't be shy make a comment too

user5 what's he doing 😭

user6 he's somewhere in the paddock rn reminding himself how bad he fumbled as he looks through her photos 😁

user7 lesson learned: don't break up with your girlfriend of six years if you don't wanna see her glow like that w/o you

user8 idk why he'd choose that influencer over her, his literal friend for YEARS like bestie 😭

user9 no fr tho 😥 he and that influencer didn't even last four months

user10 lance and bora were literally magazine cover-level of couple 😭😭 i just want them back together

user11 the way i felt this ^^

THE FAST LANE DAILY

(MCKINNON'S BIRTHDAY THREE DAY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION FROM TOP TO BOTTOM: BALI, INDONESIA, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA AND LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. PHOTOS FROM INSTAGRAM: LANDO.JPG, POLLYTARABERK AND PIERREGASLY)

BORA MCKINNON'S STAR-STUDDED 24TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS: LANCE STROLL STEALS THE SPOTLIGHT

bora mckinnon, the charismatic blackpink member and social media sensation, recently celebrated her 24th birthday in true style. the week-long extravaganza saw the k-pop star hosting three extravagant parties, each one more glamorous than the last. however, it was the unexpected presence of formula one driver lance stroll that set tongues wagging and stole the spotlight at the star-studded events.

the first party, held at a luxurious beachfront villa in bali, indonesia, set the tone for bora's birthday celebrations. surrounded by her blackpink bandmates and close friends, the star enjoyed a night of laughter, music, and delectable cuisine. however, it was the arrival of lance stroll, the aston martin driver and bora's former flame, that sent fans and media into a frenzy. the unexpected reunion between the two sparked speculation about a potential rekindling of their romance.

as the birthday festivities continued, bora's second party in seoul, south korea, showcased her love for fashion and glamour. the event attracted a star-studded guest list, including fellow formula one drivers who were eager to join in the celebrations. lance stroll, looking dapper in a tailored suit, mingled effortlessly with the crowd, drawing attention from fans and media alike. the chemistry between bora and lance was palpable, leaving many wondering if their relationship was back on track.

the grand finale of bora's birthday week took place at an exclusive rooftop venue in los angeles, california. the party was a sight to behold, with a-list celebrities, renowned musicians, and, of course, the formula one fraternity in attendance. lance stroll's presence at the event caused a stir among fans and media, who closely observed their interactions throughout the night. the duo was seen engaged in deep conversations, sharing laughter, and even stealing a few intimate moments, fueling rumors of a romantic reconciliation.

while bora and lance have remained tight-lipped about the status of their relationship, their appearances together at all three parties have left fans buzzing with excitement. the attention garnered by lance's attendance has only added to the intrigue surrounding their connection. as fans eagerly await further updates, one thing is certain: bora mckinnon's 24th birthday celebrations will be remembered as a star-studded affair, with lance stroll's presence adding an unexpected twist to the festivities.

as the gossip columns continue to speculate about the nature of their relationship, fans and media will be keeping a close eye on bora and lance, eagerly awaiting any hints or confirmations about their romantic reunion. only time will tell if their love story will once again take center stage, captivating the hearts of fans worldwide.

lance_stroll posted a story!!!

boamckinnon posted a story !!!

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nophunleague · 6 months ago

Text

stare decisis: chapter five - amica

amica: latin for friend

masterlist

wc: 1142

rafael barba x original female character

Quinn holds a hand over her mouth as the squad watches the vile poor excuses for audition tapes recorded by Brubeck that had been turned over by his attorney.

“This is horrendous,” Carisi says as Barba stops the most recent tape in their viewing session. “But it’s all legal, every movie he’s shot since Forbes died was in a state with a low age of consent plus a mistake of age defense,” the steam is virtually blowing out of everyone’s ears, frustrated with the unbelievably smart pedophile.

Barba and Quinn have both removed their blazers, Quinn was surprised to learn that he’s a suspenders man. Quinn chose a button down and pencil skirt combo for the day, the first two or three buttons of the top remaining unbuttoned so it didn’t choke her.

“He’s methodical,” Barba flips through the DVD booklet, every DVD is labeled with the actress’s name, date of birth, and the state it was filmed in. That is until he reaches the last one, his finger rests on it as the gears in his mind turn quickly. Quinn, who had been sitting next to him, cranes her neck to be able to read the writing on the DVD.

“Winnipeg,” they say simultaneously, glancing at each other then to Liv.

“Did he ever make a movie in Winnipeg?” she asks the squad, Carisi responds that no, he never did. Amaro and Rollins are suddenly racing out to hitch a plane ride to Canada which leaves a confused Carisi.

“Winnipeg isn’t in our jurisdiction?” he asks, and as Rafael is winding up to make a comment on the young detective’s lack of legal knowledge Quinn swoops in.

“Barba, save him the torment, he would have to take a class on international law for him to even know the statute we’re talking about,” Quinn stands and pats Sonny on the back, she explains, “traveling to another country for the sole purpose of having intercourse with a minor is a federal crime.”

Once Liv and Sonny have left the office Rafael and Quinn return to their respective offices, working on finding everything they can about this movie that was supposed to be filmed in Canada. She’s just finished typing a subpoena for the Writers’ Guild requesting the script for the Winnipeg movie. She leaves her desk and ventures to Rafael’s office. His head is down, well until she throws the document down on his desk.

“Can I help you?” he huffs.

“My subpoena for the Writers’ Guild. Proof read it before I file it? I’ll do yours,” she offers. Of all the things she’s faced in life, a typo in a court document is one of the most harrowing things to experience. He looks to the document, then to her, then to the document again.

“You’ve already finished your subpoena?” she nods.

“And I called a friend that I have at DOJ, she’ll be here in an hour. Figured we could loop them in, since it’ll be their charges,” again, eyes to the file, to her, then to the file.

“You’ve done all of that in,” he checks the rather large watch on his wrist, “an hour?” She moves forward, placing her hands on the edge of his desk, leaning on it.

“Asked and answered counselor. And I would have gotten more done if you had already finished your subpoena,” she kisses her teeth and pushes herself back off of the desk. “I’ll see you in an hour, it’s my friend, so in my office,” he watches her walk away and calls after her.

“That wasn’t asked and answered, it was two separate, distinct questions!”

***

“Hi there, I was paged here by some big shot ADA.” a woman’s authoritative voice permeates through the closed doors of both Quinn and Rafael’s office’s. Rafael doesn't recognize the voice, but Quinn does. She's instantly sticking her head outside of her door.

“Sahar al-Kazmi, look what the cat dragged in,” she crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the doorframe. They’re both beaming as soon as they make eye contact but they stay unmoving.

“That would make you the cat would it not?” Quinn shrugs.

“I’ve been called worse,” she looks up as if she were exploring the filing cabinets of her mind. “Like bitch.”

The pair laugh then finally hug, it’s been seven or so years since they worked together. Rafael finally peaks out of his office.

“Is this your pain in the ass co-counsel,” Sahar stares him down as she asks. Quinn wouldn’t believe it save for the fact that she saw it, Rafael actually shrunk back into his clothing.

“Agent Sahar al-Kazmi, this is ADA Rafael Barba. Barba this is Sahar, she’s with the FBI,” they shake hands, share polite greetings. “Let’s move this to my office.” Quinn sits at her desk, Rafael leans against it next to her both watching Sahar as she inventories the contents of the office, Quinn’s eyes follow her closely.

“So you guys used to work together?” Rafael breaks the momentary silence, Sahar’s head snaps toward him.

“We did, about 7 years ago. It was a different world then,” she looks to Quinn who has started pulling files out to show her.

“So, we’ve got this teeny-bopper movie producer who is methodical in making sure he can exploit underage girls legally. But - and our squad is working on digging up more on this - he traveled to Winnipeg a few years ago to audition an underage girl for a new movie. But the movie was never made,” Quinn explains, showing Sahar corresponding documents as she goes.

“So you guys are thinking sexual tourism,” Sahar concludes, looking to Quinn then to Barba who nods. Sahar teeters her head back and forth in thought then speaks again, “I think you guys have a compelling case, let me take all of this and we’ll pick him up as soon as we can,” Barba is immediately shaking his head.

“You unfortunately don’t know our squad, they want to be the ones to collar this guy,” he explains with his hands, probably already being able to hear Olivia’s disdain in his head.

“I don’t know, this really isn’t your guys' jurisdiction,” Sahar starts to say before Quinn begs Sahar.

“Please Sahar, let them get him. I’ll call you as soon as we have him in custody,” Rafael watches as Quinn’s typically hardened exterior fractures just a little bit so that she can beg her friend. Sahar groans but agrees, the lawyers both thank her graciously and Rafael rushes off to call Liv with an update, leaving Quinn and Sahar alone.

Sahar takes the time to again inventory the office, it’s largely devoid of Quinn’s personal touch.

“Nothing from the Sandpit?” she asks.

“Like you said, it was a different world back then. It was another life that I don’t like reliving.”

#svu #law and order svu #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #amanda rollins #fin tutuola #nick amaro #olivia benson #original character #sonny carisi

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