#f1 driver!rafe cameron x fem!reader

[rafecameronssl4t]

F1 driver!Rafe x Reader! As someone that loves watching F1, I'm so happy you're doing this, and damn fans can be vicious sometimes so it gave me an idea. Maybe Reader is getting hate online, with jelaousy comments, saying that ''she's not pretty enough, she's so basic looking, I don't understand what he sees in her, I guess anyone has a chance with Rafe,''. And gradually the words get to her, making her really self concious when she's around him in public, girls near him that are (in her opinion) prettier and eventuallys she tries to break up with him, but he does not let her (not in a toxic way, more so because he loves her and isn't going to let anyone come between them)

Public eye || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: So sorry this took awhile!!!!!! But thank you for the request it was sm fun to write :)

Warnings: angst, mental health struggles, bullying and online harassment, if theres anything else lmk!

Word count: 2, 946

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x fem!reader au masterlist)

Your fingers hovered hesitantly over the comment section of the video, your heart beating just a little faster as you stared at the screen. The clip, a simple moment of you and Rafe walking into the paddock, was already gathering attention. He was beside you, his hand casually draped over your shoulder as you both made your way through the crowd, looking every bit like a power couple.

You could still hear the soft hiss of the shower jets from the bathroom, Rafe taking his time to wash off the stress of the race. You should have been doing something productive, but the pull of curiosity was too strong. Lately, your presence on social media had been growing—both the praise and the hate.

You’d never been one to look at the comments, always avoiding the spotlight, but today… something felt different. You clicked on the comment section, your thumb hovering nervously over the screen as you scrolled down. The first few comments were harmless, even flattering. “You two are perfect together,” one said. “Her smile is contagious,” said another.

Your lips curved into a faint smile as you read through them, the warmth of their compliments offering a brief comfort. For a moment, you forgot about the nagging feeling building in your chest. But then the tone shifted. You could feel your stomach tighten as the first negative comment appeared. “She looks so out of place with him,” one user wrote, followed by another comment: “She doesn’t belong in paddock.”

Your fingers trembled slightly, but you tried to push the discomfort aside. It was just one comment. You kept scrolling. More criticisms followed. Someone commented on your outfit: “Why does she dress like that? She looks like she’s trying too hard.” Another user posted, “She looks so stiff next to him. Does she even smile?” A sharp sting pierced your chest, and you tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t easy.

You’d spent so much time trying to dress right, trying to look the part, but now it felt like none of it mattered. “Her resting face is so rude,” one person said. Another added, “She looks miserable. Why does she always look so cold around Rafe?” You couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop. You knew you had a more serious expression, but it hurt to see it picked apart like this, as if your face wasn’t enough.

You quickly scrolled past more hurtful comments, but the damage had already been done. The video, which had once seemed like a simple moment between you and Rafe, now felt like an invasion of your privacy, like everyone was judging you. You glanced back at the bathroom door, where the sound of Rafe still hummed softly from the shower, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in your head.

Your hands tightened around your phone, and you felt the familiar weight of insecurities settling in. You weren’t sure why this time felt worse than before. Maybe it was the fact that you were constantly being compared to Rafe’s world now, his fame, his fans, his life in the spotlight. It felt suffocating at times, and the negativity from strangers only made it worse.

You took a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together. This wasn’t about you. It was about Rafe, and his world. You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need their validation, but the ache in your chest remained. Before you could sink any deeper into the spiral of your thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open, and Rafe’s voice, still heavy with the sound of water dripping, called out to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Rafe’s voice was soft as he stepped into the room, the steam from his shower trailing behind him. His towel hung low on his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His brows furrowed slightly when his eyes landed on you, the tension in your posture giving you away. You swallowed hard, quickly flipping your phone face-down on the bed as you forced a small, unconvincing smile.

“Yeah, just… tired. It’s been a long day.” Rafe didn’t seem entirely convinced. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he were debating whether to push further. Instead, he let it slide, disappearing into the closet to grab a pair of boxers. When he returned, his tone was casual, though there was an edge of curiosity in his voice.

“Did you want to walk in with me tomorrow?” he asked, tossing the towel into the hamper before slipping on boxers. He moved with practiced ease, his body language as relaxed as ever. It was a question you’d heard countless times before, something routine between the two of you, but tonight, it felt heavier. Different. You nibbled on your bottom lip, his question tugging you back to the comments you’d just read.

She looks out of place next to him… She doesn’t belong there. The words replayed in your head like a taunting echo. You hesitated before replying, your voice quieter than usual. Your fingers toyed with the edge of the duvet as you hesitated. “Uh, I think I’ll come a bit after,” you said finally, trying to sound casual, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Rafe paused for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he considered your answer.

His brows furrowed just enough to show that he noticed the shift in your tone, but he didn’t push. Instead, he hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he climbed into bed. Once settled, he turned his attention back to you, his head propped on his hand as he studied your face. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

You nodded quickly, your smile brighter this time, though it still didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. I promise, I’m fine,” you said, hoping the words sounded convincing. But even as you said them, your mind was still swirling with doubt, the insecurities clawing at the edges of your composure. Rafe didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it slide for now. Instead, he reached out and tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your body in a warm, familiar embrace.

His lips brushed softly against your temple before trailing down to your shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, like an anchor. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you nestled into his chest, the comfort of his presence momentarily dulling the ache in your heart. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice almost trembling.

~

Walking into the paddock alongside Rafe’s PR manager, Mia, you couldn’t shake the weight of countless eyes on you. It felt suffocating, as though everyone’s gaze was dissecting your every move, every expression. The hum of chatter and camera shutters blended into an almost deafening background noise, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were saying—or thinking.

Were they silently judging you? Waiting for you to stumble, to make some minor misstep they could pounce on? The thought sent a sharp pang of anxiety through your chest. It wasn’t just paranoia; you’d seen how quickly narratives could form online, how a single bad photo could spiral into accusations and labels. If you weren’t smiling enough, they’d say you were cold, ungrateful. If you stood too close to Rafe, they’d call you clingy. Too far, and you’d seem distant, uninterested.

Your grip on your paddock pass tightened, glancing briefly at Mia, who was confidently walking ahead, her phone in hand, seemingly oblivious to the tension building inside you. She had a way of carrying herself that made it seem like none of this affected her—like the noise bounced off her shield of professionalism. You envied her for that. The click of a camera somewhere to your left made your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t dare look, afraid of what expression might’ve been caught. You straightened your posture instead, forcing a faint smile that felt unnatural, plastered on for the sake of appearances. The effort felt exhausting, but it was what you’d learned to do in this world—pretend you didn’t notice, pretend it didn’t hurt. As you walked, you could feel whispers trailing in your wake, the murmurs mingling with the mechanical hum of the paddock.

Were they talking about your outfit? Your hair? The fact that you weren't walking in with Rafe? It was a never-ending game of scrutiny, and you felt like a chess piece on a board you barely understood. "Hey, are you good?" Mia's voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Her tone was light, accompanied by a small chuckle as she caught the distant look in your eyes.

You blinked rapidly, turning to her with a startled expression. “Sorry, what?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky. She chuckled again, tilting her head curiously. “Are you okay? You seem nervous,” she repeated, her eyes scanning your face as the two of you approached the Ferrari area. “Yeah! Yeah—I’m fine, just jet lagged,” you replied quickly, your tone a little too chipper to be convincing. You added a casual shrug for good measure, hoping it would sell the lie.

Mia’s gaze lingered for a moment, but she slowly nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright, if you say so. I’ve got to go organise Rafe for his interview. Will you be okay by yourself? I think Austin’s around here somewhere,” she said, glancing around the bustling paddock. “Yeah, of course, go ahead. I’ll look for him,” you assured her with a polite smile.

She nodded, giving you a quick wave before disappearing into the chaos, leaving you alone amidst the buzz of mechanics, media personnel, and fans. You continued walking, your eyes darting around in search of a familiar face. The usual hum of the paddock felt louder now, almost oppressive, as you noticed more phones and cameras turning in your direction. A knot tightened in your stomach.

Normally, you could brush it off, but today the weight of their stares was unbearable. Biting your bottom lip nervously, you quickened your pace, practically darting into the safety of the Ferrari garage. The moment you stepped inside, a voice called out to you, making you pause. “Y/n!” Relief flooded your chest as you spotted Austin waving you over from the balcony of the hospitality area.

“Hey!” you greeted him warmly, embracing him in a quick hug. “Rafe should be done with his interview pretty soon,” Austin said, glancing at his watch. You hummed in response, setting your things down on the table before joining him at the railing. The two of you leaned against it, looking down at the sea of people navigating the paddock below. “Yeah, Rafe and I were planning to head back to OBX for a week after—”

Your words trailed off as your eyes froze on a group of girls huddled together, their phones unmistakably aimed in your direction. Their whispering and laughter sent a chill through you, making your shoulders stiffen visibly. Noticing your silence, Austin followed your gaze. His brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but probing.

You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away from the girls. “I-uh—I’ll just sit down for a bit,” you muttered, moving back toward the table. Austin watched you carefully, his confusion evident. “Do you know them?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. After a moment, he sighed, his tone shifting to something more knowing. “Have you been reading comments again?”

The question made your head snap up, your eyes meeting his. You didn’t respond, but your silence was enough. “Y/n,” he said gently, pulling out a chair across from you and sitting down. “You know those are just jealous people who wish they were in your position, right?” “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But they still hurt, Austin.”

“I know they do,” he admitted, leaning forward. “But think about it—what they’re saying about you… Is any of it true?” You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to your phone as you hesitated. “They’re not,” Austin continued firmly. “Because they don’t even know you. But we do. Rafe does. Don’t let them get to you. They’re just miserable people trying to make someone else miserable too.”

His words sunk in, easing some of the tightness in your chest. A small smile crept onto your lips, the warmth of his reassurance breaking through the cloud of doubt. “Thanks, Austin. I really appreciate it,” you said, your voice softer now but filled with genuine gratitude. He grinned back, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence.

“Anytime. Now, let’s get you smiling again before Rafe gets back, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.” You chuckled lightly, feeling just a little lighter as the weight of those comments began to fade, replaced by the comfort of a friend who truly understood.

~

The jets in the bathroom continued to hum, the sound blending into the background as you stared at your phone screen, your chest tightening with every cruel word you read. The image of you and Rafe walking into the paddock, so innocuous and routine, had somehow become the catalyst for a torrent of negativity.

Your throat constricted, and you bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. But it was too much. The weight of their words pressed on you, an avalanche of insecurities crashing down. You dropped your phone onto the bed as though it had burned you, standing there frozen for a moment, your hands trembling.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Rafe stepped out, a towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His carefree, post-shower demeanour faltered the moment his eyes landed on you. “Hey,” he said cautiously, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” You shook your head, quickly wiping at your cheeks, but the tears had already betrayed you. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His tone was firmer now, his blue eyes scanning your face for answers. He glanced at your phone lying facedown on the bed, and his expression hardened as he pieced it together. “Did you read the comments again?” The lump in your throat grew, and you couldn’t speak, your silence confirming his suspicion.

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Y/n, why do you let them get to you? They’re just a bunch of—” “It’s not just them, Rafe!” you snapped, cutting him off. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharp and heavy. “This is my life now—being constantly judged, criticised, compared. It’s exhausting. I can’t do this anymore.”

His brows furrowed in confusion and alarm. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I can’t be with you anymore,” you said, your voice breaking as the words left your lips. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Rafe’s face fell, his confident façade cracking in an instant. “What? No. No, that’s not happening.” “Rafe—”

“No!” He stepped closer, his voice low but desperate. “You’re not doing this because of a bunch of idiots online who don’t know anything about us.” “It’s not just them!” you cried, the dam of emotions finally breaking. “It’s everything! The constant attention, the pressure, the way people look at me like I’m not good enough for you. And maybe they’re right! Maybe I’m not!”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he interrupted, his voice rough with emotion. He reached for your hands, holding them tightly even as you tried to pull away. “You are good enough. You’re more than good enough, Y/n.” “I can’t keep living like this, Rafe,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I feel like I’m losing myself.

Rafe’s grip on your hands tightened as if letting go would make your words true. “I don’t care what they say. None of it matters to me. You matter. You’re the only thing that matters.” Your lips trembled as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity there almost too much to bear. “But what if I can’t handle it?” “Then I’ll help you handle it,” he said firmly, his voice softening as he pulled you closer.

“You’re not doing this alone. I love you, Y/n. I don’t care what those people think. They mean nothing to me—nothing.” You let out a shaky breath as his words washed over you, your resolve weakening under the weight of his conviction. Rafe cupped your face gently, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “We’ll get through it together. I promise.”

For a long moment, you just stood there, your forehead resting against his as you tried to steady your breathing. The pain was still there, raw and jagged, but so was the love in his voice, in his touch. “I don’t know if I can be enough,” you whispered. “You already are,” he replied without hesitation. “You’ve always been enough for me.” And somehow, in his arms, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter.

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ not so cocky

F1!driver!rafe cameron x FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: +4.9k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: i couldn't help myself and made him drive for ferrari since thats the team i support :P

it’s a tuesday afternoon, and you’re in your pajamas—baggy sweats and an oversized t-shirt you probably shouldn’t still own. you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket cocooned around you as some random show plays in the background. the ice cream in your lap is half-melted, but you don’t care.

then the knock comes. a sharp sound that instantly makes you groan.

you don’t move at first, hoping whoever it is will just go away, but then your phone buzzes: “we know you’re home. open the door.”

you shuffle to the door and open it, blinking into the daylight like a mole emerging from its hole. standing there, arms crossed and looking unimpressed, are your two best friends.

“it’s literally two p.m.,” abby says, squinting past you into your dimly lit apartment.

“yeah? so?” you reply, scratching your head. “it’s only two p.m.”

“on a tuesday.”

you shrug. “time’s a social construct.”

they both push past you into the apartment, already on a mission. jen opens the blinds, flooding your space with light, while abby heads straight to the kitchen. “when’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t ice cream?”

“last night?” you lie.

“we’re ordering pizza,” jen announces. “and don’t even think about arguing.”

you don’t argue. honestly, it’s kind of nice having them here. soon enough, the pizza arrives, and the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills your apartment. they bring out sodas, too, and one of them starts rifling through your collection of formula one merch—t-shirts, mugs, even the throw pillow you bought on a whim last year.

“okay, since you’re clearly still in your pity era,” abby says, rolling her eyes dramatically

“never say that again,” jen gapes at her.

abby rolled her eyes at her, “anyway, we’re doing a mid-week f1 sleepover. you’re not getting rid of us.”

you don’t even try to fight it. this has become a weekly-ish ritual at this point—your friends invading your space, throwing on a highlight reel from last weekend’s race, and forcing you to laugh at their awful commentary. by the time the sun sets, the couch is littered with pizza crusts and soda cans, and for the first time in days, you feel something close to normal.

the three of you are sprawled across your living room, pizza boxes open on the coffee table, the tv blaring the sound of engines as the formula one race unfolds. abby is clutching a throw pillow like it’s a steering wheel, yelling at the screen.

“i’m telling you, charles is going to take it this time!” abby declares, pointing wildly at the screen as charles leclerc manoeuvres through the track.

“please,” jen scoffs, leaning back with a slice of pizza. “verstappen has this in the bag, like always. he’s unstoppable.”

“unstoppable until he gets cocky and screws up his pit stop,” abby fires back.

you chuckle, keeping your eyes on the screen. “you two have had this exact argument every single week. neither of you is changing your mind.”

“because she’s wrong,” jen says, pointing at abby with a pizza piece.

“and she’s delusional,” abby fires back, throwing a pillow.

“oh my gosh, both of you, can we just watch without fighting?” you groan, though there’s a faint smile tugging at your lips. this bickering is as much a part of your race nights as the pizza.

jen smirks, not missing a beat. “oh, and you’re one to talk? we all know you’re obsessed with rafe cameron.”

you nearly choke on your drink. “i am not.”

“you literally blush every time his name comes up,” abby teases, nudging your shoulder.

“do not,” you mutter, sinking lower into the couch.

jen sits up suddenly, her face lighting up with an idea. “wait, speaking of him—did you guys hear about that competition? the one where you can win a seat next to him for a day? he drives you around in his race car, and it’s for charity or something.”

“stop.” you wave her off, your voice flat. “just stop.”

“no, seriously!” jen presses, pulling her phone out to look it up. “it’s legit. they posted it on the f1 page. all you have to do is enter, and they pick a winner. imagine sitting next to rafe cameron while he drives at, like, two hundred miles an hour!”

“jennifer, no,” you say, glaring at her. “that’s insane. why would anyone want to do that?”

“why wouldn’t you?” abby jumps in, grinning. “you get to sit in a race car, with rafe cameron. i mean, if i could, i’d already be entering.”

“don’t lie, you’d only go if it was charles doing it,” jen shook her head.

“you guys are ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head. “as if we’d actually made a chance.”

“besides” she says innocently. “i’m just saying. you love formula one, and you obviously love rafe. i’ve seen the way you look at the screen when he’s on.”

you groan, tossing a pillow in her direction. “shut up.”

“yeah,” abby chimes in, smirking. “all heart-eyes and ‘oh, rafe is such a good driver.’”

you scoff, though your face is heating up. “i don’t sound like that.”

“you do,” they say in unison, and you hate how much they’re enjoying this.

it’s friday morning when jen and abby show up at your door, both of them practically vibrating with excitement.

“open up!” jen yells, banging on the door.

you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and to the door, still in your pajamas. when you open it, jen is already halfway inside, holding up a bright pink duffel bag. abby’s standing behind her, an equally mischievous grin on her face.

“get dressed,” jen says, brushing past you into your living room. her dark curls are pulled back into a curly bun, and she’s rocking a pastel tracksuit that looks effortless on her. “we’re going out.”

“and not to the grocery store,” abby adds, following closely behind. her straight, glossy black hair is tied in a high ponytail. “but, maybe we should, just in case.”

“what is going on?” you mumble, yawning.

“spa day!” jen announces, setting the duffel down on your couch. “and before you say anything, no, you don’t get a choice.”

“why?” you ask, blinking at them. “i’m good here. i don’t need to go out.”

jen sets her bag down with a dramatic gesture. “girl, no. you’ve been ‘good here’ for three months, and we’re not letting you wallow anymore.”

“we’re going all out,” abby adds, stepping inside. her sleek ponytail swings as she gestures toward the bag. “nails, hair, brows, lashes—everything.”

you blink at them. “why do i need a spa day?”

“because you need to get ready for spa weekend,” jen says, emphasizing the word with a grin.

you stare at her blankly. “what are you talking about?”

abby rolls her eyes and flops onto your couch, crossing her legs. “the belgian grand prix. at spa-francorchamps. your favorite track. we’re going.”

your jaw drops. “you’re kidding.”

“we are not,” jen says, pulling out her phone and waving the email confirmation in your face. “two nights in a cute little airbnb, paddock passes for the race, and the works.”

“we saved for this forever,” abby says. “and let’s be honest, you need this.”

“and you just… decided to surprise me?” you ask, trying to keep calm and collected whilst wrapping your head around the idea of going to a fomula 1 race.

jen smirks. “well, we didn’t think you’d agree if we told you ahead of time. and now, you can’t back out.”

“besides,” abby adds, “you’ve been talking about spa for years. ‘oh, it’s so historic, it’s the best track, the corners are iconic.’ you’re gonna lose your mind when we’re there.”

you can feel your heart racing, the excitement bubbling under your skin despite yourself. you’ve dreamed of going to spa-francorchamps for as long as you can remember.

“so,” jen says, crossing her arms. “are you coming, or are you gonna sit here in your sad little cocoon and regret it forever?”

“obviously i’m coming,” you squeal with delight, a big grin painting your face.

“great,” abby says, hopping up and clapping her hands together. “then let’s get you race-weekend ready.”

the drive to spa-francorchamps is electric. you, jen, and abby are packed into a rental car, your bags crammed into the trunk, the radio blasting a mix of pop music and sing-along songs. every few minutes, one of you squeals about something—whether it’s the scenery, the fact that you’re actually going to spa, or the vip paddock passes tucked safely in jen’s bag.

“can you believe this?” you ask, practically bouncing in your seat. “we’re going to spa. i mean, eau rouge, blanchimont, la source—it’s iconic.”

“we know,” abby says with a grin. “you’ve been talking about it nonstop since we booked this trip.”

“you’re gonna cry when you see it,” jen teases from the driver’s seat. “i swear, you’re worse than those drivers who kiss the track.”

you laugh, but deep down, you know she’s right.

the airbnb is a cozy, modern expensive cottage just outside the circuit. the three of you walk in, and you’re immediately blown away. sleek wood paneling, a spacious living area, and a kitchen stocked with snacks and, most importantly, champagne.

“this is perfect,” abby says, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes. “i feel like a celebrity already.”

jen pops open a bottle of champagne while you and abby explore the place, claiming bedrooms and marveling at the view of the surrounding hills. by the time you all settle in the living room, glasses in hand, the excitement is palpable.

“to spa,” jen says, raising her glass.

“to the best trip ever,” abby adds.

“to eau rouge,” you say with a grin.

you all clink glasses and take a sip, the bubbles fizzing on your tongue. for the first time in months, you feel light. happy. like yourself again.

“okay, okay,” jen says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “before we get too tipsy, there’s one more thing we need to do.”

“what now?” you ask, sinking into the couch.

jen exchanges a look with abby, who’s barely containing her grin.

“we have a surprise,” abby says, pulling her laptop out of her bag. she opens it up and types something in while you watch, confused.

“guys,” you say. “what’s going on?”

jen leans over and taps a key, turning the screen toward you. “read this.”

you blink at the email in front of you. the subject line reads: “Congratulations! You’ve won the Scuderia Ferrari F1 Experience!”

“what is this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“it’s that competition we entered,” jen says, smirking. “you know, the one to sit beside rafe cameron while he drives you around in his f1 car? yeah, you won.”

your jaw drops. “you’re joking.”

“nope,” abby says, grinning. “you’re meeting him. this weekend. in spa. we didn’t tell you earlier because we knew you’d freak out.”

“i’m already freaking out!” you yell, scrambling to reread the email. “how—when—why didn’t you text me?”

jen laughs, sipping her champagne. “because this reaction is way better in person.”

“plus, we knew you’d try to back out,” abby says. “and there’s no way we’re letting that happen.”

you stare at the email, your heart pounding. rafe cameron. the golden boy of formula one. the guy whose posters are still taped to your bedroom wall. the one you’ve lowkey crushed on for years. and now, you’re going to meet him.

“oh my gosh,” you whisper, looking up at them. “what am i supposed to say to him? what am i supposed to wear?”

“don’t worry,” jen says, smirking. “we’ve got you covered. now drink your champagne and start practicing your ‘hi, i’m not a complete disaster’ speech.”

abby laughs. “yeah, maybe skip the part where you cried during the monza race last year.”

“shut up!” you say, throwing a pillow at her, but you can’t stop the grin spreading across your face. because for the first time in forever, you’re genuinely, wildly excited.

monday morning feels surreal. the entire weekend at spa-francorchamps had been a dream—a whirlwind of roaring engines, flashing cameras, and the electric buzz of formula one. the race had been the highlight: the screams of the crowd as rafe crossed the line in p3, a hard-fought podium for scuderia ferrari. you’d cheered so loud you thought you might lose your voice, jumping up and down with jen and abby as the tifosi flags waved around you.

now, the reality of what’s about to happen is hitting you like a freight train. you’re sitting at the little dining table in your airbnb, staring at a perfectly brewed cup of coffee you haven’t touched. the sunlight filters through the windows, but it does nothing to calm the swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“you good?” abby asks, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scrolls through her phone. she’s already dressed for the day, her outfit chic and effortless.

“define ‘good,’” you mumble, tapping your fingers nervously on the table. “because I think I’m having a heart attack.”

jen, who’s been rifling through her makeup bag, snorts. “you’re not having a heart attack. you’re just meeting rafe cameron. no big deal, right?”

“yeah, just the literal guy whose career you’ve followed for years,” abby says, smirking.

“the one you’re constantly defending on twitter,” jen adds with a teasing grin. “you’re basically his unofficial PR rep.”

“you’re both the worst,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your voice. you know they’re right.

abby sets her phone down and walks over to you, resting her hands on your shoulders. “listen, you’ve got this. he’s just a guy. a really, really attractive guy who drives at, like, 200 miles per hour for a living. no pressure.”

“you’re not helping,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

jen laughs, zipping up her makeup bag and tossing it onto the couch. “ignore her. just remember: be cool, don’t fangirl too hard, and for your sake, don’t mention that you cried when he won monza last year.”

“i’m never telling you anything again,” you grumble, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself.

after going to the ferrari hospitality room the three of you waited until—a knock at the door makes you freeze. all three of you exchange a look.

“it’s time,” abby says, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

“go get him, tiger,” jen says, giving you a little shove toward the door.

your heart pounds as you open it, and standing there, in all his post-race glory, is rafe cameron. he’s in a casual scuderia ferrari polo, his signature blond hair slightly tousled, and those piercing blue eyes that seem even more intense in person.

“hi,” you manage to squeak out, which is honestly an achievement considering rafe cameron is standing two feet away from you, looking like he just stepped out of a Ferrari promo shoot.

“hi,” he says again, and the way his voice sounds—low, smooth, a little gravelly—sends your brain spiraling. “i’m rafe… uh, cameron. rafe cameron.”

your heart swells, you were sure your face was heating up. hearing his voice in real life was so much different then in screen. you give him a nod as you replied, “i’m y/n.”

“you ready?”

ready? absolutely not. but you nod anyway, because there’s no way you’re backing out now. “yeah, totally. let’s do this.”

rafe chuckles, his smile growing a little wider, and he gestures toward the bright red Ferrari waiting in the driveway. it’s the sleekest, shiniest car you’ve ever seen, and your heart skips a beat just looking at it.

“after you,” he says, stepping aside to let you pass.

you move toward the car, hyper-aware of every step you take, and slide into the passenger seat. the leather feels buttery-soft beneath you, and the interior smells faintly of something expensive and clean. you fumble with the seatbelt, trying to act casual, but the buckle refuses to click into place.

“uh,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as you wrestle with it. “this is fine. totally fine.”

“need some help?” rafe asks, already leaning over before you can say no.

your breath hitches as he moves closer, his arm brushing against yours. he smells like a mix of cologne and engine oil, and the proximity is almost too much to handle. his fingers brush yours as he takes the buckle, and you swear you forget how to breathe.

“here,” he says softly, sliding the buckle into place with a satisfying click. “got it.”

“thanks,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, his face just inches from yours, his blue eyes catching the light in a way that’s downright distracting.

“no problem,” he says, his gaze lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary before he pulls back. “safety first, right?”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—other than the way your heart is pounding.

“right. safety first,” you echo, trying to sound normal, which is nearly impossible when rafe cameron is looking at you like that.

he starts the car, and the engine roars to life, the sound sending a thrill through you. “ready?” he asks again, glancing at you with a small, knowing smile.

“ready,” you say, gripping the edge of your seat like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

but deep down, you know you’re not ready. not for the car, not for the speed, and definitely not for rafe cameron.

the roar of the engine vibrates through the car as rafe pulls out onto the private track, the red Ferrari handling like a dream under his control. you’re gripping the seat, trying to act chill, but the sheer power of the car is making your heart race. or maybe it’s rafe. hard to say.

“so,” he says, his eyes flicking toward you briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “have you ever been in a car like this before?”

“not even close,” you admit, trying not to sound too breathless.

“figured,” he teases lightly, his smirk deepening. “most people don’t have ‘f1 passenger seat’ on their bucket list. you’re kind of unique that way.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a spark of courage. “unique? is that your way of saying I’m a little weird?”

he laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and it makes you feel oddly triumphant. “no, it’s my way of saying you’ve got good taste. not everyone appreciates what these cars can really do.”

before you can respond, he presses the accelerator, and the car launches forward with a force that presses you back into your seat. a surprised laugh escapes you as the world outside becomes a blur of colors.

“whoa!” you exclaim, gripping the door handle.

“you good?” he asks, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“i think so,” you manage, your voice tinged with nervous laughter. “just wasn’t expecting that.”

“you’ve gotta trust me,” he says, his tone softening a little. “i’ve done this a couple of times before, you know.”

“oh, really? i had no idea,” you say dryly, earning another laugh from him.

he takes the first corner with surgical precision, the car hugging the curve effortlessly. you can’t help but admire how smooth and controlled his movements are, even at this speed.

“you’re good at this,” you say, half-teasing, half-serious.

“thanks,” he says, shooting you a quick grin. “i try.”

he slows down just enough to let you catch your breath before speeding up again. “so,” he starts, his voice casual, “do you have a favorite driver? besides me, of course.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “oh, obviously you’re the best,” you say, playing along. “but charles and lewis are up there too.”

“charles, huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “i should’ve known you’d be a ferrari loyalist.”

“what can i say?” you reply with a shrug. “i love the drama.”

“well, we’ve got plenty of that,” he says with a chuckle. “but if i ever see you in a lewis hat, it’s over.”

you laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “noted. no lewis merch around you.”

he takes another corner, and you feel the g-force push you sideways. he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, clearly amused by your reaction.

“you’re handling this pretty well,” he says. “most people scream.”

“i might start,” you say, gripping the seatbelt as he picks up speed again.

he grins, his eyes sparkling. “don’t worry. i’ll slow down if you ask.”

“don’t you dare,” you shoot back, surprising yourself with the boldness in your tone.

his laugh echoes through the car, and for a moment, you forget about the speed, the track, and everything else. it’s just you and rafe, the easy banter between you making the world outside seem far away.

after the ride, your nerves are still humming, but it’s not just from the speed—it’s from him. rafe parks the car back in the paddock with the smooth precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times, then turns to you with that trademark grin that’s equal parts cocky and boyish charm.

“so,” he says, resting an arm on the steering wheel as he looks over at you. “what’d you think? am i as good as the commentators say?”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “you’re fishing for compliments already?”

“just curious,” he says, leaning slightly closer. “it’s not every day i drive someone who actually knows the sport. figured you’d have some… constructive criticism.”

you meet his gaze, trying to hold your ground despite the way his blue eyes seem to see right through you. “okay, fine. you’re good. but don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” he quips, winking as he steps out of the car and rounds to your side, opening your door before you can do it yourself.

“chivalry?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you step out.

“what can i say? i’m full of surprises,” he replies, and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you.

stepping out of the car, you’re greeted by the crew from ferrari, their cameras pointed in your direction. you can see the bright red of the team logo on their shirts, and the reality of the situation hits you again—this isn’t just a dream. this is real. and rafe cameron is standing right next to you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“so,” rafe says, leaning casually against the car, his arms crossed as he looks at you. “what’d you think? was i as good as you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “you were fine. nothing i couldn’t handle.”

he laughs, the sound low and warm. “fine? come on, i saw you gripping that seat like your life depended on it.”

“it was a fast car!” you defend, crossing your arms. “anyone would’ve been nervous.”

“i think my soul left my body at least twice.”

he laughs, leaning casually against the car. “you didn’t scream, though. i’ll give you that.”

“oh, i wanted to,” you say, crossing your arms. “but i figured i’d try to keep a shred of dignity.”

“impressive,” he says, his grin widening. “most people lose it after the first corner.”

“what can i say?” you reply, your confidence bolstered by his teasing. “i’m just unique like that.”

his eyebrows lift with a teasing smirk. “oh, really? i should take those words back considering you couldn’t figure out their seatbelt.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands as the crew chuckles behind their cameras. “you’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“not a chance,” he says, his voice full of playful arrogance. “it’s going in the highlight reel for sure.”

“the highlight reel?” you ask, peeking at him through your fingers.

he nods, clearly loving the way he’s flustering you. “yeah, this is all for ferrari’s youtube channel. fans are going to love it. you’re a natural in front of the camera, by the way.”

the ferrari crew exchanges amused looks, clearly loving every second of the interaction. one of them steps forward, holding a mic. “so, what’s the verdict? would you ride with rafe again?”

you glance at rafe, who’s watching you with a smug smile, and decide to play along. “only if he promises not to tease me about the seatbelt ever again.”

“deal,” rafe says immediately, holding out his hand like it’s a serious negotiation.

you shake it, his grip warm and firm, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“all right, that’s a wrap for now,” one of the crew members says, lowering the camera. “great job, both of you.”

“so,” he says, his eyes locked on yours, “any chance you’re sticking around? i owe you a proper debrief. you know, off-camera.”

you laugh nervously, your heart pounding again. “i don’t think i’m qualified for that.”

“sure you are,” he says, that cocky grin firmly in place. “besides, it’s not every day i meet someone who keeps me on my toes.”

you bite your lip, trying to play it cool even as your pulse races. “i’ll think about it.”

“good,” he says, straightening up. “but don’t think too hard. you might miss out.”

as he walks away, the faint smell of cologne and burnt rubber lingering in the air, you realize you’re smiling like an idiot. living in the moment, you remind yourself, and for once, it feels pretty damn good.

you’re pacing the airbnb living room, recounting every detail of your post-drive conversation with rafe to jen and abby. well, trying to, anyway. your thoughts are still jumbled, the memory of his smile and the way he said, “you might miss out” playing on a loop in your head like a song you can’t stop humming.

“wait, wait, wait,” jen interrupts, holding up a hand as she sits cross-legged on the couch, her expression equal parts amused and incredulous. “you’re telling me rafe cameron invited you to hang out after the drive, and you didn’t say yes?”

you stop pacing, throwing your hands up. “i was stressed! it caught me off guard! do you know how many things were going through my head? i literally blanked.”

“girl.” jen’s voice is dripping with disbelief. “how do you blank on that? it’s rafe cameron.” she says his name like it’s your earth’s purpose, as if she can’t believe you’re even capable of such an oversight.

“i know, okay?” you groan, collapsing onto the armchair across from her. “but the cameras were there, and everyone was looking at me, and he was being all… rafe about it!”

abby, who’s been lounging on the other end of the couch scrolling through her phone, looks up with a sympathetic smile. “it’s fine. you’re overthinking it. and, like, you might want to stop, because…” she trails off, her smile growing into something mischievous.

“because what?” you ask, sitting up straight.

“look at your phone,” abby says, her tone light, teasing.

you hesitate, your heart already speeding up. “why?”

“just do it!” jen says, practically bouncing now, her curiosity piqued.

with a sinking feeling in your stomach—and a spark of hope you’re trying to ignore—you grab your phone from the coffee table. as soon as you unlock it, the notification stares back at you, big and bold and impossible to miss.

rafe cameron is following you.

your jaw drops, and for a moment, you can’t even form words.

“well?” jen demands, leaning forward. “what does it say?”

you hold up the screen, and both of them erupt into chaos. jen is practically shrieking, while abby claps her hands together like this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened.

“oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” jen yells, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “he followed you? this is huge. this is, like, life-changing!”

“it’s just a follow, right?” you mumble, though your face is burning, and you can’t stop the big smile creeping onto your lips. you were scared you were reaching too far.

“just a follow?” abby repeats, her eyebrows shooting up. “girl, this is rafe cameron. this isn’t just a follow; this is game on.”

“okay, but what do i do now?” you ask, your voice edging on panic. “do i follow him back? do i message him? do i do nothing?”

“you follow him back, duh,” jen says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “but don’t message him. play it cool.”

abby shakes her head. “no, you definitely message him. something casual, like, ‘thanks for the drive, it was fun.’ or maybe something flirty, like—”

“no flirty messages,” you interrupt, groaning. “i can’t. i’ll mess it up.”

“you can’t mess it up,” abby says confidently. “trust me, he’s already interested. the ball’s in your court.”

you stare at the notification again, your mind spinning. it’s surreal, like something out of a dream. jen and abby are still debating the best approach, but all you can think about is rafe’s smile, his voice, and the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

finally, you take a deep breath and follow him back.

“there,” you say, holding up the phone like you’ve just defused a bomb. “step one: complete.”

“and now we wait,” jen says, grinning. “but don’t worry. he’s definitely going to make the first move.”

abby smirks, raising an eyebrow. “oh, he’s already made the move.”

[starboye]

"𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒"

Day I - Older!Captain Price fucking femboy!younger!male reader

Day II - Rafe Cameron disciplining male reader because you were acting all bratty at one of his parties

Day III - Drew Starkey making male reader his bitch and dominating him after having a hard day

Day IV - Nate Jacobs choking male reader while fucking him

Day V - Stiles Stilinski rough fucking ftm!male reader and talking about how much he want you to get pregnant

Day VI - Gojo Saturo and male reader role playing you as the damsel in distress and gojo saving you and dicking you down as a prize

Day VII - Simon Riley breeding male reader over and over till you're filled with his delicious cum

Day VIII - Matt Sturniolo having a praise kink and top!male reader using that to your advantage throughout sex

Day IX - Tom Holland edging male reader so much

Day X - Chris Sturniolo fucking you till your an incoherent mess in front of a mirror

Day XI - Perter Parker orgasm denial from top!male reader

Day XII - remy gets jealous for whatever reason and he makes you watch him jack off and you can't touch him. You just have to sit in front of him and watch him and when he finishes he makes you swallow all of it

Day XIII - rough smut with Nicholas Alexander Chavez, maybe some guy tries flirting with reader and Nicholas gets pissed and rough fucks reader, maybe some daddy kink

Day XIV - Billy Loomis x SubTop shy nerdy Male Reader😭

Day XV - bellamy blake x thick fem boy reader, where everyone is having a party with drinking and dancing, and bellamy see reader dancing with other men and they keep grabbing his big ass bc it’s so big. so bellamy takes reader away and fucks that ass (also some face sitting 😏)

Day XVI - helping channing tatum at the gym and somehow stuff turns nsfw, do anything ya want with that, i'm just really REALLY desperate for stuff about him, can be short, can be long idc

Day XVII - cuck/stag fic with Charles leclerc the f1 driver, he seems like he’d be a huge cumdump behind closed doors and the reader could share him as punishment/desperation.

Day XVIII - Professor Miguel O’Hara and his student-boyfriend meeting up after class. Why, you ask? Well, the professor’s got a meeting. He’s gotta head home and take a shower. But a shower means washing away his glorious, glorious sweat and musk. He doesn’t want to deprive his good little slut of his favorite things in the world, so tells his boy to give him a tongue bath before his real one.

Day XIX - You want kinky? Musk kink, boot kink, choking kink, and of course knife play with Ghostface (whichever version) the ftm!reader fought back when GF tried to kill em, they all get sweaty and turned on so the fighting turned to fucking, Ghostface being Ghostface, he's all degrading, making the reader do stuff like grind on his boots, lick the blood off his knife and fuck themselves with the handle of it, all those good shit, what you think? Not too far?

Day XX - Sue Storm and The Thing are in an undercover mission which leaves Human Torch (Chris Evans), reader and Mr Fantastic (John Krasinski) alone in the same building. Johnny and reader use their free time to fuck, waking Reed from his sleep who is both frustrated and horny from reader's moans, he gets to the scene and finds Johnny fucking reader while holding him standing, this makes Reed turn feral and joins them to make a really dirty night

Day XXI - Mike Schmidt x kinky male reader who introduces him to the world of BDSM. Mike being a sub top with a praise kink, breeding kink, pet play (like having a leash on him and such) and other nasty things! Maybe even a bit of edging, like M/N punishing him by cockwarming him without letting him cum for a good while, leaving Mike needy and desperate to fill his boyfriends tight hole with his warm seed😮‍💨

Day XXII- ross lynch x onlyfans creator!reader, reader is recording himself for his only fans and as he is fingering himself ross walks in to his room and sees his roommate knuckles deep so reader gets an idea and stands up invites ross to come join and ross jumps on to the bed and start rimming him and fucks him like a slut and after they finish ross puts a cute little diamond butt plug

Day XXIII- soft dom soap x sub male reader where reader tries to be bratty to push soap but soap just treats him kindly like “oh you poor thing have I been neglecting you?” But like not in a mocking way and reader breaks kinda quickly and is good for soap enter babbling reader while soap coos praises

Day XXIV - Dom top Felix and bottom femboy male Reader where the middle of the night Felix catches reader in his bedroom fucking himself with a dildo moaning Felix's name saying fuck me Daddy so Felix steps into the room grabs Reader by the hair and starts fucking his face with big cock saying you want Daddy to fuck you and while Felix is fucking the Reader's face uses the dildo to fuck the reader then Felix is fills the reader's mouth full of cum and make some swallow then turns the reader on his hands and knees and just starts fucking the reader on the bed pulls him against his chest grabs his throat and just starts fucking him as hard as he can with the reader screaming Daddy Felix spanking the reader Felix just filling him full of cum reader belongs to Daddy now then the next morning Felix is fucking the reader as hard as he can against the window of the bedroom

Day XXV - Hiram Lodge and stepson femboy bottom male reader where Hiram has secretly been having sex with his stepson and turning him into his slutty bottom boy today alone for the whole month of October and Rita's dressing up in the slutty little school girl outfit with the mini skirt and thong and heels and Hiram and him want to try bondage so he gets all the equipment and Hiram ties the Reader's hands behind his back as Reader licks hiram's muscles and I'm face fucking male reader till he fills his mouth full of c** and then just starts fucking him while he's tied up pulling his hair and putting a ball gag in the Reader's mouth with bondage kink come eating muscle worship daddy kink and Hiram talking about getting reader pregnant if that's okay

Day XXVI - Logan howlette making ftm reader wear a bunny langire after his workout coming back all musky and sweaty all pent up and fucks male reader while male reader licks up logans sweat etc. Making logans smell kink and breed kink go off and fully breads male reader / size difference with Wolverine and an FTM reader. Logan is much bigger and stronger than reader and can pick him up, pin him down, and throw him around with ease and both of them go bonkers for it. Logan loves the control and power he has to play with reader as he pleases and reader loves feeling overpowered and in Logan's complete control

Day XXVII - sub!thicc femboy ftm reader x dom!homelander where reader is a supe in the seven who is stronger than all the heros and especially homelander but not strong enough in bed?? homelander finds reader in his apartment right in his room trying on the shortest skirts that shows his ass and pink high stockings, reader trys to explain before he gets his ass eaten and fucked raw until he cant breathe properly. i want some breeding kinks and alot of spanking, and ass worship if thats okay? i know ur busy but im just requesting this only if you have time, please and thank you.

Day XXVIII- X-Men 97 magneto and younger 18 year oldbottom femboy male reader loves that magneto so much older than him and has a daddy kink so when they're alone he catches magneto and nothing but a pair purple underwear so he starts kissing magneto licking down his muscles does magneto poses you sucking on his nipples and licking his abs body kissing down licking on his muscles drop to his knees and starts sucking magnetos big cock and balls magnet o moaning and calling reader a good boy grabbing his hair starts face fucking him then magneto pics reader up and starts fucking him right there till he feels him so full of c** and then throws reader over his desk and just keeps fucking him daddy kink breeding Kink and cum eating kink maybe you had Magneto's power somehow for bondage maybe readers power to make someone feel pleasure or pain how you want to do it maybe

Day XXIX - Step brother Tyler Lawrence Gray rough fucks his big bubble but step brother and cums in him

Day XXX - rafe cameron x thicc/male reader x topper x barry your dads is a football coach and rafe, topper, and barry are his star players so he invites them over and you get called down the stairs and they all just start staring at you and your juicy ass so as the night goes on whenever they walk by you they rub their bulges your ass or whenever you bend down to pick something up they always touch your ass…. After a while your dad goes to sleep and rafe, topper and barry goes into your room and they talk to you and rafe starts sitting on your bed and rubbing your thighs and then they finally convince you to have a foursome and they take turns eating your ass and while rafe is fuckin your ass he tells you not to be so loud your dad is sleeping so barry puts his dick in your mouth and you start sucking and your jerking off topper and they take turns and after awhile you are just fucked out with some many loads up your ass and rafe grabs his phone and spreads open your ass to take a video but after he’s done Barry and topper clean you out with their tongues and rafe helps you put your clothes on and in the morning your dad ask why are you limping and rafe laughs

Day XXXI - James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc

[rafecameronssl4t]

Cheeky Interview || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: just Rafe being cheeky during the after race interview

Warnings: none

Word count: 926

A/n: no f1 for awhile :(

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!rafe x reader au masterlist)

The press room buzzed with energy as Rafe Cameron leaned back in his chair, the epitome of relaxed confidence. His racing suit was tied around his waist, revealing the snug black undershirt clinging to his toned frame. The cameras loved him; his cheeky grin and smouldering blue eyes ensured that.

“Rafe, fantastic result today,” a journalist began, her pen poised. “P2, and some excellent overtakes out there. How are you feeling?” Rafe flashed a grin, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, it was a good day. The car felt great—big shoutout to the team for that. But, uh…” He paused, the corner of his mouth quirking up mischievously.

“I think I’ve got someone else to thank for the extra motivation today.” The room perked up, sensing something juicy. His PR manager, Mia, sitting in the corner, visibly tensed. “And who would that be?” another journalist pressed, leaning forward eagerly. Rafe shrugged casually, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his intentions.

“My girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “She’s here this weekend, which doesn’t happen often. When I saw her waving at me on the way to the grid? Yeah, I couldn’t let her down.” The reporters chuckled, a few murmuring “aww.” Rafe was in his element now.

“She’s been in the paddock all day,” Rafe continued, leaning into the mic. “I swear, the cameras are more focused on her than the cars. Can’t blame them, though. She looked unreal. Honestly, it’s unfair—I’m out here sweating in a fireproof suit, and she’s just strolling around making me look bad.”

More laughter rippled through the room, but Mia coughed, a clear signal. Rafe ignored it entirely. So, are we saying Y/n is your secret to success?” one reporter teased. “Secret?” Rafe scoffed. “Mate, there’s no secret about it. She’s my lucky charm. I told her if she keeps showing up, I might just win the championship.”

“She was in the paddock before the race, looking way too good. I was about to ditch the car and take her out for lunch instead.” The room erupted in laughter, but Mia was already shifting in her seat, a warning look sent his way. “Rafe,” she interjected, her tone polite but firm. “Let’s keep it focused on the race, yeah?”

Rafe barely blinked. “I am talking about the race. I mean, if she wasn’t here, I’d probably be in the gravel by lap two.” He winked at the room, fully aware of the chaos he was causing. Mia pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath as the journalists continued to eat up Rafe’s every word.

“One last thing,” a bold reporter called out. “Any chance Y/n will be joining you on the podium next time?” Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “If it were up to me, she’d already have her own spot. Honestly, I’d probably just step aside and let her take my trophy. She deserves one just for putting up with me.”

Mia cut in again, this time more forcefully. “Thank you, everyone. That’s all for now!” As the reporters reluctantly began to pack up, she shot Rafe a look that clearly showed she was annoyed. Rafe only shrugged, his grin never faltering. “What? They asked. I answered.”

“Next time,” she hissed under her breath as they walked out of the room, “stick to the car and the team. You’re impossible, Cameron.” “Impossible or irresistible?” he quipped, glancing back at her. But his smirk softened as he spotted you waiting at the end of the hall, your smile brightening the moment you saw him.

“See?” Rafe said, nodding toward you as he strode up, his confident smirk softening the moment his eyes met yours. “Totally worth it.” You couldn’t help but grin, stepping closer. Rising onto your tiptoes, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he smiled against your lips, his warmth seeping into you.

“How was it?” you asked softly, glancing over his shoulder just in time to catch his Mia pinching the bridge of her nose. “Typical Rafe,” she muttered under her breath before walking off, clearly exasperated. Rafe chuckled, the sound deep and full of mischief, as his hands slid to rest on your hips.

His blue eyes sparkled with playful defiance as you raised an eyebrow at him. “What did you do this time?” you asked, laughter bubbling in your voice. Rafe held his hands up in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Why do you assume it was me?” he said, feigning innocence with an exaggerated gasp.

“Because,” you replied, crossing your arms as you tried—and failed—to look stern, “most of the time, it is you.” He leaned closer, his smirk downright wicked now. “Fair point,” he admitted, dropping his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But come on, you know you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop your own smile from breaking through. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself in real trouble.” He shrugged, pulling you back into his chest. “Probably. But as long as you’re there to bail me out, I’ll survive.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Unfinished Lap || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: One moment, Rafe was dominating the race; the next, it all slipped away. You tried to steady his rising emotions, but his frustration overwhelmed him, leaving you no choice but to walk away from the paddock.

Warnings: angst, kinda toxic!rafe if there’s anything else lmk!

Word count: 1,865

A/n: nfl!rafe x dcc!reader later today!!! (Second part is up!)

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!rafe x fem!reader au masterlist)

“No! No! What happened?” Rafe’s voice crackles through the radio, his panic lacing every syllable as the chaos unfolds on the screen. Your gaze flickers back to the broadcast, watching his Ferrari crawl around the track, smoke billowing from the engine.

One moment, he was dominating the race, leading effortlessly—now, he’s barely moving. A mechanic’s voice cuts through the air, sharp with frustration. “His engine’s fucked,” a mechanic mutters, his voice heavy with disappointment. The team around them exchanges grim looks, all too aware of what this means for Rafe.

In your head, you can already hear his inner monologue—his fury at the failure, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Rafe was the kind of guy who measures his worth by every lap, every second on the track. Failure doesn’t sit well with him—especially failure that isn’t within his control.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The best you can do now is try to stay positive, to soothe the storm he’s bound to unleash on himself. But you know how hard that will be. Rafe is a perfectionist. The smallest misstep, the smallest flaw, eats away at him. Problems that he can’t control, like this—like his car giving out—will be the ones that break him.

Your gaze shifts back to the screen, where Rafe’s car is now completely immobilized. Smoke still rising, he’s done for the day. You exhale sharply. The screen zooms in on him, his face a mask of frustration. He’s already agitated, you can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way he rips his gloves off his hands. You sigh, half in pity, half in resignation, when hand suddenly appears on your shoulder.

Austin gives you a sympathetic look. You force a smile, trying to lighten the moment, you both know the storm Rafe’s about to bring. You watch as the safety car pulls up in front of the garage, Rafe soon emerges, his movements stiff, every step heavy with the weight of his disappointment.

He walks past his team, offering a few terse pats on the back, but his face is an unreadable mask. It’s clear he’s holding everything inside, and that’s never a good sign. When he finally approaches you, your heart sinks. You open your arms, ready to offer the comfort you know he needs.

But Rafe, eyes dark with frustration, only snakes his hand briefly around your waist, his touch cold, distant. “It’s okay-“ You start but is cut off my him, “It’s not. It was a fucking shit show, so don’t say that it’s okay,” he spits, his voice low but sharp, full of venom as he practically hisses the words into your ear before brushing past you.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit harder than you expected, the sting of them sharper than you imagined. You can feel your heart beat erratically in your chest, a mix of shock and hurt washing over you. You scoff, trying to hold yourself together, trying not to let his outburst tear you apart.

His behavior is worse than you thought—this rage, this venom he’s spewing, it’s not just at the race. It’s at everything. And you, standing here, helpless to make him see reason, feel like the target. Rafe’s PR manager, Mia, watches the exchange from a distance, her eyes filled with sympathy.

You give her a small, dismissive wave, brushing off the weight of the situation as best as you can before turning sharply to head toward Rafe’s room. You close the door behind you, and the silence envelops you both. Rafe sits hunched over, his head in his hands, but when you speak, he doesn’t respond.

“It’s not your fault,” you say, your voice soft but firm as Rafe lifts his head from his hands. His eyes lock onto yours—cold, distant, unreadable. The usual fire you know him for is gone, replaced by a storm you can’t understand. You step closer, your heart tightening in your chest as you meet his gaze. “You know that, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stares at you, his jaw clenched tight, his expression a mask of frustration. There’s something else behind his eyes, something that feels like defeat. “I don’t need your sympathy, Y/n,” Rafe mutters, the words barely escaping his lips, low and edged with annoyance.

You flinch, but you don’t back down. You refuse to let him push you away, not now, not when he’s clearly falling apart inside. “I’m not trying to pity you,” you reply softly, crossing your arms as you take another step forward. “I’m trying to help you.”Rafe growls under his breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t need help. I need things to fucking work out for once,” he snaps, the bitterness in his tone cutting through the air like a blade. Your chest tightens at his words, but you stay calm, your hand trembling slightly as you reach out to him, your fingers running through his hair, offering a fragile comfort.

You lean his head against your stomach, holding him in the way you know he needs, even if he doesn’t want it. “You were doing great out there, Rafe,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. “It wasn’t your fault the car broke down. You couldn’t have known—”

“Just stop, Y/n,” he interrupts, his voice rising, harsh and guttural. He jerks his head away from your touch, the movement quick and sharp. He stands up abruptly, pacing away from you as his frustration boils over. “I’m fucking tired of this. Tired of everyone pretending like it’s fine when it’s not.”

You watch him, unsure of how to respond. He’s pacing now, back and forth, his movements agitated, like he’s trying to escape the tension that’s building up inside of him. The room feels smaller now, and you feel more distant from him than ever before. “Why do you have to keep pretending everything’s okay?”

He spits, his eyes flashing with something fierce, something you can’t quite pinpoint. “You keep telling me I’m fine- that I did well- but it doesn’t fucking matter. It’s not fine.” You stand frozen, trying to make sense of his words, your heart sinking with every second. “I’m not pretending, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to make him see, trying to make him understand.

“I know you hate losing, but you were amazing out there. I just… I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over something you couldn’t control.” “You don’t get it, do you?” he snaps, his voice breaking with the weight of his own frustration. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy. I don’t need you trying to make it better with your damn words. Words don’t fix this.”

The sting of his words hits you like a slap in the face, but you hold your ground, refusing to let the hurt show. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Rafe. You think I don’t know how much you’re killing yourself over this? You’re destroying yourself from the inside out when things you can’t control go wrong. But I can’t just sit here and watch you do that to yourself.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want your fucking help.” His voice is cold now, empty of anything resembling warmth. He sinks into a chair in the corner of the room, slumping back as if the weight of the world has finally crushed him under its pressure. “I’ll deal with it myself.”

You stand there for a moment, the silence deafening, before the frustration boils over, spilling from your lips before you can stop it. “I’m sorry for caring about you,” you mutter bitterly, the hurt in your voice unmistakable as you turn away. You can’t stand to be near him right now, not when he’s pushing you away like this.

You grab your bag, the strap slipping off your shoulder as you prepare to leave the Ferrari garage. Your pace quickens, the footsteps echoing too loudly against the concrete floor. The people around you, the team members, staff, mechanics—they all seem to part in front of you, but their gazes follow you, like they know something’s wrong.

And it makes everything worse. As you make your way towards the exit, Austin steps into your path, his eyes scanning you with concern. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice low but urgent. You freeze for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. You don’t even know how to begin explaining what just happened.

The words that Rafe had spat at you earlier still sting, his anger, his frustration—none of it was about you, but somehow it felt like it was. “I… I need to get out of here,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him, but Austin’s hand gently grips your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

It’s as if he’s waiting for you to break down, to tell him what’s going on. But you can’t. You just can’t. You feel your chest tighten, your throat constricting. Every part of you wants to leave, to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of the garage, the pitying looks, and the questions you don’t want to answer.

“I… I just can’t right now,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t want to break down in front of him, especially not here. Not now. Not when everything feels like it’s crumbling around you. You shake your head, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. “I just need space,” you choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of it all.

“Please, I just need to go.” Austin doesn’t stop you this time. You step out of the garage, the cool air hitting your face, but it does nothing to numb the pain inside. As you walk past the crowd, the stares feel even sharper now, their judgment cutting through you like a knife. You ignore them, but the weight of their eyes only adds to the heaviness in your chest.

“Y/n, why are you leaving so soon?” A voice calls out from behind, but you don’t turn. Paparazzi surround you almost instantly, their cameras flashing in rapid succession, each click a reminder of the chaos you’re trying to escape. You keep walking, your head held high, your face stoic, their questions are nothing but noise.

You reach your car, your hands trembling as you unlock it, your phone buzzing relentlessly in your pocket. Your phone buzzes in your pocket again, persistent, like it won’t let you escape. You pull it out, knowing who it’s from before you even look at the screen. Rafe’s name is there, multiple texts, all apologies and pleading, the usual dance he does when he’s trying to fix something.

But this time, you can’t bring yourself to read them. Not now. Not after everything that just happened. You scoff, a bitter sound, the frustration and hurt bubbling up again. With a harsh swipe, you shove the phone back into your bag and slam the door of your car shut, the sound of the engine roaring to life offering you a strange kind of relief.

PART TWO HERE

[rafecameronssl4t]

F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader au masterlist

divider by @h-aewo

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl

Unfinished Lap

Cheeky interview

Public eye

Requests are open!!!

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: ur first appearance in the paddock with Rafe :)

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,936

A/n: if you couldn't tell by my pfp of Alexandra, i love her and she's who i imagine when i write these f1 fics but of course its up to you!!!!

MASTERLIST (f1 driver x fem!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The world of Formula 1 was glamorous but intimidating, and you felt the weight of a thousand eyes on you. Speculations about your relationship with Rafe, Ferrari's Golden Boy, had been swirling for months, growing louder with every blurred paparazzi photo and cryptic comment he let slip in interviews.

Coming from Rafe’s hometown in the Outer Banks, you weren’t accustomed to attention from the public eye and a sea of flashing camera. Paparazzi had caught glimpses of you together over the past few months—dinners at intimate restaurants, quiet walks along the beach, stolen kisses on his yacht—but this was different.

This was your official debut as his girlfriend, stepping into the spotlight for the first time. Your heart raced, not from the adrenaline of the sport but from the nerve-wracking reality of being here, surrounded by people who lived and breathed Formula 1. You’d spent countless nights scrolling through social media, seeing how some fans could be—relentless in their opinions, cutting down a driver’s girlfriend simply because they didn’t like her.

It was tough sometimes, imagining yourself on the receiving end of that scrutiny. Would they think you were good enough for Rafe? Would they nitpick your every move, your every word, just to find flaws? The thought had kept you awake the night before, despite Rafe’s reassurances.

Rafe, walking beside you, was as confident as ever, exuding the easy charisma that had made him both a star on the track and off. His hand rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos, even outside the paddock gates, with practised ease. Your hands were slightly shaky as you scanned your paddock pass, “You good?” he asked, leaning down so only you could hear.

His voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy around you. You glanced up at him. “I think so,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise. “Don’t think,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Just walk in there like you own the place. Because, baby, you kind of do.” He adds, kissing the side of your head.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. Rafe had an unmatched ability to make you feel like you belonged, even when you doubted yourself. You smooth out your red dress—one he had personally insisted you wear. "You'll match the car," he'd teased, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "And I'll look like the luckiest guy in the paddock."

As you walked past the throngs of fans lined against the barriers, the buzz grew louder. Their cheers grew louder, a cacophony of voices calling out Rafe’s name—and, to your surprise, your own. Phones were raised, the flashes of cameras capturing every moment. Your heart raced, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through you.

"See, they like you already," Austin, Rafe's personal trainer teased gently. His tone was lighthearted, a deliberate attempt to ease your obvious unease. He nudged your arm, grinning as you chuckled softly, trying to shake off the nerves that clung to you. Rafe, ever composed and effortlessly charming, raised his hand in a casual wave to the crowd.

You followed his lead, offering a small, tentative wave and a smile that you hoped looked more confident than you felt. Rafe checked his watch before glancing at the crowd again. “We’ve got time, don’t we?” he asked Austin, though it was more rhetorical than a genuine inquiry. Without waiting for a response, he veered toward a particularly animated group of fans near the front of the barrier.

You stayed back with Austin, watching as Rafe transitioned seamlessly into fan mode. He moved with ease, signing caps, shirts, and posters, pausing for selfies, and exchanging quick banter with his supporters. Your gaze softened as you observed him, pride swelling in your chest. He looked so at home in this chaotic environment, his bright smile and relaxed demeanor making him seem untouchable yet entirely approachable.

Then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, Rafe turned his head to look at you. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he said something, his words lost in the roar of the crowd. “What’s he saying?” you asked Austin, tilting your head in confusion. Rafe then blew you a kiss with an exaggerated flair, his grin widening when he saw the shy smile it drew from you.

“Rafe, is that your girlfriend over there?” a girl asked as he scribbled his autograph on his photo. Her tone was curious but warm, not laced with the venom you’d feared. Rafe glanced back at you, his smile softening into something almost tender. “Yeah,” he said proudly, not missing a beat. “That’s her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” The fans erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they turned their attention to you.

You froze for a moment, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but Rafe’s unwavering confidence in you gave you the courage to offer another small wave. “I hope you guys love her as much as I do,” Rafe added, his tone light but sincere. After a few more photos and quick goodbyes, Rafe made his way back to you, his stride confident and purposeful. As soon as he reached you, his arm slipped naturally around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“What were you saying back there?” you asked, looking up at him with curiosity. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. “Just telling them how gorgeous you are,” he replied casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warm as you let out a soft, embarrassed giggle.

Rafe chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction, and squeezed your shoulder. The paddock was a whirlwind of activity. Team members darted around, engineers shouted commands, and reporters lingered, waiting for their chance to snag an interview. Rafe navigated it effortlessly, introducing you to key people as you clung to his side, trying to take it all in.

As he prepared to leave for his pre-race routine, he turned to you, the confident façade slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, his fingers lingering at your side. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine, I'll hang out with Sofia," You say, glancing back at Sofia who was Rafe's teammate's girlfriend.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your cheeks flush. “Good. Because you belong here with me, whether you believe it yet or not.” As he walked away, you felt the cameras capturing the moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel out of place. You felt proud. Proud to be by his side, no matter how intimidating the spotlight might be.

~

"Rafe Cameron wins the Spanish Grand Prix, and it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia Ferrari!" The commentator's jubilant voice rang through your headphones, the words igniting an explosion of joy in the Ferrari garage. The moment the announcement registered, you and Sofia turned to each other, your faces lighting up with pure elation.

Without thinking, you both started squealing, your voices blending into the symphony of celebration around you. You grabbed her hands, jumping up and down like giddy schoolgirls, the weight of nerves and anticipation finally melting away. “They did it!” Sofia shouted, her wide grin matching yours as you both clung to each other, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the victory.

The rest of the Ferrari garage erupted into cheers, a sea of red erupting with applause, hugs, and celebratory fist pumps. Engineers and crew members were already spilling out onto the pitlane, sprinting toward the podium to catch a glimpse of their drivers and bask in the glory of the victory. You could barely hear yourself think over the noise, but it didn’t matter.

The joy was infectious, and you found yourself swept up in the chaos, laughing and cheering along with everyone else. Sofia nudged you with her elbow, her face flushed with excitement. “We’ve gotta get to the podium!” You didn’t need to be told twice. Linking arms with her, you followed the stream of Ferrari personnel down the pitlane. Your heart pounded in your chest—not from nerves this time, but from pride and exhilaration.

As you reached the podium area, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. Thousands of fans filled the grandstands, waving Ferrari flags and chanting Rafe’s name. The energy was electric, the entire circuit seemingly united in celebration. The team’s staff ushered you and Sofia forward, guiding you both to the front row, just behind the barriers, giving you the perfect view. And then you saw him, climbing out of his car with a triumphant smile that lit up his entire face.

He threw his arms up in victory, basking in the adoration of the crowd. Your heart raced as Rafe's eyes locked onto yours in the midst of the roaring crowd. His grin widened, that familiar spark of mischief in his gaze, and he pointed directly at you. It felt like the world slowed for just a moment—just you and him, amidst the chaos.

The cameras snapped furiously, capturing the fleeting connection between you both, and a wave of pride surged through you. Without thinking, you blew him a kiss, your smile so wide it felt like your cheeks might burst from the effort. His response was immediate. With a joyful laugh and a skip in his step, Rafe jumped down from his car, making his way toward you as if nothing else in the world mattered.

As he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment, as the crowd's cheers grew louder around you. The cameras followed you both closely, documenting the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. "You did it, baby!" you exclaimed, your voice muffled slightly by the noise around you, but the sentiment was clear.

Rafe held you close, his arms strong around your back, his helmet still on, the sweaty material of his racing suit rubbing against your skin. He laughed, a deep, satisfied sound that resonated with the energy of the victory. "Couldn’t have done it without you," he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. Then, with a playful grin, he lifted his visor, revealing the intensity of his eyes beneath.

You leaned up and placed a quick, soft kiss on his helmet, the action gentle and affectionate. The cameras caught the moment, and you could hear the claps and whistles of Rafe's teammates in the background. You pulled away, giggling shyly, feeling the heat rush to your face as the attention turned to you.

Rafe chuckled and pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around your waist as his team started to gather around, congratulating him, giving high-fives, and sharing the celebratory moment with the driver of the day. But even as they swarmed him, Rafe never let go of you, his hand resting possessively on your back as he basked in his well-earned victory.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Omg Pt 2 of unfinished lap??? Reader makes him eat his heart out looking super hot and he grovels??? PUHLEASE

Unfinished lap pt.2 || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭

Warnings: angst!!!!

Word count: 1,396

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x reader au masterlist)

PART ONE HERE

The Monaco Grand Prix was undoubtedly one of the most highly anticipated races of the year, and it was clear why. The energy was electric from the moment you stepped into the paddock. Journalists swarmed, eager to capture every headline-worthy moment, while paparazzi darted about, snapping photos of drivers and their glamorous entourages.

Team crew members hustled through the maze of garages, their focused expressions a stark contrast to the spectacle of it all. It was a world that thrived on chaos, glitz, and precision—a breathtaking display of Formula 1’s allure. Austin had accompanied you this time, his calm presence a stark contrast to the whirlwind around you.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Rafe, your communication routed exclusively through Austin. The distance had been intentional. After the heated fallout at the Miami Grand Prix, you had felt the need to step away, to find a moment to breathe. So, you flew back home for a few days, seeking solace in the familiar before making your way to France just 24 hours ago.

Of course, your arrival had been made seamless, courtesy of Rafe's private jet. It was his unspoken way of showing care, even in the midst of a strained silence. He had respected your desire for space, understanding the weight of what had transpired between you. Yet, the air still felt charged, the unresolved tension from Miami lingering like an invisible thread pulling at both of you.

Now, standing in the heart of Monaco’s bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but wonder how this weekend would unfold. The aftermath of Miami still clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Your abrupt departure before the race had even ended—and without Rafe by your side—had set social media ablaze. Fans were quick to notice, flooding timelines with speculation.

Did you and Rafe have a falling out? Was this the beginning of cracks in what many saw as a perfect relationship? The whispers of gossip added another layer to the weight you already carried. As you stepped into the paddock, the flashing cameras were almost blinding. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, their voices rising as they called your name. You offered them a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was enough to quell the barrage of questions—for now.

The murmurs and shutter clicks followed you like a persistent hum, a reminder that every move you made here was under scrutiny. Austin, always the reliable mediator, had informed you that Rafe was already at the paddock. His presence was palpable even without seeing him, a tension that hung in the air. But finding him wasn’t your priority at the moment. The thought of facing him so soon felt daunting, not when your emotions were still tangled from the events in Miami.

Instead, you sought comfort in familiar company, meeting up with some friends at Ferrari’s hospitality complex. The atmosphere was lively but far more relaxed than the frenzy outside. You eased into the plush seating, a chilled glass of champagne in hand, while plates of gourmet food were passed around. The warm laughter and light conversation helped loosen the knot in your chest, even if only temporarily.

Yet, even as you tried to immerse yourself in the moment, you couldn’t ignore the faint buzz of your phone in your bag.

Rafe

Austin says you're here, where are you?

Y/n

Hospitality.

Without waiting for Rafe's response, you silenced your phone, flipping it face down on the table with a snap. You didn’t want to be distracted, not when there were conversations to be had with friends who actually cared—or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you leaned back into the easy rhythm of small talk with Sofia and the others. Your smile was polite, but hollow, just like the words coming out of your mouth.

Inside, you were still seething, and nothing about the pre-race buzz seemed to settle the storm inside you. As the race approached, the paddock swelled with even more energy. "Y/n! Over here!" You hear paparazzi call out as you turn your head to see them all flashing their camera as you give them a wave. "They grow more obsessive over you every day, I swear," Sofia chuckles, as you let out a soft snort, knowing this dress was your petty version of a revenge dress.

The air crackled with excitement, but you were numb to it, your thoughts wrapped tightly around everything that had been left unsaid between you and Rafe. Sofia nudged you, a knowing glint in her eyes, breaking your daze. You frowned, her questioning look making you snap out of your thoughts. "What?" you asked.

She nodded subtly, gesturing with her chin, and you followed her gaze. Your heart clenched. Rafe was approaching, his racing suit snug against his toned frame, the helmet in his hand an afterthought. His eyes, however, were locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to look away. He walked through the chaos of the grid like he was moving in slow motion, cutting through the noise, determined.

The sea of people, the flashes of cameras, none of it seemed to matter. It was like he was trying to pull you back in, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be pulled anymore. Sofia gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile before slipping away toward her boyfriend. You stayed rooted to the spot, knowing full well what was coming. Your eyes met his when he finally reached you, and the force of his gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

There was something there—something unreadable. You hated how it made you feel. You offered him a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. It was stiff, polite, barely enough to hide the way you felt. He saw it, of course, because he always did. He could read you better than anyone else. “Good luck,” you said, the words coming out more as a formality than genuine well-wishing. Your voice was even, but it didn’t carry the warmth it usually did when you said it to him.

You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, doing it out of habit rather than any lingering affection. It was an automatic move, like you’d done it a thousand times before. Rising onto your toes, you kissed his cheek. The kiss was longer than it should have been, the seconds stretching into an eternity as your lips lingered. But it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like something you didn’t want to face.

“Wait.” His voice sliced through the noise, barely audible over the rising hum of the grid as his hand grips your forearm. Your body froze at the sound of it, tension building in your chest. You hated how much it affected you. You hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him after the things he’d said, yet here he was, pulling you back into his orbit with just two words. You looked over your shoulder, meeting his gaze.

The vulnerability there was almost too much. You turned, your gaze cold. "What?" you snapped, not hiding the edge of frustration in your voice. “Can we talk, please?” he asked, the words soft, almost pleading. His face was a mix of urgency and something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You wanted to scream at him. To tell him you weren’t some emotional ragdoll he could throw aside whenever it suited him. But all that came out was silence.

You glanced around at the sea of people—team members huddled together, journalists with cameras in hand, all capturing this moment. Everything about this was wrong. You could already feel the eyes on you both, the pressure mounting. This was the last place you wanted to have this conversation. "Right now?" you asked, your voice biting. "But—"

Before you could finish, Austin materialized at Rafe’s side, his timing as impeccable as always. You almost resented him for it. “Rafe, the anthem is happening soon,” he said, his voice carrying a firm but unspoken reminder that the world didn’t stop for personal drama. He looked at you briefly, offering a polite smile, but it felt more like an apology for the situation than anything else.

“Go,” you said, your voice colder than you meant it to be. You gently moved his hand from your forearm, the briefest contact of your fingers almost too much. His touch lingered even after he let go, the warmth of it burning into you. His shoulders sagged slightly, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He nodded, but it was a hollow gesture, a promise that didn’t carry weight. “After the race,” he muttered, his voice low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

~

Rafe’s victory, though impressive, only seemed to amplify the tension between you both. As you stood near the podium, clapping along with the others, you felt the anger simmering beneath your skin. The sound of Ferrari’s team celebrating—their cheers, the clapping—was a distant noise, something that barely registered to you. Rafe stood there, triumphant, raising his trophy high as the crowd cheered around him.

But despite his success, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than the sharp ache that had settled in your chest. Your smile, if you could even call it that, was a thin mask you wore out of habit, an automatic response to the situation. You tried to focus on the celebrations, but every part of you was focused on him. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze intense and unyielding.

You stared at the big screen, watching his expression shift as he looked directly down at you, a brief flicker of something—regret, maybe—flashing across his face. You hated it. You hated how that tiny moment made you question everything. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to let yourself feel anything beyond the cold distance you had wrapped around your emotions.

Instead, you kept your focus on the screen, acting like you didn’t care. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, calling out to you, asking for forgiveness, but you shut it out. The ache from his words—those careless, hurtful things he’d said—was still so raw, and you were not ready to let it go. The second the podium ceremony ended, you wasted no time in leaving the crowd behind.

You moved quickly through the cluster of team members, your steps deliberate as you walked away, trying to escape the noise and the energy that had once felt like home.

~

You hesitated outside the door to Rafe’s private room, your hand hovering over the handle. The paddock’s noise was a faint hum in the distance now, replaced by the deafening sound of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be here—every fibre of your being told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect yourself. But you also couldn’t leave things like this. Not after everything.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Rafe sat on the small couch, his racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, his head resting in his hands. The sight of him—so unguarded, so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—sent a pang through your chest.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close behind you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was thick, suffocating, as he straightened up, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low, almost accusing.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the anger bubbling up again. “What did you expect, Rafe? A standing ovation for the way you spoke to me in Miami?” His jaw tightened, and he stood, his movements stiff and deliberate as he closed some of the space between you. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You think an apology fixes everything?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Do you even understand how much you hurt me? I was trying to help you, Rafe. To be there for you. And you acted like I was just… in your way. Like I didn’t matter.” His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t think I know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know I was out of line. But I didn’t mean any of it.” “Then why say it?” you countered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you always push me away when all I’m trying to do is be there for you?” Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this!” he admitted, his voice raw.

“I don’t know how to let people in without feeling like they’re gonna see how much of a failure I feel like sometimes. It’s easier to shut you out than to risk you seeing that.” Your heart clenched at his admission, but the sting of his earlier words still lingered. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Rafe,” you said softly, your tone firm. “You don’t get to decide how much of you I can handle. That’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”

He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not fair. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.”You searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret. And fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “I just need you to let me in. To stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try. Because losing you… I can’t do that. I won’t.” Your resolve wavered, the walls you’d built around yourself beginning to crack. “I’m holding you to that,” you said quietly, letting him close the remaining distance between you.

Rafe’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip tentative but steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his voice laced with a sincerity that made your chest ache. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”The anger and hurt didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[rafecameronssl4t]

SURPRISS SHAWTY GO FOLLOW MY TIKTOK IF U HAVENT ALR link to vid (just so im clear im not in any way shipping the two 😭) also did yk Madelyn and Alexa are moots on insta!!!

[nemesyaaa]

this is so good. i love to see rafe as a F1 driver because omgg he would be so hot in this, and especially i imagine s4!rafe because damn, he's into competition. i tried to not think of charles leclerc at the same time but i can't 😩

The world of Formula 1 was glamorous but intimidating, and you felt the weight of a thousand eyes on you. Speculations about your relationship with Rafe, Ferrari's Golden Boy, had been swirling for months, growing louder with every blurred paparazzi photo and cryptic comment he let slip in interviews. — the life i want and i deserve ☹️☹️

This was your official debut as his girlfriend, stepping into the spotlight for the first time. Your heart raced, not from the adrenaline of the sport but from the nerve-wracking reality of being here, surrounded by people who lived and breathed Formula 1. You’d spent countless nights scrolling through social media, seeing how some fans could be—relentless in their opinions, cutting down a driver’s girlfriend simply because they didn’t like her. — shout out to alexa for this and all the girlfriends bc damn, they're hated for anything

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. Rafe had an unmatched ability to make you feel like you belonged, even when you doubted yourself. You smooth out your red dress—one he had personally insisted you wear. "You'll match the car," he'd teased, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "And I'll look like the luckiest guy in the paddock." — he's so sweet, the sweetest ever

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your cheeks flush. “Good. Because you belong here with me, whether you believe it yet or not.” As he walked away, you felt the cameras capturing the moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel out of place. You felt proud. Proud to be by his side, no matter how intimidating the spotlight might be. — this is precious for me. two worlds are collided 😋

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: ur first appearance in the paddock with Rafe :)

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,936

A/n: if you couldn't tell by my pfp of Alexandra, i love her and she's who i imagine when i write these f1 fics but of course its up to you!!!!

MASTERLIST (f1 driver x fem!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The world of Formula 1 was glamorous but intimidating, and you felt the weight of a thousand eyes on you. Speculations about your relationship with Rafe, Ferrari's Golden Boy, had been swirling for months, growing louder with every blurred paparazzi photo and cryptic comment he let slip in interviews.

Coming from Rafe’s hometown in the Outer Banks, you weren’t accustomed to attention from the public eye and a sea of flashing camera. Paparazzi had caught glimpses of you together over the past few months—dinners at intimate restaurants, quiet walks along the beach, stolen kisses on his yacht—but this was different.

This was your official debut as his girlfriend, stepping into the spotlight for the first time. Your heart raced, not from the adrenaline of the sport but from the nerve-wracking reality of being here, surrounded by people who lived and breathed Formula 1. You’d spent countless nights scrolling through social media, seeing how some fans could be—relentless in their opinions, cutting down a driver’s girlfriend simply because they didn’t like her.

It was tough sometimes, imagining yourself on the receiving end of that scrutiny. Would they think you were good enough for Rafe? Would they nitpick your every move, your every word, just to find flaws? The thought had kept you awake the night before, despite Rafe’s reassurances.

Rafe, walking beside you, was as confident as ever, exuding the easy charisma that had made him both a star on the track and off. His hand rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos, even outside the paddock gates, with practised ease. Your hands were slightly shaky as you scanned your paddock pass, “You good?” he asked, leaning down so only you could hear.

His voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy around you. You glanced up at him. “I think so,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise. “Don’t think,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Just walk in there like you own the place. Because, baby, you kind of do.” He adds, kissing the side of your head.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the nerves didn’t completely fade. Rafe had an unmatched ability to make you feel like you belonged, even when you doubted yourself. You smooth out your red dress—one he had personally insisted you wear. "You'll match the car," he'd teased, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "And I'll look like the luckiest guy in the paddock."

As you walked past the throngs of fans lined against the barriers, the buzz grew louder. Their cheers grew louder, a cacophony of voices calling out Rafe’s name—and, to your surprise, your own. Phones were raised, the flashes of cameras capturing every moment. Your heart raced, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through you.

"See, they like you already," Austin, Rafe's personal trainer teased gently. His tone was lighthearted, a deliberate attempt to ease your obvious unease. He nudged your arm, grinning as you chuckled softly, trying to shake off the nerves that clung to you. Rafe, ever composed and effortlessly charming, raised his hand in a casual wave to the crowd.

You followed his lead, offering a small, tentative wave and a smile that you hoped looked more confident than you felt. Rafe checked his watch before glancing at the crowd again. “We’ve got time, don’t we?” he asked Austin, though it was more rhetorical than a genuine inquiry. Without waiting for a response, he veered toward a particularly animated group of fans near the front of the barrier.

You stayed back with Austin, watching as Rafe transitioned seamlessly into fan mode. He moved with ease, signing caps, shirts, and posters, pausing for selfies, and exchanging quick banter with his supporters. Your gaze softened as you observed him, pride swelling in your chest. He looked so at home in this chaotic environment, his bright smile and relaxed demeanor making him seem untouchable yet entirely approachable.

Then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, Rafe turned his head to look at you. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he said something, his words lost in the roar of the crowd. “What’s he saying?” you asked Austin, tilting your head in confusion. Rafe then blew you a kiss with an exaggerated flair, his grin widening when he saw the shy smile it drew from you.

“Rafe, is that your girlfriend over there?” a girl asked as he scribbled his autograph on his photo. Her tone was curious but warm, not laced with the venom you’d feared. Rafe glanced back at you, his smile softening into something almost tender. “Yeah,” he said proudly, not missing a beat. “That’s her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” The fans erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they turned their attention to you.

You froze for a moment, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but Rafe’s unwavering confidence in you gave you the courage to offer another small wave. “I hope you guys love her as much as I do,” Rafe added, his tone light but sincere. After a few more photos and quick goodbyes, Rafe made his way back to you, his stride confident and purposeful. As soon as he reached you, his arm slipped naturally around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“What were you saying back there?” you asked, looking up at him with curiosity. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. “Just telling them how gorgeous you are,” he replied casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warm as you let out a soft, embarrassed giggle.

Rafe chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction, and squeezed your shoulder. The paddock was a whirlwind of activity. Team members darted around, engineers shouted commands, and reporters lingered, waiting for their chance to snag an interview. Rafe navigated it effortlessly, introducing you to key people as you clung to his side, trying to take it all in.

As he prepared to leave for his pre-race routine, he turned to you, the confident façade slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, his fingers lingering at your side. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine, I'll hang out with Sofia," You say, glancing back at Sofia who was Rafe's teammate's girlfriend.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your cheeks flush. “Good. Because you belong here with me, whether you believe it yet or not.” As he walked away, you felt the cameras capturing the moment, and for the first time, you didn’t feel out of place. You felt proud. Proud to be by his side, no matter how intimidating the spotlight might be.

~

"Rafe Cameron wins the Spanish Grand Prix, and it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia Ferrari!" The commentator's jubilant voice rang through your headphones, the words igniting an explosion of joy in the Ferrari garage. The moment the announcement registered, you and Sofia turned to each other, your faces lighting up with pure elation.

Without thinking, you both started squealing, your voices blending into the symphony of celebration around you. You grabbed her hands, jumping up and down like giddy schoolgirls, the weight of nerves and anticipation finally melting away. “They did it!” Sofia shouted, her wide grin matching yours as you both clung to each other, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the victory.

The rest of the Ferrari garage erupted into cheers, a sea of red erupting with applause, hugs, and celebratory fist pumps. Engineers and crew members were already spilling out onto the pitlane, sprinting toward the podium to catch a glimpse of their drivers and bask in the glory of the victory. You could barely hear yourself think over the noise, but it didn’t matter.

The joy was infectious, and you found yourself swept up in the chaos, laughing and cheering along with everyone else. Sofia nudged you with her elbow, her face flushed with excitement. “We’ve gotta get to the podium!” You didn’t need to be told twice. Linking arms with her, you followed the stream of Ferrari personnel down the pitlane. Your heart pounded in your chest—not from nerves this time, but from pride and exhilaration.

As you reached the podium area, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. Thousands of fans filled the grandstands, waving Ferrari flags and chanting Rafe’s name. The energy was electric, the entire circuit seemingly united in celebration. The team’s staff ushered you and Sofia forward, guiding you both to the front row, just behind the barriers, giving you the perfect view. And then you saw him, climbing out of his car with a triumphant smile that lit up his entire face.

He threw his arms up in victory, basking in the adoration of the crowd. Your heart raced as Rafe's eyes locked onto yours in the midst of the roaring crowd. His grin widened, that familiar spark of mischief in his gaze, and he pointed directly at you. It felt like the world slowed for just a moment—just you and him, amidst the chaos.

The cameras snapped furiously, capturing the fleeting connection between you both, and a wave of pride surged through you. Without thinking, you blew him a kiss, your smile so wide it felt like your cheeks might burst from the effort. His response was immediate. With a joyful laugh and a skip in his step, Rafe jumped down from his car, making his way toward you as if nothing else in the world mattered.

As he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment, as the crowd's cheers grew louder around you. The cameras followed you both closely, documenting the raw, unfiltered joy of the moment. "You did it, baby!" you exclaimed, your voice muffled slightly by the noise around you, but the sentiment was clear.

Rafe held you close, his arms strong around your back, his helmet still on, the sweaty material of his racing suit rubbing against your skin. He laughed, a deep, satisfied sound that resonated with the energy of the victory. "Couldn’t have done it without you," he murmured, his voice low but filled with emotion. Then, with a playful grin, he lifted his visor, revealing the intensity of his eyes beneath.

You leaned up and placed a quick, soft kiss on his helmet, the action gentle and affectionate. The cameras caught the moment, and you could hear the claps and whistles of Rafe's teammates in the background. You pulled away, giggling shyly, feeling the heat rush to your face as the attention turned to you.

Rafe chuckled and pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around your waist as his team started to gather around, congratulating him, giving high-fives, and sharing the celebratory moment with the driver of the day. But even as they swarmed him, Rafe never let go of you, his hand resting possessively on your back as he basked in his well-earned victory.

[nemesyaaa]

ferrari boy !!! IT'S A WIN !! love to see F1 au's. i truly think that rafe would be in Ferrari or will have a particular case like lance stroll bc he would be a nepobaby. anyways, i love this 🙂‍↕️‼️ i want to live in monaco with my F1 racer please

F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader au masterlist

divider by @h-aewo

Ferrari's Golden Boy and his Girl

Requests are open!!!