#f1 fem!driver!oc

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: only angel [6.7k, smut]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀michaela's all alone after her first podium. ✼. notes:⠀part two to the dts episode! did i take loose inspiration from hamilton's "say no to this"? yes. did this end up being way way way too long? yes. ✼. warnings:⠀18+, mdni, general language warnings, explicit sexual content, pwp, cheating, unprotected sex, jenson has a potty mouth, cheating!

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 — tuscany, italy

Michaela stepped out of the shower, the warm water washing away the leftover champagne that stuck to her as if a second skin. Her skin glowed with the fading adrenaline of the day's exertions, the faint memory of the history made still ringing in her ears. As she toweled off, the sound of the distant Tuscan celebrations seeped into her luxurious hotel suite.

The air carried the glorious scent of victory, mingled with the faint aroma of leather and gasoline that clung to her like a signature perfume. She wrapped the delicate towel around her athletic figure, her muscles still humming from the exhilaration of the podium finish.

Her eyes scanned the room she had called home for the last week, taking in the plush, soft furnishings, the walls adorned with elegant artwork, the balcony beckoning with a breathtaking view of the vineyards the hotel boasted as being the source of their rich wine. Yet, amidst the opulence in celebration, there was a hint of loneliness.

Olivier had called her to explain his reasons for not showing up for the race weekend. She honestly didn't remember what excuse he used this time, leaving her to navigate the after-party alone. Though a nagging feeling gnawing at her loyalty reminded her of the difficulties the long-distance presented for the two of them, she traded the feeling in favor of the awaiting festivities just downstairs. She sighed, her breath misting the mirror as she readied herself for the evening ahead.

The bar was a buzz of activity, a cocktail of laughter and clinking glasses. Each face was a blur of familiarity and she felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she was watching the celebrations as a third party. The weight of the podium trophy held heavy on her heart as she found herself oddly alone. She had dreamt of this moment, but somehow the reality was bittersweet without so much as a family member, or even Olivier himself, beside her to share in the triumph.

She was more than aware Alex and Lando were off and away, likely already inebriated beyond recognition as she was intentionally late to her own after-party. Her eyes searched the room, hoping to find their friendly faces amidst the wave of strangers.

Unable to find their familiar eyes, a piercing blue-eyed gaze cut through the crowd like a knife to find hers. Jenson Button, lounged in the corner, a whiskey in hand, his eyes locked on hers. Michaela had been unaware the Brit had even been in Tuscany at all. Her mind scrambled to find an inkling of recognition of his presence at the Grand Prix but was left unable to as her mind slowly drew her attention back to the blonde former champion.

As if possessed by his gentle light, her feet carried her to the bar. A few bodies separated them as she claimed a place alongside the black and gold accented bar. Murmurs of congratulations from people she did not quite recognize were received on gracious ears and short exclamations of gratitude. Her impatience is tangible as her eyes flit back to Jenson's awaiting invitation. Unable to tear herself away from the continuous pour of well wishes and slurred speculations about that elusive Ferrari contract.

With a knowing smile, Jenson approached her, his move casual yet flooded with confidence. He leaned against the bar next to her, "Mind if I buy you a drink, Miss Sommers?" The way he spoke her name, with that hint of a smile in his voice, sent a thrill down her spine. She hadn't seen him this close since their brief interactions during her Formula 2 days nearly two years ago, and she had to admit—under the dimmed lobby lights—the years had treated him well. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that seemed to have only grown with age from his iconic days with Brawn.

"Mr. Button," she replied, her voice a soft purr, the slight buzz she carried with her from the shot of tequila Lando had convinced her to take earlier providing a humming tease to her accent. "I could never turn down a free drink."

The bartender, a young man with a wide-eyed smile in awe of the surrounding wealth, nodded at Jenson before crafting an elegant cocktail. The shaker rattled with ice against glass, a mixture of mint and lime swirling before Michaela's eyes. Jenson's own never left hers as he took the drink from the bartender, passing it to her with a nod.

"To your podium," he said, his voice smooth and direct like the whiskey in his own glass.

Michaela took the offered cocktail as a tremble of anticipation ripped through her spine. "Thank you," she whispered.

Her voice went weak as their fingertips brushing against each other's, sending a spark of excitement through her body. She took a sip, the cool cocktail a welcome contrast to the heat rising within her. She watched him over the rim of her glass, his eyes drinking in her presence. The touch of their fingers lingered in the air, unspoken words hanging like a promise between them.

"How have you been?" Jenson asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the marble floor and up her exposed legs. "I feel like I haven't really seen you this close since..." His words trail off as he catches sight of the silver 'O' that gleamed against her brown skin in dip between her clavicle bones.

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart racing as she felt his gaze linger on the necklace that Olivier had given her. It was a simple token of love, a reminder of the life she had waiting for her outside of the racing world. But, at this moment, it felt like a reminder of the invisible string tightening around her neck. She set the cocktail down, the chilled glass leaving a wet ring on the bar. "I've been busy," she replied, a chuckle leaving her lips in a whisper only heard between the two of them.

"Busy making history and such?" Jenson released a chuckle of his own. Michaela nodded softly, her eyes leaving his for the first time since he approached the Australian. Unable to keep her eyes away from his figure for too long, they lifted back up to his baby blues. The smile lines framed his face as if the borders of a portrait.

"It's quite the life to live, isn't it?" she said, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The chuckles grew into laughter between them, the sound echoing through the bar as they reminisced about their early days in the sport, exchanging stories of the grueling training and the relentless pursuit of just one less millisecond. The whiskey in Jenson's glass swirled in rhythm with their conversation, the golden liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight adorning the sides of the bar like a liquid fire. A fire that mimicked the one filling her to the brim with a tensioned heat.

Michaela felt a strange, overwhelming comfort in Jenson's presence, one that was oddly familiar yet thrillingly new. His stories of his own glory days painted a picture of a man who had been where she was, a man who understood the highs and lows of the world she loved so dearly but could hurt her so deeply. A man who understood things Olivier could never dream of understanding.

His words danced around the topic of her personal life, hinting without asking, and she found herself leaning closer, eager to escape the shadow of Olivier's absence.

"You know," Jensen said, his eyes darkening slightly as they searched hers, "Sometimes you need to enjoy the moment, without the noise of everyone else around you." His words brushed against her ear as he leaned down towards her as if selecting his words for her ears alone.

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. The warmth of his breath against her ear sent another shiver of want and anticipation down her spine. "All alone?" she quizzed, her voice a careful whisper. If they remembered they were in a public setting, it didn't show. The curtain of attention surrounding them seemed to fade away as Jenson's fingers reached out to brush gently against Michaela's silver adorned wrist.

"I've got a room upstairs," he offered, his voice a seductive invitation that seemed to dance on the very edge of propriety and good behavior. "It's quieter. We can...talk."

Michaela can barely bring herself to laugh at the mischievous glimmer in his eyes in extension of the invitation. "Talk?" Is all she can muster before taking in a deep breath that visibly raises and lowers her chest.

Their eyes lock in an answer as the silence stretches out between them, charged with the weight of their unspoken desires. The room seems to hold its breath, the laughter and chatter of the celebrations fading away into a very distant hum.

Michaela's hand lingers on her cocktail, her fingertips leaving their prints on the glass. She considers his proposal, the promise of a private, intimate space calling to her in a way that she hadn't anticipated being so keen to accept. The hotel room upstairs, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of her colleagues, various C-listers, and the sponsors that adorn the sides of their carbon fiber machines. The suffocating weight of her own thoughts leaves her with little breath to gasp. With Olivier so far away, the choice—so close to her—feels almost irresistible.

Jenson's hand moved from its place atop the bar to Michaela's waist. His touch was feather-light as it brushed over the material of her satin mini-dress. The action is casual as if he had no worry about the prying eyes that Michaela tended to draw over to her considering her position in the sport. Tonight of all nights was a night she should have been on her best behavior. She should have been circling the room, schmoozing with the donors, and sharing glasses of champagne with her much drunker rivals. Instead, she was held captive to Jenson's wiles. The heat of his gaze as it swept over her figure drew a heat into her face.

Suddenly she was grateful for the low lighting of the crowded hotel lobby.

Then, with a nod of her head, she set her cocktail down and allowed him to lead her away from the thrumming bar. His hand slipped to the small of her back, a gesture that felt far too intimate for the public atmosphere of the after-party dedicated to her success. The warmth of his palm sizzled through the too-thin fabric of her black dress and the coolness of the air-conditioned lobby did little to dissipate the heat sizzling between the two drivers.

The elevator ride to his suite was an eternity, the air thick with unspoken desire. The gentle rock of their movements as they ascended in the elevator seemed to mirror the tumultuous waves crashing within her. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tornado of 'what if' and 'should I' that she couldn't quite contain.

As if he sensed the uneasiness that permeated through the younger woman, Jenson's hands grasped her body, pulling her flush against his solid physicality. Releasing her for a split moment, his steady hands reached for her lowered chin. Pulling her attention back onto him, there was no need for words to be exchanged in the quiet elevator. Within another split second, his lips were on hers in a heated dance.

Michaela's eyes fluttered shut as she felt her knees buckle into his embrace. Her hands found his shirt, gripping tightly as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss of temptation that was Jenson Button. The action only brought him closer to her, pushing her infinitely closer to danger. His kiss was everything she hadn't known she craved: firm, confident, and hungry for more, more, more. It was a stark contrast to Olivier's smooth pecks, which had grown routine with time.

Desperate to feel impossibly closer, Michaela's fingers tangled in his dirty blonde locks. Wisps of her white manicured nails interlocked within his curls as her head fell back against the elevator walls with a moan. His lips attached themselves to the edge of her jaw, leaving sloppy kisses down the column of her neck. His right hand raised to cup one of her breasts, drawing another gasp of his name from her lips raw from the hungry kisses they shared. With a growl, Jenson grasped the back of her thighs, squeezing with an urgency unfamiliar to Michaela. Another moan and their lips were back together, Jenson's hands wandering along her backside squeezing occasionally before chuckling at her surprised whines and whispers.

When the elevator chimed, signaling their arrival, they broke apart, unwilling and breathless. The corridor was a blur as Jensen guided her to his suite, his hand never leaving her lower back as if she were a piece of art he was afraid to smudge. As they finally reached his door, Jenson maneuvered the smaller woman to stand in front of him. One hand fumbled for his key card while the other dipped underneath the skirt of her dress, gently playing with the hem of her lace panties. Michaela's hands reached up behind her, embedding themselves in Jenson's golden salted locks, tugging against them whenever his fingers swept against her heated skin.

"Jens," She gasped with a moan as a finger slipped into her underwear to toy at her folds. Her eyes rolled back as the anticipation of his touch crashed over her like a wave.

His response was a sultry, "I know", that makes her lose all sense of direction.

"If you don't get this door open..." She began to threaten. The words die on her lips as he presses his cock against her backside, the force pushing her against the locked door.

"Fuck..." She drawled out with another desperate moan, her hands falling to rest in front of her, steadying herself after the sudden movement.

"If I don't get this door open, I'll fuck you right here against this door for everyone to see." Jenson offered with a threat of his own. Feeling her arousal as it seeped through the delicate lace was enough to help him find the strength to wrestle the door open finally.

The door closed with a gentle click behind them, and suddenly, the world outside was gone. The noises of the hotel were swallowed up by the thick carpet beneath her heels. The weight of their encounter grew heavier in the quiet, luxurious room all the way up on the fifteenth floor.

Michaela looked around the suite, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and anticipation. The grandeur of the space was lost on her as Jensen's hand found hers, leading her through the dark space. The lights of the city center below them flooded into the room with a romantic light. Her heart raced, her thoughts racing faster than the car she'd driven onto podium position earlier that day—or the day before—she wasn't sure she could think clearly with the haze of lust lingering over her. The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow that reflected off the polished surfaces, giving the space a warm, inviting feel. The king-sized bed at the center was untouched, the sheets a crisp white, a stark contrast to the dirty thoughts swirling between them.

Jenson's hand slid around her waist, his thumb tracing the line of her hipbone as they approached the edge of the crisp bed. He pushed her gently, and she fell backward, the mattress enveloping her in a cloud of lust. He stood over her, his body a shadow in the dim light, his eyes burning into her wide-eyed soul. The warmth of his hands as they slid up her legs sent a delicious shiver through her body, drawing an exhale out of her that brought a smirk to his face. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her feel powerful, desired—like she could conquer any race he put her in.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. The tender touch sent waves of heat through her body, pooling at her core. She squirmed beneath him, eager and begging for more, but he took his sweet time.

"Patience, my love." He hummed against her skin. A longing whine left her lips before she could process the sensation he sent wracking through her.

His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, the light pressure making her arch up into his touch. Her hands found his hair again, tugging him closer, urging him on. His tongue followed the path his hand had laid, circling the edge of her panties before slipping them off.

Michaela's breath caught in her throat as she watched him spread her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt vulnerable and exposed in the best way possible, as if she were laying bare not just her body but her soul. His mouth was a warm promise against her flesh, the contrast of his soft tongue against her sensitive skin driving her wild. She could feel her arousal growing, coating his lips as he kissed and licked at her.

"God," He groaned against her. The vibrations of his words sent shocks through her as her head pressed back deeper into the lush pillows beneath her. "You taste so good for me." Lost in a daze of need, Michaela could barely find the words to respond to his praise.

The first touch of his tongue to her clit was electric, sending a jolt through her that made her back arch off the bed. Her hands tightened in his hair, urging him to continue, as she let out a guttural moan. Still without words to respond to him, Jenson took his sweet time, teasing her mercilessly with his mouth, exploring every inch of her until she was panting and begging for more.

The tension grew unbearable, her body tightening like a coil ready to snap. "Stay still for me." He muttered between kisses to her most sensitive parts. "Wanna make you feel good. Gonna make you feel real good." The whispers exchanged between their ears only served to increase the intimacy of the situation.

As Jenson's hips pressed into the bed to relieve the stiffness of his straining cock, Michaela's eyes opened to meet his staring back up at her from between her open legs.

"Fuck—" She sobbed at the sight.

"Hmm, ah!" She cried as his thumb reached out to draw circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yeah?" He drew out, pulling her legs impossibly wider as they threatened to close around his head.

Michaela still couldn't find the words to respond, her body lost in the intensity of sensations he brought as he worked her over. The strokes of his tongue grew faster, harder, each one bringing her closer to the edge. Her nails dug into his scalp, her body writhing under his seasoned touch. The room filled with the sounds of her gasps and moans, a sweet soundtrack that grew louder as she neared climax.

As her legs began to shake, Michaela released a high pitched moan, one that instantly drew a groan out of Jenson in shock her voice could sound that whiny, that desperate, for him.

"Shit! I'm gonna—" Her words cut off once more as the trembles ripping through her signaled she was close to her first orgasm. "Please don't stop." She hummed, almost babbling nonsense as Jenson worked through the thread that threatened to snap inside the pit of her belly.

He hummed from between her legs, "That's it, love." His head raised from its position as his fingers replaced his lips. Fucking into her walls at a pace that leaves her unable to form any kind of discernable sentence.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she stifled a scream. The orgasm ripped through her like a tornado, leaving her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He watched her, his eyes hooded with desire as he stroked her through it, his hand moving almost lazily.

"Good girl," He whispered out into the night. As his head dipped down at the feeling of a sudden chill he realizes Michaela's wetness has dripped down over his fingers. A gentle, "Fuck, Michaela, baby, you're dripping all over me."

With a laugh, Michaela comes down from her high suddenly shy in the older man's arms.

"It's just my way of complimenting you." She giggled before running a manicured hand through her tousled dyed locks.

Her face flushed in half embarrassment and half lust as she pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch Jenson lift his arousal coated fingers to his lips. He kept a hold over her attention as he sucked her essence from his fingers before rising from his spot on the bed to stand on his feet.

"Think you can do it again on my cock?" He mused with a raised eyebrow. With a playful roll of her eyes, Michaela nodded, unable to respond verbally—that seemed to be a recurring theme.

Catching her completely off guard with a squeal, Jenson pulled her by her bare legs to the edge of the bed. Stood in between her wide legs, he begins to work at the buttons of his pressed dress shirt. At the sight of the former champion undressing, Michaela finds the strength to rise to her feet. The four inches Jenson has over her are just enough for her hands to bat his away to undo the buttons herself.

Her careful fingers make quick work of the shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and revealing the chiseled abs and the dusting of hair that trails from his chest down to the waistline of his trousers. She runs her hand over his stomach, feeling the muscles beneath her touch. His eyes lock onto hers, and she sees that familiar hunger back in his gaze, the same hunger that she feels return deep within her core.

"I'm all yours, superstar." He whispers into her ear as his head dips to attach his lips to the length of her neck. "Take me however you want. Just wanna celebrate you for being so good." 

His words coupled with his actions sent another wave of arousal crashing over the Alfa Romeo driver. 

"So talented." He adds, accenting the compliment with a kiss that sweeps Michaela away from whatever thoughts she had left in her distracted head.

Her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, a task she hadn't done in what feels like an eternity. The clink of the metal echoes around the room as it hits the carpeted floor. A thrill runs through her as she feels his hard cock pressing against her stomach through the fabric of his boxers. Her eyes never leave his as she takes the fabric in her hands and pulls it down, freeing him to stand tall before her.

Michaela's breath hitches in her throat at the sight of him. Jensen is a beautiful man, sculpted by the years of rigorous physical training and his unmistakable British charm. Her eyes take in the full length of him, a silent appreciation before she takes him in one of her hands.

"You're so pretty," She murmured out to him as he released a hiss in reaction to the soft touch to his stiff length.

"Me or my cock?" He spoke mirthfully as he relished in the feeling of one of her hands on his sensitive muscle and the other finding a familiar place in his tousled graying hair.

"Both." Michaela responded with the most decisiveness in her voice since they had arrived upstairs. They share another laugh before Jenson moans out loud for the first time all night.

With a flutter of kisses to the length of his strong, clenched jaw, Michaela took in the sight of him all pliant in her grasp. The man in front of her was straight out of a fantasy. Never in all her years of pining over the man did she ever envision herself in his position. Blissed out of her mind from his fingers and drawing him to the edge of orgasm.

Jenson's hands found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down her body with a gentle force. As she watched him, her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath as the fabric fell away, exposing her naked body to the coolness of the room. Her hand stilled on his cock as he gathered her straightened hair into a makeshift ponytail. With a forceful yank, he pressed her naked body against his, slipping his tongue into her mouth as it fell open with a moan.

The light kisses grew into a trail of heat down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts. His tongue flicked over one of her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine as it hardened to a tight peak. A manicured hand reached down to cup at one of his heavy balls, a mixture of their moans mingling into a dance in the heavy air.

Michaela took the opportunity to guide him backward until he laid on the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees on either side of his hips, her body hovering over his. Her eyes never left his as she took his length into her grasp. The feel of him pressing into her soaked cunt was intoxicating, the sound of his labored breathing music to her ears.

With a gentle squeeze of his base, she began to slide down his cock. The feeling of him stretching her was nothing short of glorious, the burn of his size between her thighs a delicious punishment for the temptations she had been resisting from the moment his eyes locked on hers downstairs in the bar. With a whiny groan, she took him in inch by inch, her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby." He encouraged her as she took him in. His strong hands grasped at the skin of her waist, gently providing an aid to guide her down, filling her to the brim. As she bottomed out, they both released a share of breath they had both held in.

Michaela began to rock her hips in a steady swirl that grew more desperate with every second. Jenson's eyes rolled back in his head, his moans growing louder as she worked herself over him. The sound of his pleasure drew sounds of her own as she began to bounce over him gently. One of his hands drift down to palm at her firm ass, squeezing at the skin before catching her completely off guard with a spank to the perky muscle. Her abs contract as a loud moan rips through her throat to goad her on to bounce faster in pursuit of a shared high.

Their rhythm grew to match the beating of their hearts—fast and erratic. The bed squeaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall in a pattern that surely could be heard outside the suite. But neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was the view of each other, blissed out, horny, and chasing the high that seemed to be within their fingertips.

"I'm so close, baby." Jenson grunts, his head falling back against the pillows as his hands squeeze at Michaela's curves. "Come for me, yeah? Be a good fucking girl and come all over me." His words only serve to push Michaela further to the brink of total insanity, the only thing relevant in her mind is the pursuit of pleasure.

"Wanna be good for you," She whined, "Need to come for you." Jenson hummed in appreciation as a hand reached between their bodies to toy with her overstimulated clit.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open as she began to feel the beginnings of another earth-shattering orgasm. She threw her head back, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her moans grew louder with every thrust.

Jenson's words of encouragement did little to quiet the loud moans that escaped Michaela's mouth. Her hips stuttered above his as she ground down into him before the current of her orgasm ripped through her totally.

"Jens—Jens—Oh my fucking god, Jens—" She stuttered, her voice growing higher pitched with every passing second. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest, leaving red marks that stood out against his tanned skin.

With one final, powerful thrust, Jenson felt himself let go. His cock twitched inside her, filling her up with ropes of his warm, thick cum. The feeling of her pussy tightening around him as she came was more than he could handle. He groaned her name into the darkness, his eyes rolling back as his hips jerked upward involuntarily. Michaela's thighs held him hostage as she continued to whine out into the dark, completely uninhibited by the warm rush of her orgasm as it coursed through her.

Her walls tightened around him as she milked him for every drop of his cum. The warmth of his release inside her only heightened her own pleasure as it sent aftershocks through her body. She collapsed onto him, her breasts pressed against his chest as she struggled to catch her breath. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as their hearts raced together. He murmured faint words of appreciation into her ear as his palms pressed into her sweaty back, massaging the knots from the strain of her two orgasms.

Their bodies remained intertwined for several moments, basking in the afterglow. The room was silent except for their heavy breaths and the occasional twitch of his cock inside her. The smell of sex filled the air, thick and potent, a stark contrast to the prior freshness of the untouched hotel suite.

Michaela leaned her forehead against Jenson's neck, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her skin. "I can't believe that just happened." She whispered, her voice still strained from the exertion.

Jenson could only laugh in response, his hand still traced patterns over her brown skin. "I heard you had a major crush on me back in the day. I figured I'd test the waters, see if that crush still held up." When he received a scoff in return as Michaela slowly freed herself from his hold to lay to his side, Jenson laughed again.

"I'm serious!"

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Button," She grinned up at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the drink. You know, properly."

Jenson's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're welcome, Sommers. Anytime you need celebrating, you know where to find me."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy. "I'll keep that in mind." She rolled onto her side to observe the outline of his features. The warmth of his body left a ghostly imprint on the cooling sheets. The silence that followed was filled with a new kind of tension, one that was more comfortable, more intimate than the frantic passion that had brought them to this moment.

Jenson's fingers trailed lazily over her bare shoulder, sending shivers down her spine. "So, what's next for you?" He asked, breaking the quiet.

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "The Russian Grand Prix, in two weeks." She said, her voice still a little breathless. "I need to keep this momentum going, prove I'm not just a one-hit wonder."

Jenson nodded, his hand still playing with the sensitive skin of her shoulder. "And what about the boyfriend?" He asked, his voice a gentle caress despite the panic that sets into her body.

Michaela swallowed hard, the mention of Olivier bringing a sharpness to the air. She couldn't hide the shock she felt when she realized that Jenson knew more about her than she had previously thought. "What about him?" She asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Jenson leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear as he whispered, "Is he going to be okay with this?" He didn't miss the way her body stiffened at the question, the way her breath hitched. "I know you're an adult, love, but I want to make sure you're not going to get hurt."

Michaela rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling, her chest still heaving from their exertion. She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before speaking. "It's complicated." She finally said. "But I can handle it."

Jenson studied her for a moment before nodding his head. "I know you can." He leaned in to kiss her cheek before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But remember, if you ever need anything—anything at all—I'm here for you."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify. Gratitude? Lust? The aftermath of their encounter had left her feeling more than a little vulnerable. She watched him as he walked naked across the suite to grab a bottle of water from the minibar. The moonlight played over the muscles of his back, highlighting the scars from years of racing.

"Thanks, Jenson." She murmured, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand. "For everything."

He settled back onto the bed beside her, his cock still half-hard from their encounter just moments before. "Don't worry about me." He took a swig from the bottle before passing it back to her. "You deserve to be celebrated."

Michaela took a sip, the cool water soothing her parched throat. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of Olivier so far away doing God knows what instead of being at her side. "What about you?" She asked, changing the subject. "What's next for you?"

Jenson took another gulp from the bottle before setting it aside. "Well, I'm technically retired from racing now," he said with a shrug. "But I've got plenty of things to keep me busy. Commentary, appearances, the occasional Le Mans race. It's a calmer life." His eyes searched hers, a silent question hanging in the air.

Michaela nodded, understanding the unspoken inquiry. "Yeah, I can imagine. Must be a big change after being in the thick of it for so long." As Jenson considered his response, he drew the Alfa Romeo driver into his body. With her head rested upon his broad chest, he pulled one of her thighs to rest over his. Then, hand found hers, threading their fingers together.

"It is, but I don't miss the pressure. It's nice to be able to enjoy the sport without the weight of the world on my shoulders."

Michaela nodded, her mind racing with questions about his life outside of Formula 1. "What's it like? Watching from the sidelines?"

Jenson's thumb traced circles over the back of her hand, the gesture brought an unfamiliar comfort to her conscience. "It's different, sure," he said, his eyes drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the moonlit Tuscan landscape. "But I've had my time in the spotlight. Now, I get to enjoy the sport in a new way."

Michaela turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow. "Do you ever miss it?" She asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

Jenson looked at her, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a small smile. "Every now and then," he admitted. "But I've had my time in the sun. Now, I get to see the next generation take over and make their own history." His eyes searched hers, a hint of admiration sparkling in his gaze. "And you, my darling, are going to be a big part of that history."

Michaela felt a blush creep up her face at his words, her heart swelled with a mix of pride and bashfulness. She knew she had more than enough talent, but the fear of not living up to the hype of being the first was always present. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome," he replied, his own voice a little hoarse from their earlier passion. He leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. The heat in Michaela's cheeks only continued to warm. "But it's not just my opinion. You're genuinely brilliant behind the wheel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone drive with the precision you have."

The truth in his words washed over her, filling her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the post-orgasm glow. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "That means a lot coming from you."

Jenson's smile grew, his eyes tender as they searched hers. "You know, I always had a soft spot for you, even when you were tearing it up in F2 against Leclerc." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "You've got a fire in you, Mick. Don't ever let anyone dull it. Not even that idiot you call a boyfriend."

Michaela felt the weight of his words, a strange mix of comfort and accusation that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't know him," she murmured defensively, even though she knew he was right.

"Maybe not," Jenson conceded lowly, "But he should be here with you. I know what it's like to love this sport. And if he doesn't support you, if he doesn't understand what you're fighting for, then he's not the one for you."

Michaela remained silent, his words echoing through the quiet hotel room. The cool breeze from the open window blew with the curtains, the only sound aside from their measured breathing. The truth in his statement stung, but she couldn't deny the truth in his support, the way his arms felt around her, and the comfort in his voice. She knew that Olivier had his own ambitions, his own disappointments with his racing career to work through, but they were starting to feel like they were in different worlds.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her thoughts. "I know," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to the ceiling. "But it's complicated."

A moment of silence enveloped the two lovers before Michaela's eyes drifted back to see Jenson's eyes already focused on her face. Pushing aside her shyness as she offered a hummed joke, "He's French. Everything's complicated with them."

Jenson's chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a thrill through her as she felt his hand caress her bare side. "Well, you're a woman in Formula 1. I'd say you know a thing or two about complicated." His hand grew bolder, stroking her hip, pulling her closer.

Michaela couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of calm with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else. "You're not wrong," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Jenson leaned over, kissing her gently on the lips, the taste of her own slick still lingering on his mouth. "If you need anything, you know where to find me," he whispered as his thumb brushed against her tanned cheek.

Michaela nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the touch. She knew that she was playing with fire, but the warmth of his embrace felt too good to resist. "What happens next?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper against the stillness of the night.

Jenson leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. "Whatever you want, my love," he replied, his voice a gentle caress. "Whatever you want."

Michaela felt a thrill run through her at his words. Her hand trailed down his chest, playing with the patch of hair that grew from his navel to his pelvis. "I want you," she murmured, the words coming out with surprising ease.

Jenson's eyes darkened with desire, and he rolled her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs. He took his time, kissing her neck and her collarbone, his teeth lightly grazing her skin. His cock was already on the way to being hard again, a testament to his endurance. "I'm all yours," he breathed against her ear, his hands cupping her face as he stared into her eyes.

✼. taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@thearchieves @doodlehunz @evie-119

@bxdbxtxh @seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn

@99snse @ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut

@hiireadstuff @emilyval1 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearyyyy

@melancholyy-hill @vallusvsu @futuristiccroissantlampsludge

@treehouse-mouse @sunfairyy

[turn3tifosi]

FROM THE ANGELS

i. THE FERRARI DREAM

Hungary, 2022

The voice of Alex Jacques echoes like the end of the world, circling the track as the cars scream into the final lap. Ausilia de Angelis, Ferrari’s young lioness, dances with destiny, carving her name into the air, leading the race like it was always hers. The past six races bow before her, and she’s hungry—hungry for the points she’s about to steal from Felipe Drugovich, the man who chases shadows in the championship.

And then it happens.

The world cracks open. She crosses the line, and the earth stands still. Seven. Seven times the victor. The Prema pit explodes, red and white and joyous. Theo Pourchaire—fourth to second—follows her ghost, and Ayumu Iwasa, eyes like fire, claims third.

The circuit breathes out. The race is over. Spa waits on the other side of summer.

"Oh my God, that was fun!" Ausilia’s voice is a storm, a whirlwind, as she crashes into her team, arms and laughter and victory all tangled up. She turns, the chaos in her chest finding its rhythm, and she leaps—into the arms of Lucrezia Cattaneo, the woman who believes in her like she’s gravity. "I’m so proud of you, tesoro mio," Lucrezia whispers, but it’s not really a whisper. It’s the sound of the sun setting on a perfect day.

Later, after the world has quieted and the night has taken over, they drive back to the hotel. The road is dark, but there’s light between them. “You’re going to Maranello this week?” Lucrezia asks, her eyes fixed ahead, searching for something only she can see. Ausilia, for once, doesn’t have the answer. She shrugs, letting the silence fill the car like water in a glass. “It’s the start of the summer break. I’d rather not see their faces, not yet. They haven’t called.” But she knows, somewhere deep, that the call is coming, and when it does come, it won’t be joyous.

Summer Break, 2022

Ausilia never expected a calm summer break, not after what she and Lucrezia had set into motion. The summer break was supposed to be a breath, a pause—but the first day, and already the phone rings, and the mood shatters like glass.

“Have you terminated your contract with Ferrari?” The voice on the other end is calm, too calm.

“Not yet,” Ausilia replies, her voice steady, though the storm inside her builds. “I haven’t been to Maranello since last Monday. Why?”

A chuckle from the other side, low and knowing. “You were right about them. I’m at the gala, and certain Italians are whispering in corners, telling potential sponsors that you’re only winning because Prema’s given you the faster car. They’re trying to sway me, push me toward Ferrari, and away from you.”

Ausilia’s eyes narrow, the fire beneath her cool words sparking. “Any team gives the faster car to the better driver. If they’re saying that, it just proves they know I’m the better one.”

There’s a beat of silence, the tension thick even across the distance, then the question comes, sharp and decisive. “Should we contact your future team for the sponsorship deal?”

She lets the question hang in the air, measuring it against the chaos she knows is coming. “Not yet,” she finally says, each word a deliberate step. “There’s going to be drama this summer. Let’s not tip our hand too soon.”

As she’s about to end the call, another ring cuts through the quiet, the name on the screen making her groan. Marco Matassa (FDA Head). Of course. The devil always knows when to appear. “Looks like I’ll be heading to Maranello sooner than I thought.”

She cuts the call, lets the phone ring unanswered until it stops. A message pops up, cold as a command: “Drive to Maranello tomorrow. The team wants to discuss your future. Bring your manager.”

And just like that, the storm begins.

Ausilia woke early the next morning, shedding the Ferrari red for something that spoke in whispers rather than shouts—something fashionable, defiant in its simplicity. The day held a certain weight, and she dressed for the part, not as a driver but as something else, something more.

She left her apartment and picked up Lucy, who was waiting with a smile that knew too much. “Excuse they’ll use. Just one. Closest guess gets an extra slice of pizza tonight,” Lucy offered, a game to pass the time, to cut through the tension that hung between them. Ausilia laughed, the sound sharp and bright in the morning light.

As the engine roared to life, Ausilia waved her hand with mock drama, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “There’s just no seats in F1.”

Lucy turned serious, eyes narrowing as she thought it through. “I don’t think they’ll use something so blatant. They’re not that stupid, are they? My guess—something about how F2 and F1 are worlds apart, and just because you dominated F2 doesn’t mean you’ll succeed in F1.”

Ausilia’s laugh came again, this time darker, edged with something bitter. “If they go with that, they’d be proving just how stupid they are.”

The drive from Modena to Maranello was only half an hour, but it felt longer, like the road itself was stretching out, trying to delay the inevitable. When she finally pulled into Ferrari’s parking lot, she did it in a Porsche, not a Ferrari, each moment of defiance deliberate, each choice a statement. No team polo, no red, no shield. Just a rival’s car gleaming in the enemy’s territory.

She knew what she was doing, knew the risks. But if this was the end, she would go out on her own terms. What better way to say goodbye than to flaunt a rival's machine when she had spent her time as a Ferrari Driver Academy member refusing to touch any of their own?

As Ausilia slid into her seat at the head of the table, Marco Matassa, the head of FDA, and Mattia Binotto, Scuderia Ferrari’s Team Principal, rose in a slow, deliberate dance of formality.

The room crackled with tension. The Porsche in the parking lot was an unwelcome guest in a sea of Ferraris, a silent proclamation of defiance. Everyone knew who it belonged to.

Ausilia, draped in dramatic anticipation, knew exactly what was coming. But drama was her craft; she was here to see how they would script this act.

“Apologies for the Porsche. Lucy’s car is in the shop.” She offered a smile, disarmingly serene, as if it might soften the blows to come. If these men weren’t bracing for the conversation ahead, they might have laughed, dismissed it as a trivial matter.

“You can sit down, you know,” Lucy’s voice was a gentle chime, the kind of sound that seemed to make the air around them a little lighter.

Marco gestured to Mattia, urging him to take a seat while he remained standing, his eyes locked onto Ausilia. “You are an incredible talent for Ferrari.” The words were like a well-rehearsed lie, and Ausilia almost laughed, because of course she was a talent—but not for them, not anymore. She smiled back, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Unfortunately,” Mattia cut in, his impatience a jagged edge, “we don’t have any seats in Formula One. Carlos and Charles are locked in until the end of 2024.”

“The pizza’s mine,” Ausilia whispered to Lucrezia, the words a secret promise as she turned her attention back to Marco and Mattia. “Haas have a seat, don’t they?”

An uneasy silence settled over the room, the kind that lingers after a question too sharp. Marco finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of practiced indifference. “Haas won’t take another FDA driver. They don’t want to be seen as Ferrari’s junior team.”

Lucy’s eyes sharpened, her voice cutting through the pretense. “So despite Ausilia’s domination of F2 and F3, she’s to remain grounded? What kind of academy can’t even pave the way for its own drivers?”

Marco took a breath, as if steadying himself. “It might be better for her career if she’s not branded with Ferrari. Let’s terminate the contract—it will make it easier for her to find a seat elsewhere.”

Lucy winced, her patience fraying. Did these men really think they could pull the wool over their eyes? Getting an F1 seat without an F1 team backing her was going to be a fight, especially as a woman.

But Lucy mirrored Ausilia’s façade of ignorance, agreeing with the men with a tone that dripped with feigned logic. “Well, at least you’re being practical.”

Ausilia walked into Ferrari headquarters as an FDA driver and left as just another driver. The weight of the label lifted from her shoulders, but a shadow of sadness lingered. Despite her plans for a Formula One career, a part of her—the part that had dreamed of driving for Scuderia—felt the sting of loss.

[poppyflower-22]

His Girl.

Part 1

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. I've had this in my head for a while and while I write on Wattpad normally, I'm taking a brake because of some nasty things said to me about my writing.

Masterlist

2020

Lando was on another high from another podium that weekend in Australia. He was at the bar ordering another drink, when he looked across the bar, he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

She was wearing a short black dress. Her makeup and hair were just right, and she was wearing a silver chain necklace. She was sipping a Vodka Cruiser. Not a care in the world.

He thanks the bartender and makes his way over to her. He sat down bedside her. She didn't even give him a glance.

"Not interested." She spoke. And God Lando fell in love her voice. It was British. But her voice was so soft.

Lando clocked an eyebrow, "I didn't even say anything." He chuckled.

She sighed and turned to look at him. "You were going to hit on me and hoped I would end up in your bed by the end of the night. No?" She bluntly spoke with her eye raised.

Lando just stared at her in aww. Because maybe that was the case but not now. He could tell she was interesting person already. There was a spark in her eyes, of mystery and fun. She interested him very much. "Okay maybe your right." He smirked at her. "But how about I just buy you another drink?" He asked.

She wouldn't say it out loud, but he was handsome. "Fine." She sighed and Lando flagged down the bartender. The bartender gave her a nod as he left to get her drink.

"So, what's your name, love?" He asked turning his seat to face her.

She copied him. He was interesting. Mostly when she said no, the guy would walk away or start being aggressive. But not him. "Bonnie." She smiled.

"No last name?" He asked with a curious look. He watched as she brushed her black hair out her face and smiled at him.

"Salvatore." She reposed with a small smile. "Yours mystery man?" She asked taking a sip of her drink.

"Lando. Lando Norris." He spoke. He watched as she studied him.

"The formal one race driver?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Lando nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Did you watch the race?" he couldn't but ask.

Bonnie shook her head, "Oh no, my father loved F1." She smiled. She loved her father and talking about wasn't a sad thing. Despite the life they lived.

"Oh sorry."

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago." She reassured him with a hand on his hand. "But he was a Ferrari fan." She teased knowing he is a McLaren driver.

"Oh." He teased placing his hand on his heart. "Not Ferrari." They both laughed. Bonnie's hand was till on his and Lando started cresting without knowing. "Who's your favorite team?" He couldn't help but ask.

Bonnie smirked, "Red Bull." She told and watched with a beaming smile as he fakes a hurt look.

"Now that hurts. Right here." He spoke in fake sadness as he pointed to his heart. They both giggled with each other. "I'll get you to change your team at the end of the night." He boldly told her.

Bonnie shook her head with a smile. "Tell me something about you. No race talk. I can tell you don't want to talk about it." She said to him.

Lando chuckled, that was right he didn't want to talk about his driving right now. He wanted to know this girl right in front of him.

"I hate sea food." He told her and couldn't help but wrinklie his noes up at the thought of it.

Bonnie chuckled. She liked it. Not her favorite but she could have in curtain things. "Really. Why?" She rested her elbow on the bar and her chin rested in her hand to look at him.

Lando shook his head, "Just don't. Don't like the texture." He explained. "Do you?"

She hummed. "I can have it in curtain things, But not all the time." She told him and took a sip of her drink.

"Tell me something about yourself." Lando spoke as he watched her.

"I can speak Five languages." She smirked and watched his eyes widen.

"Wow. What are they?'

"Dunch, French, Russian, Latin and Japanese." She smiled

Lando leaned back in aww. "Wow I can't even learn a new language. Never mind five." He spoke impressed. She kept getting better to him.

She was everything he ever wanted in a girl. And not in a cocky way. in a more, he has found the one for him way. She was witty and he could just tell that she would be fun to have around.

Bonnie shrugged, "I was a homeschooled kid. My father was traveling everywhere, and I guess I just picked it up." She told him.

"You might need to come with me to my racers, you can be my spokesperson." He teased. Bonnie chuckled.

"Let's not get ahead of our self-Mr. Norris." She teased with a smirk. Their hands were still together.

Lando giggled with her. He watched in aww as she giggled. "Your very beautiful." He couldn't help but blurt out.

Bonnie blushed. She never blushed. She looked down and when she looked up Lando was smiling at her. Not smirking at her, like he was happy with his comment. No, he smiles like he was admiring her and her beauty.

And he was.

"You're not bad." She shot back with a smile. And it widened as she saw him blush.

They both sat there with blushing cheeks. That night they talked all night. They had found themselves at ease with each other. It was easy to just talk and not be judged.

Bonnie couldn't help but be attracted to him. And not just by his looks but by how he talked about his family. His hobbies and generally. He was the life of the party but deep inside there was a whole different side to him.

Lando was in love by the end of the night. He had found she was a businesswoman, running her own company and traveled for work. He had found her easy to talk to. He had found she had a poodle dog and loved him more than anything.

That night they had formed a connection that would make and break them. For better and for worse.

But no matter the outcome maybe love can overcome it all. After all, if you love someone you love all of them or not at all.

This is going to be a short series. You can request other things as well.

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 , 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

summary , a language barrier never stop them when they met and it evidently isn't stopping them now

pairing , lewis hamilton x fem! tukish! actress! reader

main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist

lewishamilton . 17hrs ago

seen by yourinstagram landonorris 56,278,478 others

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton charles_leclerc 68,862,623 others

yourinstagram bir yıl daha seninle çok daha fazla anılarımız olacak

another year so many more memories with you

view comments

user my parents

lewishamilton Aşkım ❤️ my love ❤️

lewishamilton Umarım seni sonsuza dek parçalanana kadar severim I hope to love you till forever falls apart

user god I don't know if I wanna be their child or their little bitch

user step on me 😩

user mommy daddy? sorry mommy daddy? sorry mommy daddy? sorry

user god really does have favourites 😭

user iconic.

user my Roman Empire 🫡

user THE f1 it couple

user turkish people 🤝 british people

user the fact that lewis is rizzing my girl up in turkish has me so jealous WHEN WILL IT BE ME 😔

user god I have seen what you have done for others

user hot people stan Y/N and Lewis 😌

user the healthiest realtionship ever ✊🏼

user the fact that mercedes has 3 power couples is kinda iconic 💅

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─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Hello, could you please place an order? I would like something where Lewis H. and his partner are talked about on the internet about how they like physical contact and how loving they are towards each other. If you do, thank you very much. P.s. Your Lewis and the Princess imagine is my favorite. ❤❤

anon ─ ooohh imagine one of the drivers meeting someone in one of the countries they go to and immediately being smitten but readers english isn’t great and them using google translate and gestures to help communicate with eachother

[sebscore]

gen z!reader is this sweet, bubbly, bright ray of sunshine who could honestly do no wrong, so I'd love to see a fic where in a driver's meeting gen z!reader loses their shit and calls out the FIA for their blatant sexism and misogyny in front of everyone and everyone is shocked cause they've never seen them gets this mad before.

NO ONE LIKES A MAD WOMAN

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (+ cameos from brundle, susie and buxton) 

warnings: sexism. fia is fia'ing. swearing. my own unaccurate ruling of penalties (it's for the sake of the story, just go along with it). susie mothering. it wasn't sure to me who conducted the driver's briefing during this time so I just picked a random name from the many that I came across. 

author's note: less comedic one this time, hope you enjoy it anyway! 

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Alright, thanks for clarifying, Checo.'' Derek concluded, glancing down at his journal to see what the next topic of discussion was. 

The director scratched his voice before addressing the drivers again. ''Uhm, we also wanted to remind everyone to be wary of what they say in the media regarding our organization,'' he stated, ''the FIA has the feeling that there have been deliberate attacks on them the last few weeks and they are willing to give out penalties if it happens again.'' 

The drivers looked at each other, confused by the sudden declaration that the FIA has been receiving ''attacks'' from the drivers. ''Can you give an example, because I think I speak for everyone when I say that I'm confused.'' George spoke up, the others nodding along to his question. 

Derek flipped through his papers, trying to find the notes his colleagues had given him regarding the ''offensive'' comments that had been made against them. 

''Oh, here,'' he put on his reading glasses, holding the piece of paper farther from his face, ''the comment they're referring to was one made by… Y/N at the previous race.'' 

The young woman's head sprung up at the mention of her name, clueless as to how she could have upset the FIA. ''What? W-what did I say?'' She managed to stutter out, all the eyes on her making her feel uneasy. 

''Uh, you were asked about the diversity in the sport and you said, and I quote: 'The FIA should do more regarding women in motorsport, there are still many things that need to be changed.' End quote.'' Derek answered her, putting his paper back in place. 

Y/N frowned at the man. ''I don't see what's wrong with that, to be honest.'' She told him, failing to see how the FIA would feel this was a ''deliberate attack''. 

The director sighed, already getting the suspicion the woman would not be happy with what he was about to say. ''Certain members of the board were offended by your words, because they saw it as you accusing them of being sexist.'' 

The silence in the room was deafening, every single person awaiting Y/N's reaction to Derek's clarification. The drivers took a glimpse at her, trying to read the indifferent expression on her face that didn't give much away about how she was feeling. 

''They think I'm accusing them of being sexist? What I meant was that they should take more actions in encouraging young girls to get into racing- I don't understand how that would correlate to me calling them sexist.'' Her usual cheerful tone was replaced by a monotone voice that almost scared some of her colleagues. 

Derek took a deep breath again. ''Well, they felt like you were insinuating it and they are offended by the alleged insinuation.'' 

''Just because they are offended doesn't mean they're right.'' She bit back, not missing a beat. 

''I'm simply delivering their message, Y/N,'' the director told her politely, wanting to remind her that he's not the person she should be upset with, ''anyway- if you go up there and apologize for your comment, they're considering leaving it as a warning for you and also the others.'' He finished the list of notes they had given him. 

The reaction from the room wasn't one he was expecting; absolute outrage. 

''She shouldn't apologize for that neither should she be penalized for it.'' Sebastian was the first one to speak up, directly looking Derek in the eye. 

The drivers agreed. ''Yeah, it's called freedom of speech.'' Max added, also not seeing why Y/N should go down there and say sorry to the members of the board. 

''Like I said earlier, I'm simply delivering their message.'' Derek repeated himself, feeling the tension and frustration growing in the small space. 

''But don't you see how ridiculous this is?'' Sebastian rebutted, hoping the man at the front could at least agree with them and say that it was indeed a weird request. 

Derek shook his head. ''I'm just the middle man, Seb,'' he sighed, turning his head towards the quiet female driver, ''Y/N, make it easier for yourself and go up there after the meeting, you don't want to receive a penalty for something like this.'' 

''I'm not apologizing.'' Her voice comes out strong, not in an aggressive way, but in a manner that lets everyone know she's not backing down. ''Give me as many penalties as you want, I'm not accepting them.'' She crossed her arms, indicating she was sticking to her words, almost stubbornly. 

The other drivers looked on proudly, glad she was standing by her belief and didn't give in simply because it would make everything ''easier''. Lewis gave her a nod, subtly letting her know he supported her and had her back. 

''Alright, then that will result in a fine of a number that is yet to be determined.'' Derek picked up his pen and wrote down that she would not come by their office, already knowing his colleagues wouldn't be happy with it. 

''Just so you know- I'm not paying that.'' Y/N said, matter-of-factly. 

Derek looked up from his journal. ''If you refuse to pay the fine, we can either add a grid-place penalty or a time penalty.'' He recited the rule as if he had done it a million times before. 

''Derek, this is stupid,'' Kimi decided to voice his opinion, ''the race shouldn't be affected, because of a comment she made that had nothing to do with racing in the first place.'' He defended her, allying behind her stance to not accept any of the penalties they give her. 

''I'm just doing my job, Kimi.'' 

''I also want to just do my job, Derek, which is racing, but these ridiculous rules to silence me prevent me from doing that.'' Y/N argued his response, just wanting him to see her point of view. 

The director's hand went over his face, seemingly wiping his agitation away. ''No one is trying to silence you, Y/N.'' He quickly answered. 

''That's why all the other drivers receive penalties whenever they question the FIA, right?'' Her comment must have shut him up as he solely put his pen down without saying another word about the matter. ''Yeah, that's what I thought.'' 

Y/N felt her presence wasn't longer necessary as she stood up from her chair, ready to leave the room and join her engineering team in preparation for the upcoming race. However, Derek felt different about that. ''The briefing isn't over yet, Y/L. Sit back down, please.'' 

''I'll see you at the next meeting, Derek.'' She ignored his plea and walked towards the door. 

The director stood up from his desk at the front. ''Y/N, if you leave before it's done, the board will-'' 

''The board can kiss my ass.'' 

''Y/N Y/L RECEIVES A 20-PLACE GRID PENALTY AHEAD OF THE 2021 SPANISH GRAND PRIX DUE TO DAMAGING REMARKS AGAINST THE FIA'' 

''FIA RE-EVALUATING Y/N Y/N's PENALTY AFTER BACKLASH'' 

''FIA SUSPENDS GRID PENALTY OF Y/N Y/L DUE TO AN ERROR'' 

The day after the driver's briefing had been quite eventful to say the least. As soon as the FIA announced that she had been given a penalty, the backlash from drivers, fans and reporters started. 

Lewis had condemned their decision claiming it was based on nothing and that nothing about her comment was an attack on the organization. His teammate, Valtteri, followed him in his opinion stating: ''Drivers should be able to say what they want to say, she doesn't deserve a penalty for that.'' 

Sky Sports F1 reporter, Martin Brundle, also came to the driver's defense. ''If we're going to punish drivers for stating their opinions, we might as well get rid of the entire sport, especially if what they're saying isn't far from the truth.'' 

After finishing P5 in the race, Y/N spoke to Will Buxton in her post-race interview. ''You must be very happy with your result today, considering you almost had to start from the very back of the grid.'' 

''I'm content with today's race, obviously would have loved a podium but Mercedes was better today,'' she chuckled, ''yeah, it wasn't fun waking up to that news, but I'm happy that it was reversed and the support I received was just- wow, I'm very grateful for everyone.'' 

''According to some sources, it got pretty heated in the driver's briefing on friday- would you like to clarify?'' Will asked her. 

A sarcastic laugh left her mouth. ''I would just like to forget about it, moving on is the best thing to do right now.'' She smoothly avoided the question, figuring she shouldn't make the FIA more mad by airing out all their business. 

''Alright, thank you so much for talking to us, Y/N and congratulations on your race today.'' He nodded, bidding her goodbye. 

On her way back to her team's hospitality, she was stopped by none other than Susie Wolff. ''Lewis told us what happened during the briefing- I'm very proud of you for standing up for yourself, not everyone could have done that.'' 

''It was so awful, Susie,'' Y/N hugged the older woman, ''it's like they just wanted to give me some sort of punishment- I don't even want to know what would have happened if I went down there by myself.'' Susie rubs her back at her words, also not wanting to think about what could have gone down. 

''It's okay now, honey,'' they pulled apart, Susie's hand staying on her shoulder, ''by the way- did you really say that the board could kiss your ass?'' 

Y/N laughed at her question, excitedly nodding her head. ''At first I wanted to say something like 'the board can stick that penalty right up their ass’ but I needed a cool getaway so I opted for something shorter.'' 

''Atta girl'' 

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @formulazeesworld @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123-blog @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @scuderialavender @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis 

if you want to be added to the taglist, fill in the form!

[wintfleur]

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTES RELATIONSHIP WITH MAT & QUINN

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

°. — everything for the couple under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤎୧˚ Juliette’s lovers

°. — you can find anything smutty under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🎞️୧˚ smutty lovers

ꪆ୧ BASICS !

how did they meet?  

mat and quinn met when they were younger at a hockey tournament and they instantly became close, over the years they became each other's best friend. 

julie met mat at a party in august of 2021, a mutual friend of theirs introduced them to each other, they spent most of that night at the party together. 

julie and quinn met in november of 2021, she was invited to a canucks game and they had filmed a small video together where he had given her one of his jerseys. 

who confessed their feelings first?  mat and quinn were the ones to confess their feelings first, they had noticed julie had became a little distant (she was afraid of her feelings) they surprised her at her apartment in april, and they had a long and emotional talk of their feelings, and they ended up asking her to be there girlfriend. 

first date?  juliette was the one to ask them on a date in february of 2022. She invited them over to her place, they made dinner together, laughed and drank wine as they talked and got to know each other better, having some dessert Julie made while watching a movie. It was a perfect first date for them, they could be comfortable and be themselves in the safety of Julie's home, not having to worry about being seen. 

first kiss?  mat and quinn had their first kiss together when they were at a bar, quinn was 22 while mat was 24 – they were in a photobooth and it kinda just happened. Mat and Julie shared a tipsy kiss the night they met at the party. Julie and Quinn had their first kiss while they were hiding away on a balcony at an event they both were at. 

first I love you?  quinn was the one to say i love you first, the throuple were cuddling on the couch at quinn’s lake house in july, he was having a bad day and julie and mat were just being so sweet and soft to him. he was so overwhelmed with love that he just whispered the words. a happy julie and mat of course said it back, reassuring quinn who got all shy, littering their boy and each other with sweet kisses. 

how did everyone find out? 

family + friends: they told their families and close friends, weeks after they were official, they wanted to take their time until they were fully comfortable with everyone knowing. 

the public: the public found out about them in June of 2023, when an article was posted with the sole purpose of ruining their careers. The article had pictures of them that were taken without their consent, intimate details of their relationship. 

ꪆ୧ DETAILS !

their tropes: dom!mat x switch!quinn x switch!julie, friends to lovers, talker!mat x listener!julie x talker!quinn, hyper!mat x sleepy!quinn x sleepy!julie, 

love languages: 

mat’s: physical touch, acts of service 

quinn’s: words of affirmation, physical touch 

julie’s: gift giving, physical touch 

pet names: 

mat’s (for them): baby, love, sweetheart 

quinn’s (for them): honey, angel, babe 

julie’s (for them): darling, love, handsome 

mat and julie love to call quinn pet names in french, it makes him very flustered 

their favorite sleep position: 

mat’s: big spoon 

quinn’s: little spoon / being in the middle 

julie’s: either 

songs that describe them: 

seven – jungkook & latto 

sweet – cigarettes after sex

meet me halfway – black eyed peas 

. . . more to add! 

contact names: 

mat’s phone 

quinn’s: q baby 💙

julie’s: julie baby 💞

quinn’s phone

mat’s: barzy 🤍

julie’s: juliebug 💗

julie’s phone 

mat’s: matty 💕

quinn’s: quinny 💕

lockscreens: 

mat’s: is a picture of julie and quinn, they had all gone to this really cool record shop when they were exploring a town they were visiting. mat that it was cute how silly they were being and took a picture. 

quinn’s: is a picture of julie and mat on date night, they had just left a restaurant and the three of them were all a little tipsy, mat and julie were being really giggly so quinn took a picture to remember the moment forever. 

julie’s: is a picture of mat and quinn, they were all staying at a family ranch of a very close friend of julies for a vacation. She loves horses, she loves her boys and they all looked perfect, Julie of course had to take a picture of this moment! 

ꪆ୧ THEIR THINGS !

Judging everyone and everything together.

Cozy nights on the couch with a warm blanket and bottle of wine.

Matching jewelry in some way, Mat with a necklace, Quinn with a ring, and julie with a bracelet

Always texting each other good morning and good night.

Spending weekends on her yacht.

Skinny dipping

Spending their nights in the hottub on her balcony or at the lake house, laughs and tipsy kisses Shared between them

Clubbing! . . . well more like Julie and Mat dragging Quinn to the club with them.

Going on late boat rides at the lakehouse, so they can relax and watch the stars.

 Quinn and Mat playing one on one at the rink while Julie watches and cheers them both on, a lot of bets are won like this ;)

Slapping each others asses

Always touching each other in some way

Mat planning spontaneous dates

Going to carnivals/fairs and the boys competing against each other to get Julie the biggest stuffed animal.

Nights where they make homemade pizzas and play video games, a loving competition of course between mat and quinn.

Quinn and Julie holding hands while Mat is holding one of their waists, wherever they all walk together.

Their hands in each other's back pockets.

Juliette sending them love letters.

Always sending each other flowers when they are apart, the flowers remind them of each other.

Having amazing communication

Counting down the days until they see each other again.

Having access to each others calendars

Whenever they call their parents , they end up talking about each other.

Giving each other massages

Being each others biggest supporters

The boys painting julie's fingers and toes for her when she doesn't want to go get them done

ꪆ୧ FUN FACTS !

They love going on vacations together, mostly tropical places.

When Julie and Mat first met at the party, they shared a tipsy kiss. When Mat got home that night, he called Quinn and told him all about it. It was just one kiss, but God that was all Mat could think about.

Quinn didn't admit it , but he was a little jealous of the fact that mat and julie kissed. His feelings for Mat were confusing and honestly scaring him a little bit . . . but he wasn't jealous that Mat kissed someone else that  wasn't him, no he was jealous that he also didn't get to kiss julie and he wasn't there to see it happen.

They planned on keeping their relationship a secret for a while until they were comfortable enough for the public to know, but sadly that didn't happen.

They are all very family oriented, and they can't wait until they can have a family of their own

The boys both have their own place, but they practically live with Julie at her place in Monaco when they don't have hockey.

They love late mornings where they can wake up late, cuddle in bed for however long they want until they get up to make breakfast.

They love doing sports together, going golfing, and playing some tennis !! They are a very active couple.

The boys love to take advantage of the fact that they're good at the two sports, loving to help her. “Helping" means pressing their body close against hers and whispering tips in her ear . . . little do they both know that she pretends to be bad just so she could feel them pressed up against her.

 Mat’s filthy dirty talk always leaves Quinn and Julie a flustered and breathless mess . . . he loves the hold he has on them.

They all love how domestic they are when there together, especially in the mornings. Waking up in each other's arms, soft music playing through the kitchen as they make breakfast before eating it on Julie's balcony that gave them the beauty of monaco.

At the lake house they have a loveseat in the living room where the three love to curl up with each other , watching movies with Jack and luke. Mostly scary movies . . .

Physically Mat is more protective out of them all, but vocally that's julie. She will not stand for them to be disrespected or talked down to because of their sexual preference. Quinn is also very protective, but in a more of an intimidating way if that makes sense?

 Mat and Quinn get along wonderfully with Julie's friends , they feel very welcomed with them.

It's bittersweet when the boys are together and Julie can't be there with them, they are happy to be with each other, but it's just not the same without their girl.

They all proudly talk about their relationship when asked, but they usually keep it to themselves. All of them like their privacy, and even though they were exposed they were still going to sorta private about each other . . . Which is almost  impossible, the amount of pictures that the paparazzi take of them is crazy.

They once went on a cruise where they invited their parents and siblings and their significant others. They had a great time and it definitely brought them all closer , especially Arthur with Mat and quinn.

They love the city and living by a lake, but they absolutely love living in the country. They have talked about it many times being their own land to build a home and stables, ranch and vineyard, growing old together with their family . . . it's their dream.

Whenever they do have arguments which isn't often , they all have different reactions. Quinn normally just needs some time to himself to calm down and collect his thoughts.

Julie wants to fix things right away , she hates the idea of them being upset with her and she feels terrible and gets hard on herself.

Mat is like a mixture of the both of them , he needs some space but he also tears himself up with guilt.

Mat definitely is talking in their group chat the most , and poor Julie wakes up with tons of messages she has to read through from the two of them.

Out of all of them , mat is the most open about their relationship with the public/media

The boys love getting in contact with Julie's assistant so they can plan surprises for her!

Julie loves taking her boys shopping , trying on different outfits for them and picking out clothes for them to wear. They pretend to hate it but they all know they dont.

They love when Julie sings to them or plays the piano.

The boys love when Julie goes out with them and their teammates, they just love seeing how well she gets along with all of them.

ꪆ୧ INTERNETS FAVORITE MOMENTS !

The day after the article exposing them came out, Julie proudly said that both of her boyfriends were in attendance at the race when she was being interviewed . . . She then went and won the race and then proudly kissed them both after the race.

An interview had asked Quinn a very highly insensitive question about his relationship and Quinn was quick to snap and shut the reporter down, a very very intimidating glare on his face while doing so.

In the background of an instagram story Charles posted, you can see mat, quinn and julie cuddled up in a hammock in the beautiful leclerc home backyard, smiling and laughing at Arthur who was trying to impress them with a hockey stick that Quinn and mat had bought him.

When Julie made a special appearance on lando’s stream and the two were talking about a night out they had with mat, quinn and a few of their other friends. Julie was talking so fondly about the two boys and Lando had a great time playfully teasing her about it.

 When a video of the three of them dancing (grinding) together on the dancefloor at a club went viral . . . along with a clip of mat pouring champagne from the bottle into julie's mouth, quinn licking and kissing up the few drops that rolled down her neck.

The photo dumps Julie posts whenever they go on vacation together.

Every time Julie is shown on the big screen at their hockey games , or when the boys are shown on the screen in the paddock.

The clip of mat and julie going on the big screen at quinn’s game , mat having his arm wrapped around julies shoulder as she was snuggled into his side as she sipped on a beer , both of them wearing a quinn jersey , then it showed quinn who was sitting on the bench smiling as he saw the two of them on the big screen.

ꪆ୧ MOODBOARD !

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHH FINALLY ITS OUT !! I’m so sorry it took me forever to get out , I had a little struggle with coming up with some facts about them. I really hope you guys enjoy this , I love them so so much !! I’m not proud of the moodboard at all , it’s so bad !! Maybe in the future I’ll make a new one , it was just hard finding pictures for them !! )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @lavisenri @callsignwidow @willowpains @winterbarnesblog )

©️WINTFLEUR

[its-avalon-08]

tell me why you're here (dc14)

anon you're a star! istg such good requests, thanks alot for reading <3

pairing - David Coulthard x ferrari!driver!reader

The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of exhaust fumes and the thrumming tension of a championship fight. 2001, Monza. You, the undisputed Scuderia Ferrari Queen, and David Coulthard, your McLaren nemesis, stood on opposite sides of the grid, a simmering rivalry stretching back years reflected in your steely gazes.

There was something undeniable between you two, a spark that ignited on the racetrack and flickered in the post-race interviews, veiled in thinly veiled barbs and stolen glances. But the truth was, unspoken fears kept you both tethered to your teams. The scarlet of Ferrari was your armor, the prancing horse your symbol of unwavering loyalty. McLaren, for David, was a second family, and Mika Hakkinen, his teammate, a brother-in-arms. To break ranks, to chase something more, felt like a betrayal.

The lights flicked out, the grid a blur of red and silver as you surged forward. Every lap was a dance on a knife's edge, pushing the limits of the car and yourself. You battled wheel-to-wheel with David, the roar of the crowd a distant echo in your helmet. Then, disaster struck. Bottas, the Williams driver, misjudged a turn, clipping your rear wing. The world tilted on its axis as your Ferrari went airborne, a sickening weightlessness before a bone-jarring impact with the barriers.

The cockpit filled with dust and the acrid tang of burning rubber. Your head throbbed, vision blurry. Disoriented, you fumbled with the release lever, the silence deafening after the symphony of the engine. You stumbled out, shaken but miraculously unharmed. The red car, however, lay broken and unmoving, a testament to the violence of the crash.

David, having witnessed the horror unfold in his mirrors, felt a primal jolt of fear course through him. It was a fear that transcended their rivalry, a raw, visceral terror that left his palms slick with sweat. But he clenched his jaw, a silent apology lodged in his throat. McLaren needed this win, and Mika was hot on his heels. He couldn't afford to falter.

Fear, raw and primal, clawed at his throat. It was a fear that transcended their rivalry, a terror that left his palms slick with sweat.

He couldn't take his eyes off the dust cloud engulfing the spot where your car had disappeared. The championship fight with Michael was a distant thought, the roar of the crowd a dull thrum in his ears. His voice, when he finally spoke, was tight, a mask of professionalism barely containing the tremor of worry.

"Get me a status check on the red two," he barked into his radio, his gaze fixed on the dissipating smoke. "Accident at Lesmo. Looks bad."

"Copy that, David," his race engineer, Dave Masten, replied, his voice laced with concern. They both knew the dangers lurking on the high-speed corners of Monza.

David pressed his foot down further, the car a blur as he pushed for every last millisecond. He knew he couldn't afford to lose focus, not with Mika hot on his heels. But every corner, every bump, sent a fresh jolt of unease through him. Images of your crumpled car, of you… he pushed them down, burying them deep. He couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. Yet, with every passing lap, the worry gnawed at him, a relentless current beneath the surface.

"Any word on Y/N?" he finally asked, his voice clipped, betraying none of the turmoil within.

"Medical team's on the scene," Dave responded promptly. "We'll get you an update as soon as we have one."

David grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He couldn't let this distract him. He had a race to win, for McLaren, for Mika, for himself. But a silent vow echoed in the confines of his helmet. He would see you, Y/N. He would get to you, somehow, the moment this damn race was over.

The race raged on, the roar of the crowd a distant echo in David's ears. He drove on autopilot, the image of your crumpled car seared into his mind. Finally, the checkered flag. A hollow victory, a McLaren 1-2. Relief washed over him, tinged with a gnawing worry.

As he climbed out of the car, the first person his eyes met was Michael, a grim expression etched on his face. "Y/N," he started, his voice tight, "they're taking her to the medical center."

David's heart lurched. All thoughts of the win, the championship, faded into insignificance. He didn't care about points or podiums. All he wanted was to be by your side, to see you safe. But duty, that ever-present burden, held him back. He could only nod curtly, a silent promise hanging heavy in the air, a promise he hoped he wouldn't break.

The post-race celebrations were a blur of forced smiles and hollow champagne toasts. David felt like a fraud, the gleaming trophy a cold reminder of a victory that felt hollow. He couldn't shake the image of your car, a mangled sculpture of red against the asphalt. The medical center visit had been a whirlwind – you were shaken, sore, but thankfully unharmed. Relief had washed over him, a tidal wave that left him weak at the knees.

But the relief was laced with a bitter aftertaste. He hadn't been able to see you. Team protocols, the swarming media, a suffocating sense of duty – all conspired to keep him at bay. Back at the McLaren motorhome, the silence was deafening. He showered, the hot water failing to wash away the lingering dread. Just then, a knock on the door startled him. It was Mika, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Mind if I intrude, mate?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

David sighed, gesturing for him to come in. "Fire away, Mika."

"Look," Mika began, his usual playful demeanor replaced by uncharacteristic seriousness, "I know what just happened out there scared the living daylights out of you."

David flinched. He hadn't spoken a word about his terror, yet Mika saw right through him.

"Don't worry, DC," Mika chuckled, "your secret's safe with me. But seriously, mate," he continued, his voice softening, "you looked like a ghost out there. You haven't been yourself since that crash."

David stared down at his hands, guilt twisting in his gut. "I just… I couldn't believe it. One minute she's pushing me hard, the next…" he trailed off, unable to voice the terrifying image that haunted him.

Mika placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of surprising tenderness from the usually stoic Finn. "You care about her, don't you?"

David met Mika's gaze, his own filled with a mix of vulnerability and defiance. "It's complicated, Mika. We're rivals."

Mika scoffed. "Rivals who can't seem to keep their eyes off each other. Come on, DC, we both know this dance you two have been doing is getting old. You think I haven't noticed the sparks flying whenever you're around her?"

David opened his mouth to protest, but Mika cut him off. "Look," he said, his voice firm, "life's too damn short for these games. You almost lost her today. Don't waste another minute wondering what could have been."

Mika's words hung in the air, a challenge and a dare. David looked into his teammate's eyes, seeing not just a competitor but a friend who understood. Maybe Mika was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding, to stop letting fear dictate his actions. He wouldn't let another day pass without knowing the truth, without letting you know how he truly felt.

A resolute expression settled on David's face. "Thanks, Mika," he said, a newfound determination in his voice. "You're right. It's time."

The sterile white of the medical center walls had been a blur as the doctor droned on about rest and recovery. Back in the familiar confines of your driver's room at the Ferrari garage, however, the events of the day crashed down on you like a tidal wave. The mangled wreckage of your car, the searing pain that had mercifully subsided, the chilling realization of how close you'd come to...well, anything but a podium finish. You curled up on the small cot, exhaustion warring with a nagging anxiety. A soft knock at the door startled you.

Wiping the tears that had sprung to your eyes, you called out, your voice hoarse. "Yeah, come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a sight that made your breath hitch. It was David, clad in his now-unfamiliar McLaren overalls, his face etched with a worry you wouldn't have believed possible just a few hours ago. Before you could even process his unexpected appearance, he was striding across the room, his expression uncharacteristically intense.

The next thing you knew, you were enveloped in a warm embrace. His arms, surprisingly strong, held you close, his fingers gently stroking your hair. It was a gesture so foreign to the typically stoic David that you froze, unsure how to react. He'd never been one for displays of affection, not even in the fleeting, celebratory moments of a podium finish.

"David?" you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "What's wrong?"

He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes holding a depth you'd never seen before. Concern, something akin to fear, flickered in their depths. "I heard you were back," he said, his voice rough. "I... I just needed to see you, to make sure you were alright."

You blinked, your mind racing. This wasn't the David you knew, the one cloaked in professional rivalry. This was a man stripped bare, his emotions laid raw on the surface. A warmth bloomed in your chest, a counterpoint to the lingering chill of fear.

"I'm fine," you said, your voice finding its strength. "Just a bit banged up." You reached out, hesitantly placing your hand on his arm. The contact sent a jolt through you, a familiar spark you'd long suppressed.

A wry smile tugged at your lips, the memory of countless post-race interviews flashing before your eyes. "You don't exactly strike me as the huggy type, DC," you teased, the playful jab a way to mask the fluttering in your stomach.

David's jaw clenched for a brief moment, a flicker of his usual competitive spirit igniting. But then, his grip on you tightened, surprising you with its intensity. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice husky, "accidents have a way of changing things." He buried his face in your hair, the familiar scent of Ferrari leather and adrenaline a strange comfort. "Don't push me away, Y/N. Not now." The words were a plea, raw and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the composed facade he usually maintained. You felt a lump form in your throat. This wasn't just about the crash, you realized with a jolt. This was about something deeper, something unspoken that had simmered beneath the surface of your rivalry for far too long.

You let out a shaky breath, the playful facade crumbling under the weight of his unexpected vulnerability. "David," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, "why are you really here?"

He held you tighter for a moment, his silence a thrumming tension in the air. Then, slowly, he pulled back, his blue eyes searching yours. "Because," he began, his voice low and husky, "the thought of you… of almost losing you… it scared the hell out of me."

Your heart hammered in your chest. This wasn't just about concern for a fellow competitor. This was something more, something you'd only dreamt of.

"Scared?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

A wry smile touched his lips, laced with a hint of self-deprecation. "Scared enough to break all the damn rules," he admitted, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Scared enough to realize that this stupid rivalry… it doesn't matter anymore. Not compared to you."

The dam inside you broke. All the unspoken feelings, the stolen glances across the podium, the simmering tension that had fueled your every race – it all came flooding out. "David," you breathed, your voice trembling, "I thought… I thought you never felt the same."

He cupped your face in his calloused hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. "Always," he confessed, his voice a mere thread. "Always, but the timing… the teams… it never felt right."

A tear escaped your eye, tracing a warm path down your cheek. David leaned in, brushing it away with his thumb, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

David cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. He confessed, his voice a low rumble. "This whole time, this stupid rivalry… it was a shield. I was afraid to admit how I felt, afraid of what it would mean for our teams, for everything."

A bittersweet smile touched your lips. The fear you'd harbored for years, the fear of rejection, mirrored his own. "David," you said, your voice catching slightly, "I… I felt it too. The spark, the tension… I thought it was just competition."

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "It was always more, Y/N," he murmured, sending shivers down your spine. Then, his lips found yours in a hesitant kiss, a tentative exploration that quickly deepened with newfound urgency. The taste of adrenaline and relief mingled with something sweeter, a taste that promised a future neither of you dared to dream of.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. A soft laugh escaped his lips, tinged with disbelief. "Who knew a near-death experience would lead to this?" he whispered, peppering your face with gentle kisses, each one a silent apology, a promise.

The first kiss landed on your temple, a whisper-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The second brushed your cheek, lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling. Then, a third, softer still, grazed the corner of your lips, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh, your voice barely a whisper. "David," you breathed, your hand reaching up to cup his face, your fingers tracing the firm line of his jaw.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated against your chest. "Don't tempt me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. His lips danced across your jaw, trailing a line of fire down your neck before finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. A gasp escaped your lips as he lingered there, sending delicious shivers radiating through you.

His kisses were a whirlwind, a mix of apology and exploration. Each one whispered a story – the fear he'd felt watching you crash, the relief of seeing you safe, the yearning he'd kept buried for so long. You surrendered to the feeling, letting out a soft sigh as your arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer.

The world outside your small driver's room faded away, replaced by the intoxicating rhythm of your heartbeats and the warmth of his touch. In that moment, there were no rivalries, no teams, no championships. There was only you and David, two souls bound by a love that had finally found its voice.

The tender scene unfolding in the driver's room was a stark contrast to the usual post-race chaos. A few doors down the hallway, Michael Schumacher and Corinna were winding down after a celebratory dinner with the rest of the Ferrari team. Michael, still buzzing from his podium finish, was regaling Corinna with an anecdote about a pit stop mishap. But his voice trailed off as his gaze drifted towards the window overlooking the driver's area.

"What's wrong, Schatz?" Corinna asked, following his line of sight.

A sly grin spread across Michael's face. "Looks like Mika owes me a hefty sum," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

Corinna's eyes widened as she saw David, his McLaren helmet abandoned on a nearby chair, holding Y/N in a tight embrace. Her normally stoic teammate was peppering her face with kisses, a sight so unexpected it brought a smile to Corinna's lips.

"Aww, they're so happy," she murmured, a hint of fondness in her voice.

Michael chuckled again. "Remember that bet we made before the season started? Fifty bucks says those two wouldn't confess their feelings by Monaco."

Corinna rolled her eyes playfully. "Fifty bucks? You know you just wanted an excuse to see them squirm."

Michael shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe a little. But hey, at least they finally stopped dancing around each other."

Corinna couldn't help but agree. As she watched the tender scene unfold, a warmth bloomed in her chest. The rivalry between Ferrari and McLaren was fierce, but beneath the surface, there was a certain camaraderie, a respect for the talent and dedication of their competitors. And seeing Y/N and David find happiness, even amidst the high-octane world of Formula One, brought a smile to her face.

"Looks like Mika needs to pony up," Michael declared, reaching for his wallet with a triumphant grin.

Corinna swatted his hand away playfully. "Don't be a sore winner, Michael. Just be happy for them."

Michael feigned a hurt expression. "Fine, fine," he conceded, pulling her into a hug. "But you have to admit, this is a lot more interesting than that story about your dodgy pit stop crew."

Corinna laughed, the sound echoing down the hallway, a counterpoint to the soft murmur of confessions and the gentle rhythm of two hearts finally beating in sync.

[monzaaasharl]

Mama

Pairings:: F1 drivers x Female driver! Reader, Christian Horner x Daughter! Reader, Geri Halliwell x Daughter! Reader

Summary:: Geri Halliwell-Horner shows social media just how proud she is of her daughter and her journey into motorsport, and that their mother-daughter bond really is special and unbreakable.

Speedy Spice Masterlist

gerihalliwellhorner

Liked by y/nhorner, porschef1 and 837,615 others

gerihalliwellhorner I'm so immensely proud of you, my darling. It feels that only yesterday you were begging me to take you to the race track so you could practice your karting skills and now you're driving a Formula One car! You've come so far and been through so much. I can't wait to see you on the circuit!

y/nhorner I'm so lucky to be you're daughter 🩷

gerihalliwellhorner I'm lucky to be you're mother

y/nnnn.xx_ Why can't I have this sort of relationship with my mum

leclerccc_.baee ^^^ fr, they seem like such a perfect family

christianhorner ❤️

oscc.norris_814 I want Geri to be my mum 😭

y/nhorner

Liked by pierregasly, gerihalliwellhorner and 5,739,016 others

y/nhorner Thank you to everyone that has helped me to get to where I am today, this opportunity to drive in Formula 1 is a dream come true. Thank you to my father for buying me my first ever kart and for getting me into racing. But my biggest thank you is to my mother for always believing in me and making sure I never gave up working for this. You're my biggest fan and I'm yours too ❤️

gerihalliwellhorner I love you so much, my darling, you've always made me so proud ❤️

y/nhorner I couldn't have done it without you ❤️

christianhorner As your father I can't wait to see you in action in Bahrain, but as your opponent I'm definitely a bit worried

y/nhorner As your daughter I will make you proud and as your competitor I will make you scared 😂

mickschumacher I can't wait to have you as a teammate

Liked by y/nhorner

shelovesformula1 You're going to smash it!!!

Liked by y/nhorner

lewisss.88 I'm actually so excited for this like there's finally a female formula one driver

webber21vettel She's either gonna be amazing or a flop 😬

s55nz.sf I feel like she's already been overhyped

16_jenson.alo Fr, theres a reason women don't drive in f1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST:

@treehouse-mouse @champomiel @honkyscats @nightreader16 @cherry-piee @welovediaaxx @trouble-sistar @namgification @awhbigail @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @fluvsof @blueberry64857959 @2pagenumb

If you would like to be added or taken off of the taglist please comment, send and ask or message me x

[riareadsvt]

Ruined for You — YJH Corruption Series #CH3

Chapter: 3

— check out the masterlist to find the next chapters.

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader

chapter wc: ~2057

genre: corruption arc, slow-burn possession | au: f1 | rating: M (18+) MDNI

warnings: explicit content, power play, toxic dynamics, obsession, manipulation, corruption kink

a/n: this series leans heavily into corruption and possession, but it’s not extreme smut more about power, obsession, and the slow descent into wanting to be owned. expect manipulation, toxic dynamics, and a very possessive jeonghan who always gets what he wants. if that’s your thing, welcome aboard. if not, consider this your warning!

#CH3 — You’re Interviewing Him? Do You Want Him, or Do You Just Like Pissing Me Off?

Y/N was going to kill him.  

It had been two days since the press conference, two days since Jeonghan had left her on the edge of an orgasm in front of half the F1 media world.  

And he hadn’t touched her since.  

Not a word. Not a text. Not even a smug glance in her direction.  

He was ignoring her.  

Like she didn’t exist.  

Like she wasn’t still aching from what he had done to her.  

Y/N had spent the past forty-eight hours trying to forget about him, throwing herself into work, convincing herself she didn’t care.  

So when she got the opportunity to interview Joshua Hong Jeonghan’s biggest rival she took it.  

Maybe it was petty.  

Maybe it was reckless.  

Maybe, deep down, she wanted to see if it would make Jeonghan react.  

But it was just an interview.  

That’s what she told herself as she stood in the Red Bull garage, smiling as Joshua answered her questions.  

That’s what she told herself when Joshua laughed at something she said, easygoing and charming, his eyes warm with interest.  

That’s what she told herself when

A hand wrapped around her wrist.  

Tight. Possessive.  

Y/N barely had time to process before she was yanked away from Joshua, dragged through the back of the paddock, past security, past the garages, past everything

Until she was shoved into a dimly lit Ferrari storage room, the door slamming shut behind her.  

Jeonghan was furious.  

His grip on her wrist was iron, his breathing uneven, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like he was grinding his teeth.  

“What the fuck was that?” His voice was dangerously low.  

Y/N wrenched her arm free, glaring. “An interview.”  

Jeonghan laughed a sharp, humorless sound. “An interview?” He stepped closer, forcing her back against the wall. “So that’s what we’re calling it?”  

Y/N’s heart pounded.  

She refused to back down. “You don’t get to act jealous.”  

Jeonghan leaned in, his hands slamming against the wall on either side of her head.  

His eyes were dark.  

Dangerous.  

“You think this is jealousy?” His breath was hot against her skin. “No, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, venomous and sharp.  

“This is me reminding you who you belong to.”  

Her stomach flipped.  

Then his hands were on her gripping her hips, dragging her forward, pressing her flush against him.  

He was hard.  

And he wasn’t hiding it.  

“You let him touch you?” His fingers dug into her skin. “Did you let him look at you the way I do?”  

Y/N barely had time to gasp before Jeonghan spun her around, shoving her against the wall.  

His lips were everywhere her neck, her shoulder, biting, sucking, marking.  

He didn’t care who saw the two of you.

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before Jeonghan pinned her against the wall, his hands roaming with a sharp, possessive edge.  

His teeth grazed the side of her neck before he bit down hard not enough to break skin, but enough to bruise. Enough to make sure no one else would dare to touch her without seeing him all over her.  

Her gasp echoed in the dimly lit storage room.  

Jeonghan smirked.  

"Did he make you blush like this?" His voice was low, dark, dripping with something lethal. His hands slid up her sides, gripping her waist, thumbs digging in like he owned her. "Did he make you shiver just by standing close?"  

Y/N hated him.  

She hated how her body reacted, how her breath hitched, how her fingers curled against the wall as his hands wandered.  

He yanked her skirt up, dragging it over her hips, his palms warm against her bare thighs.  

"You like making me mad, huh?" His teeth scraped against her earlobe, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "You wanted to see what would happen?"  

Y/N refused to answer.  

She refused to let him know just how much she loved it when he got like this.  

Jeonghan laughed low and knowing.  

His fingers slipped between her legs.  

"You’re fucking soaked."  

Heat flooded her face.  

She clenched her jaw. "Screw you."  

Jeonghan shoved his knee between her thighs, spreading them apart, pressing her harder against the wall.  

"You’re gonna."  

Then his fingers pushed inside her.  

Y/N choked on a moan, her hands flying to his wrists, nails digging into his skin.  

But he didn’t stop.  

Didn’t slow down.  

His movements were rough, relentless, punishing like he wanted her to feel just how furious he was.  

"You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you?" His voice was sharp, his lips ghosting over her jaw, his fingers curling inside her. "Like he actually had a chance."  

Y/N’s knees buckled.  

Jeonghan caught her with one arm, holding her up, his other hand still working her open.  

"Did you want him to touch you?" His pace quickened, dragging another moan from her throat. "Did you want to see if he could fuck you better than me?"  

Y/N barely had the breath to glare at him.  

"You’re an asshole."  

Jeonghan grinned.  

Then he pulled his fingers out.  

Y/N let out a sharp whimper, her body trembling, her thighs clenching around nothing.  

Jeonghan lifted his hand, tilting her chin up with his slick-coated fingers.  

"Say my name."  

She panted against his palm, her chest rising and falling, her skin flushed and overheated.  

Jeonghan pressed his forehead to hers, eyes locked onto hers, lips just barely brushing.  

"Say it," he murmured, a whisper that held more power than a shout.  

Her pride screamed at her to resist.  

But her body was already his.  

And he knew it.  

"Jeonghan," she breathed.  

His smirk returned.  

Then he kissed her hard, desperate, like he needed to ruin her all over again.  

And Y/N let him.

Jeonghan didn’t just kiss her he devoured her.  

His mouth was hot, insistent, his lips molding against hers with an edge of something dangerous. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip before he bit down, pulling a gasp from her throat that he swallowed greedily.  

Y/N’s hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, and Jeonghan felt it felt the way she melted into him, the way her body caved despite the fight in her eyes.  

"You like this, don’t you?" His voice was rough against her lips, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of her thighs. "Pissing me off just so I’ll remind you who you fucking belong to."  

Before she could react, he lifted her.  

Y/N barely had time to let out a sharp breath before he pinned her against the wall again, her legs wrapping around his waist out of instinct.  

Her head tilted back as his mouth latched onto her throat, sucking bruises into her skin, marking her with reckless abandon.  

"Don’t worry, sweetheart," he murmured between kisses, his breath fanning over her heated skin. "By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name."  

Her nails raked down his back as his hands gripped her thighs, pressing her against the wall with a force that sent heat spiking through her veins.  

"Jeonghan," she gasped.  

His smirk was pure sin. "That’s right."  

His fingers slid under the waistband of her underwear, teasing, testing, taunting.  

"You think anyone out there would believe me if I told them how fucking needy you are for me?" He pushed two fingers inside her without warning, his other hand cupping the back of her head, keeping her trapped against him.  

Y/N shattered.  

Her moan was muffled against his shoulder, her body jerking at the sudden intrusion.  

"That’s it," Jeonghan murmured, voice like velvet, like he was so pleased with himself. His fingers curled inside her, dragging slow, deliberate pleasure out of her, coaxing her to the edge with expert precision.  

Her thighs clenched around his waist, her breathing ragged, her nails digging into his skin.  

And Jeonghan ate it up.  

"You wanted this," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. "You knew what you were doing the second you smiled at him."  

Y/N’s breath hitched as his fingers sped up, every movement pushing her closer, making her lose control.  

Her body shook, her back arching against the wall, and she hated that she was already so fucking close.  

Jeonghan felt it, too.  

"Knew you’d be easy for me." His voice was all dark amusement. "Always are."  

Y/N wanted to fight back, wanted to throw something sharp and cutting in his face.  

But then he sucked at the soft spot below her ear  

And her entire world fractured.  

The orgasm slammed into her, sharp and overwhelming, her body tensing, her moan caught between pleasure and frustration.  

She shouldn’t be letting him win.  

But she did.  

And Jeonghan knew it.  

He didn’t stop. Not immediately. He worked her through it, his fingers dragging out every last wave of pleasure, his breath hot against her ear. His free hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back so he could watch her fall apart.  

Y/N shuddered, her thighs still clenched around his waist, her body slumping against him as the aftershocks made her tremble.  

Jeonghan pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her jaw, smug and satisfied.  

"Knew you’d be good for me," he murmured, dragging his lips down to her throat.  

Y/N barely had the strength to glare at him.  

His fingers finally slipped out of her, leaving her empty and aching, her skin buzzing with overstimulation.  

She should have hated him.  

For making her come so fast. For playing her like a fucking instrument. For knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to have her melting in his hands.  

But when he lifted his fingers to his lips, licking them clean.

Her. stomach flipped.  

Jeonghan caught her watching, his smirk deepening.  

"That desperate to taste yourself, sweetheart?" His voice was pure filth. "Or just desperate for more?"  

Y/N snapped out of it, shoving at his chest. "Put me down."  

Jeonghan chuckled, but he did as she asked, setting her back on shaky legs.  

She wobbled.  

His hands shot out, steadying her hips, his smirk only growing. "Careful."  

Y/N slapped his arm away, her cheeks burning. "Fuck you."  

Jeonghan grinned. "You just did."  

She clenched her jaw so hard it ached.  

Meanwhile, Jeonghan casually straightened his shirt, looking completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just fucked her senseless against a storage room wall.  

Then, as if to really make her regret everything, he took a slow step forward, caging her in again.  

His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.  

"You really thought interviewing him would get my attention?" His smirk was sharp, dangerous. "Sweetheart, you had that from the second you walked into my motorhome."  

Y/N’s breath caught.  

Then Jeonghan leaned in, lips just barely grazing hers.  

"Next time you want to make me jealous," he murmured, voice low, "you should try harder."  

Then he stepped back.  

And walked away.  

Leaving Y/N wrecked.  

Shaking.  

And completely fucked.

Y/N stood there, heart still hammering, legs barely steady beneath her.  

Her skin was flushed, still buzzing with the aftershocks of Jeonghan’s touch, but her mind her mind was caught between fury and something far more dangerous.  

He had humiliated her.  

He had owned her.  

And worst of all 

He had walked away like none of it mattered.  

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to breathe. To think.  

She couldn’t let this happen again.  

Couldn’t let him toy with her, wreck her, leave her like she was just another game he was playing.  

She needed to be the one in control.  

So when she finally gathered herself enough to push off the wall, smoothing down her skirt and fixing her hair, she knew exactly what she had to do.  

Jeonghan thought he had won.  

But this wasn’t over.  

Not even close.  

Y/N straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked out of the storage room with only one thought in her mind.  

She was going to make him break next time.  

And she wasn’t going to stop until she did.  

a/n - tell me what you feel about this, thanks for reading I hope you have a wonderful day!

[777bae]

F1 FEMALE DRIVER HEADCANONS

PAIRING… f1!drivers x fem!driver | WC… 0.4k | Masterlist

➭ Having basically all of the older drivers as your parents (mainly Lewis, Seb and Daniel).

➭ Being slightly younger than Oscar.

➭ Karaoke sessions with the drivers and it always just ends up in you singing beautifully whilst the latter almost lose their voice.

➭ Being besties with Carlos and Lando and either you gang up on either or both gang up on you.

➭ Always being picked as a partner in grid challenges, no matter the topic and somehow your team always seems to win, leading you to be known as the ‘most cultured’ driver.

➭ Being known as the ‘model’ of the paddock as you always turn up in the best outfits during race week.

➭ Having many fans either want to be you or be with you.

➭ Being an absolute idiot with Charles wherever whenever with Daniel or Seb having to marshall your stupidness.

➭ Every driver believing that you and Oscar are a thing, no matter how many times you both try to deny the speculations.

➭ Having gossip sessions with whichever driver you can get a hold of, mainly those being Daniel, Lando, Carlos and Charles. Also having them eavesdrop on conversations you have with your other friends and immediately asking you about it once the call ends.

➭ All of the drivers just ganging up on George and joining in on George’s intro meme, with you winning of course.

➭ Lando and Daniel bullying you into having one of those jpg accounts after multiple fans point out how their own accounts are basically just fan accounts for you (mainly Lando’s). Your first post includes a dramatic and over the top photoshoot by the two before being followed by a few mugshots of the drivers.

➭ Each driver being given a nickname after certain crashes, yours being the torpedo after you infamously charged straight into Carlos’ car (the nickname given as Carlos had, very exaggeratedly, described what you looked like). Other drivers nicknames being: Beyoncé belonging to Lando after the radio recording of him screaming (hitting a high note) after losing control of his car was released.

➭ You basically trying to bully Lance into giving you a few extra notes in cash at any chance you can, whenever Lawrence is not around of course.

➭ Having Yuki take you and Pierre to his house whenever you’re in the country after begging him to let his mother make some food for the two of you. This idea spiralling off the one time Yuki let you try one of his homemade meals, the recipe, he said, belonging to his mother.

➭ ‘Michael Jackson’ being another one of your nicknames as you performed one of the artists dances for a challenge… whilst being dressed up like him. And of course having Daniel record the whole thing and posting it online, leading to the whole f1 world calling you that nickname.

➭ Never ending rivalry between you and Lando (basically you two just acting like kids all the time).

If you would like to be added to the taglist please fill out this form !

[formulas-bitch]

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc

the dark lord 2 3 4

Come back home x leclerc/sibling 2

Carlos Sainz

media reporter

For you, Always / CEO carlos 2

Lando Norris

the streamer and artist

Oscar Piastri

welcome to the family 2

Max Verstappen Mate Meant to be

Pierre Gasly

Forbidden Love

Daniel Riccardo

Family above all

Lance Stroll

unknown sister

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: take a bow [1.7k, fluff?]. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis:⠀never put michaela, max, and seb in a press room together. ✼. notes:⠀seb is and will always be michaela #1 defender. ✼. warnings:⠀none!

✼.⠀OCTOBER 24, 2020 — portimão, portugal

"Michaela, tell us about your strategy for tomorrow's race." A journalist called out, as the buzz of the crowded room grew expectant.

Michaela leaned back in her chair and took a sip of water before addressing the sea of faces. "Strategy?" She echoed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I plan to start from 17th, work my way through the pack, and then just teleport to the top step of the podium. What do you think of that, Max?"

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the side. "Sounds perfectly possible," He quipped, earning a round of laughter from the room. Sebastian, ever the accomplice to their comedic duo, nodded wistfully. "If only we had that technology."

The room lightened up a bit, the tension of the intense qualifying session dissipating. Another journalist, seemingly not in on the joke, fired off a more serious question. "Michaela, your performance at the Tuscan Grand Prix was historic, but since then, your team has struggled. How do you plan to overcome the recent setbacks?"

Michaela's smile remained, but her eyes narrowed in recognition of the journalist's voice. Anthony Georges, a motorsports reporter for the BBC, had never been shy to challenge Michaela's dodges. From her Formula 2 days, Georges had been the bane of her existence. The very reason she had walked out of a press conference during the first race of the 2018 season.

"Well, I've been taking inspiration from my latest shopping trip. You know, you might not find what you're looking for right away, but with persistence and a bit of luck, you can still come home with something special." She winked at the Brit, her words another clever dodge.

The room rippled with laughter again, but the journalist pressed on. "I meant technically speaking. What is Alfa Romeo doing to improve?" His lips pressed into a stern line, graying eyebrows furrowed in a smug, accusatory expression.

Michaela's expression softened as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Look, we're working tirelessly behind the scenes. It's not just about slapping on a new wing or tweaking the engine. We're in the middle of a season that's thrown more curveballs than you can imagine. But we're a team and together we're navigating these challenges."

The room fell quiet for a brief moment, Georges seemingly at a loss for a comeback for the moment. Sebastian, ever the opportunist, jumped in. "And let's not forget, she's still the only one here who's managed to avoid hitting a wall this weekend. That has to count for something, right?"

The tension broke again, the room erupting in sporadic chuckles. Max couldn't resist a laugh either, remembering his own unfortunate incident earlier in the weekend.

"Speaking of walls," Another journalist said. "What do you make of the criticism that your recent DNF in Sochi is a sign that you're not cut out for this level of racing?"

Michaela's smile never wavered. "Ah, the infamous 'female driver' stereotype," She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, if you ask me, I'd say it's more about the car and the track than my gender. But, hey, if you want to believe that I'm secretly trying to redecorate the circuits with my car parts, go ahead. That's not my problem."

The room was filled with a mix of shocked expressions and snickers. Sebastian leaned forward, a glint in his eye. "I must admit, I've hit a few walls in my time," He said with a self-deprecating grin. "It's part of the job description, isn't it?"

Michaela nodded solemnly, playing along. "Absolutely, Sebastian. It's in the fine print right under 'must be able to operate under extreme G-forces' and 'capable of consuming copious amounts of energy drinks.'" Her reference to energy drinks is emphasized by Max who lifts his own RedBull energy drink in a mocking toast.

A journalist, a newer face in the pressroom, from the back of the room, emboldened by Georges' initial challenge, decided to jump into the fray. "But isn't it true that your teammate Kimi Raikkonen seems to handle the car better?"

Michaela's eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked over at her press officer, Beata Gasparro, who motioned frantically for her to keep her calm. "Kimi's a legend," She said, "But let's not forget, he's also got more than a decade on me. I've got plenty of time to get the hang of it."

"I'd like to add that Mickey's actually doing relatively better than Kimi this season. She's outperformed him at all races this season except for what?" Sebastian spoke up in defense of the former Ferrari reserve driver.

He glanced towards Michaela and Max, knowing the two of them would know the answer to his question. The Alfa Romeo driver decided to remain quiet, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the questioning journalist.

Max jumped in her stead responding with a casual, "Spa and Sochi.", and a smile as if punctuating the point. Sebastian nodded at the answer, closing the question off with, "I'm sure Kimi won't mind me saying that."

"He doesn’t care much about anything these days," Michaela muttered under her breath. The cheeky remark had the room in stitches again. Kimi was notorious for his icy personality, so it was no secret that his preference for not speaking much was a running joke in the paddock.

The journalist's face reddened, but he maintained his composure. "What about the psychological aspect, then? Do you feel any extra pressure being the first woman to achieve such a feat?"

Michaela leaned forward, her gaze intense. "I'm a driver, not a pioneer on a mission to prove anything about my gender. The pressure I feel is the same as any of these guys feel—to win races and do the best I can for the team. And honestly, if I let every question about my gender throw me off, I'd never get out of bed in the morning. So, let's talk about racing, yeah?"

Her words hit the journalist like a cold splash of water, but as she sensed an opportunity, she added fuel to the fire. "You know, we've got a race to talk about tomorrow. Maybe we should focus on the actual cars going around in circles instead of my inability to pee standing up." The room erupted in laughter, even Georges couldn't help but crack a smile.

"But seriously," Michaela continued, her tone earnest now, "I race because I love it. Because I'm good at it. And because every time I get into the cockpit, I'm racing against the best in the world, regardless of their gender. Now, if you have any more questions about the actual racing, I'd be happy to answer them. Otherwise, I think we're all set here."

Sebastian's hum of approval only served to embolden Michaela in knowing she had properly shut down the years of gendered attacks on her and her abilities.

"Alright, alright," Georges jumped in, seemingly admitting defeat, raising his hands in mock surrender. "We'll stick to the racing, as the lady wishes." He leaned back in his chair, a glint of respect in his eyes. "But, let's talk about strategy for real this time. What's the game plan for tomorrow?"

Michaela leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips. "Strategy doesn't work if you explain it," She quipped before taking a deep breath and giving a more serious response. "We're going to play it smart, work the tires, and hope for some good old-fashioned racing luck. That's all I can say without giving away our secret sauce."

The press conference continued, with questions flying from all angles, but the mood had shifted. The journalists, though still probing, had been put in their place and were now receiving the kind of answers that didn't feed into their narratives.

Michaela's responses remained sharp, and she was practiced at pivoting the conversation back to the race. "Tomorrow's going to be a tough one," She said, her eyes scanning the room, "But that's what we live for, right?" She grinned at Max and Sebastian, who nodded in agreement.

As the conference drew to a close, Michaela thanked the journalists with a wink directed towards the BBC reporter. As she received a smile that formed a semblance of respect between the two of them, she left the room a bit lighter. With Beata on her tail, however, she could feel the scolding coming from the middle-aged Italian woman.

"Michaela, you can't just say things like that," Beata whispered in rushed Italian urgently as they navigated through the corridors of the Algarve International Circuit.

Michaela turned to her, her smile never leaving her face. "Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"

Beata sighed. "It's a fine line, Mickey. You don't want to be seen as disrespectful."

Michaela raised an eyebrow. "But I'm not. I'm just telling them to stick to the racing. I've earned that much, don't you think so?" The unspoken insinuation of all the hardship Michaela had been forced to navigate with the confrontational press during her junior career hung in the air.

With a tinge of acceptance, Beata sighed, "Why can I never win with you?"

Michaela just laughed as they approached the team's garage. "You know, I'm not trying to make enemies," She said, her voice growing softer. "But I've had enough of the bullshit. It's about time someone called them out." Her famously near-perfect Italian caught the ears of some of the mechanics who laughed in recognition, knowing how fed up the Australian had been in recent weeks.

"I know, I know," Beata sighed, her stern expression softening into one of understanding. "But you've got to be smart, Mickey. You can't let them get under your skin."

Michaela nodded, her eyes focused on the garage ahead. "I'm not letting them get under my skin. I'm just not going to let them define me anymore." She paused, looking back at her press officer. "You saw the crap I got when I first started. This is nothing."

Beata's expression softened. "You're right. You've come a long way. But we're at the highest level now, and the stakes are higher."

Michaela nodded, her eyes gleaming with determination. "I know. And that's exactly why I'm going to keep pushing back. I've earned my seat here, and I'm not going to let anyone question that anymore."

✼. taglist:⠀feel free to send in an ask/comment to join the taglist <3

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[turn3tifosi]

FROM THE ANGELS

ii. THE CHAOS OF THE SUMMER

Summer Break, 2022

Word must have travelled fast through the walls of the factory in Maranello, because Ausilia had gotten a call from Charles that night.

They had met first during karting, Charles several levels above her, but got acquainted with each other when Ausilia joined the FDA in 2020.

Ausilia was convinced that Charles sacrifice himself at the altar if it meant that Ferrari would be champions again. She also knew that she would be right next to him.

Ausilia loved the team too, but it seemed the feeling was unreciprocated, not in any way she could grasp.

“So what’s next for you?” Charles’s voice was laced with curiosity. Ausilia hadn’t planned to spill the news just yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Sharing it with one more person was hardly a risk.

“I signed a contract.” She said it with a casual shrug, as if she were discussing the weather. But beneath that veneer was the weight of her future, the career she’d poured her heart into.

“With another F1 team? Or are you moving to another series?” Charles’s questions were endless, but Ausilia indulged him. Ferrari was branching out into WEC, and he suggested, “You could always go into endurance.”

The mention of Ferrari made Ausilia bristle, a flicker of irritation she couldn’t quite place. His suggestion was practical, but it stung. It was a reminder that even as the Scuderia opened new doors, they had slammed shut on her. Marco and Mattia hadn’t even hinted at a reserve or development role.

“Endurance isn’t really my thing. Besides, the dream’s always been Formula One,” she said, her voice trailing off as if weighed down by the words. She cleared her throat, a reminder of the ache she tried to mask.

“Don’t you want to wait and see if Ferrari comes through with a contract? Is it really final?” Charles knew about her deep-rooted affection for the team; Maranello had been her home for the past two years.

He offered a sliver of hope, “Maybe ask Lucy to help you get a seat in endurance? There’s going to be seats for 2024, and ‘25 is even more open. Don’t leave Ferrari behind—maybe you’ll get your chance. It’s always been your dream.”

His optimism grated on her nerves now. She understood his perspective, but he didn’t see the whole picture. Even if every seat on the team was open, she knew she still wouldn’t get a contract.

Her voice turned icy as she replied, “I can’t afford to waste my career waiting for this team, Charles. Not every dream is worth dying for.”

The chill evaporated quickly as she added, “Listen, I’ve got to go. Bye.”

She ended the call, the weight of her words lingering like a shadow. What she’d said was true, but a part of her still yearned for that dream—the dream of driving for Ferrari, the dream that had ignited her passion and fueled her ambition.

A Few Days Later

The day had started like any other. Quiet, uneventful. But Ausilia knew what was coming, could feel the shift in the air. She was sitting in a small café in her neighborhood when her phone buzzed. Lucy. “They’re posting it in 15 minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. The countdown began, a hum of adrenaline beneath her skin. This wasn’t the dream, not exactly how she’d pictured launching her Formula One career, but a seat—any seat—was a foothold. And a seat in Formula One was still everything.

She sipped her coffee, eyes on the screen, the seconds ticking away like a heartbeat. Fifteen minutes, sharp. Right on time, the announcement lit up her phone. Haas posted the words that would tether her name to the 2023 grid: “We are pleased to announce that Formula 2’s current championship leader, Ausilia de Angelis, will be driving with Haas F1 in 2023.”

Somewhere in Carolina, Gene Haas' phone buzzes, slicing through the quiet. He picks up, hears the voice on the other end, tight with disbelief, suspicion. “You signed Ausilia for 2023?”

The question hangs there, heavy, like it’s trying to unravel the logic, make sense of the decision. Gene stays silent, lets them spin the thread a little longer. The voice sharpens. “Why would you give her the seat, Gene? She’s not an FDA driver anymore.”

There it is. Not an FDA driver. The words that were supposed to mean something. A mark of belonging, or lack of it, now. But Gene knows better. He leans back in his chair, partially annoyed, partially pleased, listening as the voice continues, as if trying to claw back some sense of order. “The plan was 2025, when Sainz leaves, de Angelis gets the seat at Ferrari. That’s what they told me.”

“Well, they obviously lied,” Gene cuts in, a little sharper than intended. But the truth is, the lie doesn’t matter now. Ferrari’s plan, their red-tinted dreams—they’re not his concern. Ausilia isn’t tethered to them anymore, and that’s what pleases him most. No strings attached, no waiting for her moment in red.

She’s his driver now. And she’s a good driver. It’s no secret. If she stays longer than they expected, if she builds something here, grows into a name that’s theirs, not Ferrari’s—that only works in his favor. No FDA label. No promises of a future that’s always dangling just out of reach. Just her, in his car, pushing the limits.

He smiles to himself, the voice still droning on in the background. But it’s clear now. They were never in control. Not of her, not of this.

The news of her F1 seat ignites chaos, like a match dropped into gasoline. Headlines spiral, opinions crash into each other, and the world of Formula One is set ablaze. A woman back on the grid. Thirty years. That’s how long it’s been since Desiree Wilson in '92, and now it’s Ausilia—taking that seat, that space, that history. She knows what this means. She’s not just racing for herself. She’s racing for every girl who ever looked at a track and wondered if she could belong there.

But even before her first lap, the obituaries are already being written. They’re carving her failure into stone, like it’s inevitable, like her victory in Formula 3, her dominance in Formula 2, were all just footnotes leading to this “mistake.” The media says she should’ve gone elsewhere, waited for something safer, something more respectable. They think she’s already burned out before she’s even had the chance to start.

And here’s the hypocrisy: they’ll cheer for her when she wins everything leading up to this, but now, at the edge of the real dream, they’re holding her back. As if she hasn’t earned it. As if the seat in Formula One isn’t hers, and hers alone. But Ausilia knows better. She’s going to show them, all of them, that she—and every other girl who’s ever been told no—belongs exactly where she wants to be.

Gene called Ausilia later that day, his voice flat, cutting through the static. "So you and your manager lied about the FDA plan."

Ausilia didn’t flinch, didn’t miss a beat. “When we signed the contract, I was still an FDA driver,” she replied, calm but sharp. "I was only dropped at the start of the summer break."

But Gene wasn’t in the mood for details. He was serious, his voice like gravel, dragging across the line. “You’re a great driver, that’s why I’m letting you keep the seat,” he said, and for a moment, there was something heavier, something weightier in the silence that followed.

“Prove me right,” he added, his words slower now, deliberate. “And prove all those money-grabbing journalists wrong, de Angelis.”

It wasn’t a pep talk. It was a challenge, a dare.

[planetmimi]

decode - cl16

context: charles leclerc x black!fem!oc, some smau (cause i love those doooown)

faceclaim: @balialdn on insta

cw: none

summary: after a five-month social media break, artist Ahvi finally comes back to social media. her comeback is in the midst of dating rumors swirling around her and two of her...friends.

Italic = flashback

feedback is appreciated, this is my first one so please be nice

ahvi

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 8.473.875 others

ahvi: my french is getting better, might use it in this project…maybe? (be calm yall)

f1lover: CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! welcome back queen (im trying to be calm, i think i might actually explode from happiness)!!!

username74: oh look the whore is back

username54: awww we all hoped you would never come back

username12: no fr! when her contract ran out i thought that we were finally done with her

username276: YOU DIDNT SAY FOR A WHOLE YEAR MAAM

lewishamilton: new music, maybe?

ahvi: maybe… if you get me paddock passes

lewishamilton: ask your boyfriend...maybe

ahvi: blocked, reported and banned from listening to my music cause OMG?! i just got back too?! like please ntm on me

charles_leclerc: teaching you french has been quite the challenge, i would like some type of credit please

ahvi: if you podium i'll think about it

charles_leclerc: and if i get P1 i want a song written for me and to be in the music video

ahvi: *gasps in étonnement* thats asking for a lot, P1 twice this season and you've got yourself a deal

username67: you should have never come back nobody wants to hear your shitty music

stanningahvi: the fact that it’s been damn near two years without any new music… and a year since we've last seen you👁️👄👁️

lew_max.444: no cause if this is a trick…imma do something heinous

ahvi: is this a threat ? cause it’s kinda feeling like a threat

ahvi4f1: i mean…we can make it one if you want us to 🤷🏾‍♀️

zendaya: as your bestfriend i have to let you know, if you don’t drop this, i will do so for you (i will leak it)❤️

ahvi: sounds like less work for me tbh 🤷🏽‍♀️

zendaya: alright yall secret project dropping next month at 4 pm PST

ahvi: ouuu d*sney dupe 🤭

tomholland2013: please, don’t check your messages mate

zendaya: don’t listen to him. go check your messages babe. go ahead.

ahvi: #CANCELZENDAYA

liked by: zendaya, tomholland2013 and 45.856 others

ahvi

liked by: lewishamilton, sza and 5.946.087 others

ahvi: why didn't y'all tell me Australia is so hot ?? oh wait.. thats just me sorry y'all

landonorris : FIRST !

ahvi: 15th actually

landonorris : ......... you think you're so funny huh

ahvisdrafts: i mean she is actually a full time stand up comedian, part time singer-songwriter.

ahvi: you get it

username2: so, you and whats his face broke up and now you're going between F1 drivers?

f1grids: wow, never expected an A lister to become a grid groupie

girly2pop: are you ready to write a song for that man?

ahvi: stooop. shhhhhh. if no one mentions it EVER AGAIN i won’t have to do it

normani: tea is she's actually written like six of em already

georgerussell63: why is it always me?!

username29: girl we've heard the rumors about you getting around miss paddock princess

username : never would i have expected ahvi to become as close as she is with the f1 grid…like i didn't even know she knew what f1 was

username9: shes sleeping her way through it lol

username: girl you need to back up off charles

username6: no for real...going to australia three weeks before race week? way to scream desperate

Over the last year Ahvi has become somewhat of a hermit, between rumors swirling of a potential relationship between her and Charles, and her break up with her ex-friend becoming known to the public. All of this buzz around her name has generated a lot of hate, whether it be from her ex-friend's fans, Charles fans or her own haters. For the last year Ahvi has just been the internet's punching bag, despite not being active on the internet.

In the year she took away from social media a lot happened, a lot changed. Before she started her break, she was just off a stadium world tour, about to drop her first proper album. She felt on top of the world, until one day, with only three months left in her tour. Just before her second day at Wembly Stadium, when she fainted during soundcheck and was sent to the hospital.

- a year ago -

Her heartbeats so loud she almost can't hear what the nurse in front of her is saying. The nurse smiles lightly "I know this is probably very shocking, so I will give you some time, but your options are a bit limited with how far along you are." Ahvi nods, trying to process the words that were said to her, "I just- I'm sorry, I know I've made you say it to me a hundred times over but just...one more time and can I see the results."

"Don't worry, this is a common response in this situation," the nurse says as she hands over the blood test results. Ahvi looks at the blood test results, there it is, in black and white, "your HCG levels are higher than normal," the nurse points to her HCG results. Aleyah's eyes follow the nurse's finger, "Your results put you at being 17 weeks pregnant." There's that word again, pregnant, the one part of this she can't wrap her head around. As the nurse was talking to her an ultrasound tech brought in an ultrasound machine.

Ahvi tries her best to truly listen and absorb what the nurses are telling her as she lifts her shirt up to start the ultrasound. When the ultrasound tech brings the wand to where the gel was put a fast heartbeat fills the room and tears swell in the young singers eyes.

The 22-year-old looks at the ultrasound screen, a small incredulous whisper tumbles from her lips, "what the fuck."

[lorarri]

★ . . . 🇯🇵 𝐁𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 , 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

summary , winter break in full swing and lewis takes a trip to the land of the rising sun and leaves with the heart of there darling princess

pairing , lewis hamilton x fem! royalty! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | f1 grid masterlist

lewishamilton

liked by yourinstagram charles_leclerc 87,380,489 others

lewishamilton cold in japan but they keep me warm 💞

view comments

user ummm sir who is this 'they' you are speaking of

user calm down guys he's talking about me

user THEY???? THEYYYY???

user okay but the caption

user hellp police my husband has been stolen from me

user sir is this a soft launch orrrrr

user the fact that lewis is already trending on twitter

user twitter detectives do you thing

user okay so while you guys are freaking about lewis's possible soft launch has everybody just failed to notice how the crowned princess of japan is in his likes and also FOLLOWS him

view more comments

yourinstagram . 18hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton charles_leclerc 88,279,379 others

lewishamilton replied to your story!

hope you enjoyed the race

I did it was so much fun

congrats on the p1 btw

and good luck on the title charge

if anyone can beat redbull it's you

thank you so much princess

I'll make sure to win this championship for you

but till then how about we get dinner together?

I thought you would never ask

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc landonorris 198,379,450 others

lewishamilton this one was for my princess

comments have been disabled

yourinstagram . 10min ago

seen by maxverstappen1 landonorris 76,379,254 others

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ request for japan where reader is a princess from the royal family? faceclaim maybe chisa from xg

[sebscore]

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS | CHARLES VER.

pairing: charles leclerc x driver!reader

author’s note: finally another one with the one and only lord perceval 💙 hope everyone enjoys this x

headcanons masterlist

• • • • • • •

:: Y/N and Charles were Formula 2 teammates at Prema Racing, and that’s where they became great friends.

:: The golden duo of Prema <3

:: The content on YouTube was so good and are some of the channel’s most watched videos.

:: Charles was the F2 champion and Y/N was the runner-up of the championship.

:: They won 13 out of 22 races combined.

:: Y/N lives in Monaco and gets her hair done in Charles’ mother hair salon.

:: They have a lot of respect for each other and are convinced they will be racing against each other for a long time.

:: Charles is always bitching about how much she gossips, but always listens to whatever she has to say.

:: They get compared a lot by the media since they have very similar careers.

:: The two don’t let it get to them and always speak very highly of each other.

:: Y/N, Charles and Max are considered the Big 3 of the new generation of F1, having shared many podiums together.

:: Y/N = the honorary Lestappen third wheel.

:: Their 2020 quarantine Twitch streams were golden!

:: Y/N being a tease and Charles being a bimbo.

:: She had a conversation with Arthur over Twitch, thinking it was Charles the entire time.

:: The banana costume moment was her screensaver for a while.

:: Charles liked an edit of hers when his TikTok likes were still public.

:: Shippers went crazy with that one.

:: Overall, they’re great friends and hope to be competing against each other for many more years :)

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1